Natalie Tan's Book of Luck and Fortune(69)

Iceberg lettuce



Sauce:

Mustard

Hoisin sauce

Hot sauce


Chop the carrot into tiny cubes. In a heated wok, add the ground pork, mushroom soy sauce, and white wine. When the meat has been cooked, add the green peas, mushrooms, and carrots and stir for a minute. Sprinkle some salt and pepper to taste.

Pull the iceberg lettuce apart, rinse, and let dry. These will act as the cradle to hold the filling.

Mix equal parts mustard, hoisin, and hot sauce into a small bowl. Stir the yellow, brown, and red until they turn into a rich brown.

Serve the iceberg lettuce, filling, and the sauce.



Note:

This dish is a marriage of different textures: the crispiness of the lettuce, tenderness of the pork filling, and silkiness of the sauce.

This dish is to encourage temperance. Serve it to those who need restraint added to their impulses—just as the lettuce holds the filling together and keeps it from falling out.

I hovered over the sink and pulled the washed iceberg lettuce head apart. The crisp leaves squeaked under my fingers. A firm but delicate touch was required to retain the integrity of the leaf—the perfect receptacle for the minced pork filling.

A snowfall of white pepper floated down from my fingertips into the hot wok where the minced pork, shredded carrots, and sliced Chinese mushrooms sizzled. Puffs of steam bloomed upward, prompted by the turn of the wooden spatula. More spices, more steam, more flavor. I prepared my own version of hoisin sauce to include with the dish.

It was three in the afternoon and time to call in my final visitor.

I dialed the number Celia left for me. “Mr. Shen?” I asked as the call went through. “It’s Natalie.”

“Oh, hello there. I saw the fire trucks. I wanted to come by, but Celia said you needed space. I didn’t want to intrude. It must have been traumatic. Are you all right?” The concern in his voice touched me.

“Yes, I am,” I replied. “Can you please come by the apartment now? I have something for you.”

“Of course. I just finished with an appointment. I’ll be right over.”

Older Shen appeared in under five minutes at my doorstep with an unopened bag of White Rabbit candies as a gift. “These are for you,” he said. “I hope they cheer you up.”

“Thank you,” I murmured, accepting the gift. Though I was in my late twenties, my joy at seeing these candies was undiminished.

I helped him up the stairs because of his crutches. His gaze fell upon the potted orchids on the windowsill, then to the stacks of magazines. Older Shen picked up the current National Geographic issue and smiled. “Did you know Miranda didn’t even know these existed until I gave her a copy years ago? I was so pleased when it became her favorite.”

“Celia told me that you’d all helped Ma-ma when I left. Thank you,” I said.

He set the magazine down and made his way to the kitchen table. “Miranda was one of us. We try to take care of our own.” Older Shen took his seat and marveled at the meal I’d prepared for him. “This looks lovely, thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I hope you like it.”

A shy smile emerged from his face, one I recognized from before his transformation; as much as I liked the current version of Fai Shen, I missed some aspects of the previous one. My prescription for this dish was one I thought was perfect for him.

Cradling the curled lettuce leaf in one hand, Older Shen spooned the minced pork filling into it with the other and drizzled the hoisin sauce on top. The touch of added sweetness completed the savory profile of the dish. The contrasting textures might be the reason I had chosen this. The crunch of the lettuce combined with the juicy, tender filling created harmony for the palate.

Older Shen took his first bite.

A discordant symphony rose from each nibble; the kind one would expect on the first day of band practice. If Shen heard the cacophony, he made no indication. Tiny balls of light appeared over his head, all mimicking the audible chaos by pinging this way and that. With every chew, the noise became more organized as if each hapless instrument were being replaced by a skilled performer. The lights followed, falling into an ethereal formation—that of an unbroken circle.

Temperance.

And then I felt it, the adrenaline, the joy.

I refilled his cup of tea and took the seat across from him. “Have you sold the store yet?”

“No, but I have offers already. I haven’t made the final decision,” he replied. “I’m sorry, Natalie, I know you wanted me to stay and run the bookstore, but I don’t have the heart to do it anymore. I can’t keep doing this when I know someone else can do a much better job.”

“What do you want to do after you sell?”

“I don’t know yet. I thought about getting an apartment nearby, somewhere close enough to visit, but far enough so that I get a change of scenery. Maybe travel? It was a luxury I denied myself for years.”

Though I was saddened by his departure, the mention of visits comforted me. When he did leave, I would cook him a worthy feast as a send-off. “Our street won’t be the same without you and the store. We’ll miss you,” I said.

Older Shen sipped his tea. “I’ll make sure whoever takes my place will bring life back into the neighborhood.”

“Maybe it should be a young family?” I suggested. “New blood. It’d be nice to see children again around here.”