As part of the Activation of Archive 2021, I explored my own food archives alongside recipes shared online by Hong Kong migrants newly arrived in the UK, gathering them as a way to remember - and hold on to - the food I missed.
When I walked into the room, most of the dishes were already on the table. I set my bag down.
“Do you want soup?”
“Yes, please.”
“Yes, please.”
I caught my niece’s eye—we shared a quiet, knowing smile. From the kitchen, my parents’ voices rose and fell. She stared at the floor; we waited together in silence.
“I told you to put it in first! The fish won’t be ready for another ten minutes!” My mother sighed, sharp with frustration, as if she might gut the fish all over again. “Just get out of here.”
My father grunted, muttering under his breath—the kind of low, tight voice that says everything is still on edge, unchanged since I was last home two years ago.
I thought about the conversation I would have in the coming days, picked up a chicken drumstick, and began to chew.
