Natalie Tan's Book of Luck and Fortune

by Roselle Lim

  A fiery glow surrounded Celia, Bunsen blue at the core and orange at the edges. I squinted at the light. I fumbled for the right words, but all that escaped was an apology. “I’m sorry, Celia. I wasn’t using you. Our friendship matters to me. It’s the truth, but it doesn’t make it better.”

  “I never asked for this. All I gave you was kindness, and this was how you repaid me.” She paused to sniffle. “You should have told me the truth. I deserved that much.”

  Her shoulders drooped like the limp bunches of coriander on the last day at the market. “Get out,” she whispered.

  * * *

  The cat roused me the next morning by licking my cheek, the roughness of her tongue jarring me awake even though I had no intention of getting up. As the wrecker of lives, I didn’t want to face the damage I had wrought.

  I moved to the living room, where my grandmother’s book rested on the coffee table. Pulling it toward me, my fingers sought the place where three pages had been ripped out of the book. What important information was in these missing pages? Could it contain the solution I was looking for?

  I’d found nothing else in Laolao’s book, so I closed it.

  I wished Ma-ma were here. She might know the answer. If only there were a connection to heaven, I would wait under the stars for a signal and the opportunity to communicate with my mother once more. Perhaps she could tell me how to fix the mess I’d made of the neighbors’ lives:

  The Chius were headed for divorce.

  Older Shen had a broken leg and was selling the business he loved so it could be turned into an overpriced condo.

  Celia hated me and was worse off financially than before.

  Fulfilling the prophecy seemed impossible. Save the neighborhood? I’d only ensured its destruction.

  “Can I even fix this?” I asked the cat. “I’ve failed them all and myself.”

  Meimei butted my side while emitting a series of loud meows.

  “There isn’t a solution in the recipe book. We checked, remember? There is no fix-all recipe. Maybe I should choose a different approach? There has to be something that will combat what I’ve cooked.”

  Meimei jumped off my lap and hopped onto the coffee table. She batted Laolao’s book with her paw.

  “No, I already looked there,” I told her.

  She meowed back, continuing to tap the thick book.

  “I’ve gone through it many times. Laolao doesn’t have any solutions in there.”

  Meimei sat up. Her ice blue eyes focused on me, and her paw tapped the cover again. I couldn’t help but laugh. This tiny little creature was adamant.

  “Fine.” I picked up the book and opened it. She batted the pages, her paws turning them back and forth until she found one she decided to sit on.

  “You do know this is an important book. It’s also very old, so we have to be careful.” I shooed her off the pages.

  “Are you telling me I should cook to get out of this?”

  The cat tilted her head.

  “Cooking got me into this, so cooking should get me out of it?”

  I could see the logic. “But what would be different this time? Maybe it was my fault. I was so busy looking for cures that I didn’t look for any warnings.”

  Perhaps I had been searching for the wrong information. I should be looking for guidance on how to use the recipes, not what remedies they provided.

  Startling the cat, I began skimming ahead, flipping through the pages in rapid succession, searching for instructions. I came across the word harmony and three recipes referring to one another. According to Laolao, these had to be cooked in unison. This was it!

  I yanked a notepad from the counter and jotted down the required ingredients. I could prepare a feast for the neighbors that would bring about harmony to eradicate the discord I’d sown. It would only make sense that the way to fix all this would be to use this triplet of recipes the way my grandmother advised. Simple. I was so busy trying to find a way to reverse what I’d wrought that I hadn’t considered a different approach. Maybe this could work! All I could do was try. Sharing a meal always brought strangers and family together.

  I could fix this mess.

  I picked up the cat and twirled her around the room. I kissed her little face as I danced. She stoically accepted my joy at finding the solution. I performed one more shimmy before getting down to work.

  In three days, I would hold a dinner and invite all of them. They wouldn’t be able to turn down the invitation because the dinner would be held in my mother’s memory.

  I had no guilt for invoking my mother’s name. Nothing else would coax my fractured neighbors to come together. The three new recipes would counter the three dishes that had failed, I told myself. They had to work.

  * * *

  By the afternoon of the dinner, all of my neighbors had confirmed their attendance—even Celia, to my surprise. I wanted to think that if she could talk, Meimei would praise my ingenuity and agree that my plan would work.

  Laolao’s recipe book lay on the counter among garlands of fresh vegetables and meats wrapped in butcher paper. Stainless-steel pots gleamed from a recent scrubbing while my grandmother’s wok, with its darkened patina, sat on the stove’s burner. Wagner’s “Ride of the Valkyries” played on the Victrola.

  It was time to cook.

  Spring Rolls

  Carrots

  Green beans

  Garlic

  Shrimp

  Pork tenderloin

  Fish sauce

  Salt

  Pepper

  Bean sprouts

  Green leaf lettuce

  Pre-made spring roll wrappers

  Coriander

  Hot sauce

  Crushed peanuts

  Sauce:

  Apple cider vinegar

  Sugar

  Soy sauce

  Water

  Chili flakes

  Garlic

  Cornstarch

  Julienne the carrots and green beans. Mince the garlic. Butterfly the shrimp, and slice the pork tenderloin into tiny strips.

  Heat the wok and stir-fry the pork and shrimp with a sprinkle of fish sauce and garlic. Set aside.

  Stir-fry the carrots and green beans with a dash of salt and pepper for four to five minutes to ensure they retain their crunch. Lastly, stir-fry the bean sprouts for two minutes.

  Toss the filling together, mixing the vegetables with the meat.

  For the sauce, mix the apple cider vinegar, sugar, and soy sauce in a bowl. The ratios depend on your taste as well as the portion of the filling. Boil the water and add the ingredients, all the while stirring to dissolve the sugar. Once the mixture is boiling, add the chili flakes and the rest of the minced garlic along with the cornstarch to thicken the sauce. Always add more garlic than you need because there can never be too much of it. Keep stirring to avoid clumps from forming, and once it has thickened and is the proper viscosity, it is ready.

  Place a lettuce leaf on the wrapper. Stuff the leafy canoe with the filling and top with a generous helping of the sauce. Add coriander leaves, hot sauce, and the crushed peanuts as a garnish before wrapping everything up.

  Note:

  Time is the key to these spring rolls.

  This is a meal designed to entice conversation and build connections, for it involves active participation: kinship. Communication is important to bridge any chasms or mend any feuds. This is one of the three dishes that promote harmony.

  Each person makes their own spring rolls, and in the process, ingredients are passed around and shared. As much time is spent in preparation of this dish, more time is taken in its consumption.

  It is perfect welcome fare for newcomers.

  The spring rolls needed the most preparation time, so I tackled them first. My sharp knife minc
ed the onions and garlic, and julienned the carrots and green beans, transforming them into colorful edible confetti. I set aside the garlic and deposited the rest into a hot wok. The vegetables sizzled on impact, dancing in the heat as I stirred, mixing greens, oranges, yellows in a culinary palette. The vegetables would add crunch when added to the seasoned, minced pork.

  Watercress Soup

  Leftover soup stock, or new stock made from water and chicken neck bones

  Ginger

  Fresh watercress

  Sesame oil

  Green onions

  Salt

  Boil water with the chicken neck bones and two slices of ginger. As the water bubbles, scoop out the impurities rising to the surface in the form of floating clouds. If you have leftover soup stock, skip this step.

  When the stock has been purified, drop the bundles of fresh watercress into the boiling pot along with a few drops of sesame oil. Boil until the watercress rises to the surface.

  Serve in bowls garnished with minced green onions. Add salt according to taste.

  The soup evokes the feeling of wading into a river: the warmth of a summer’s day, the softness of moss on polished stones.

  Note:

  The balance achieved in this soup brings a lightness of being. The soup brings clarity to clouded minds.

  Serve this to the indecisive. It will bring them comfort when their decisions become clearer.

  This is the second of three dishes that promote harmony.

  At my side, the boiling water bubbled. The base of the watercress soup was a broth made of chicken neck bones. I unwrapped the chicken bones from the brown paper and they tumbled into the pot along with a few slices of ginger. The subtlety of the broth and its main ingredient, watercress, promoted healing.

  Clear Soda Shrimp

  Ginger

  Salt

  Pepper

  Clear soda

  Black tiger shrimp

  Sesame oil

  Cilantro

  Water

  Sauce:

  Soy sauce

  Vinegar

  Garlic

  Chilies

  Cut two slices of ginger. Pound them flat and toss them into the pot with the salt, pepper, and clear soda. When the stock is boiling, add the shrimp. Keep stirring. Watch for the color to change from glossy, striped gray to blush pink, and then you know it is cooked and ready. The shells must appear glossy and smooth. If the shrimp shells become wrinkled and inseparable from the meat inside, they are overcooked and will be rubbery in texture. Undressing a shrimp should be an easy task if it is cooked perfectly.

  Pour the pot’s contents into a strainer, separating the shrimp from the stock. Add a sprinkle of sesame oil to the shrimp and sprigs of cilantro for plating.

  Serve with a sauce made from soy sauce, vinegar, smashed garlic cloves, and chilies.

  Note:

  The first time I drank clear soda, I marveled at its properties. It was like drinking liquid sugar, and I knew it would pair well with the natural sweetness of shrimp.

  Serve this to those needing respite and peace. There are those who desperately need a sense of calm because they are facing difficulty in their lives. The sweetness of the dish will temper and soothe the soul.

  This dish is meant for those seeking serenity. This is the third dish that promotes harmony.

  The gray shells of the shrimp gleamed like smooth pebbles in a stream. Ten minutes before the guests arrived, I would submerge them into a hot bath of clear soda accented with slices of ginger. I watched and waited, checking for when the shells turned coral. The soda enhanced the natural sweetness of the shrimp. This dish would be the last to be cooked because of its short cooking time.

  I also prepared a batch of scented jasmine rice. Every Chinese meal was accompanied by the requisite rice or noodle staple. Since I’d given such care in the three special dishes, plain white rice would serve as a subtle accent.

  I smiled at the photograph of my grandmother. “Thank you, Laolao, for your recipes and your wisdom. I hope this works and I make you proud.”

  The dinner would soon be ready and the guests were due to arrive.

  Chapter Eighteen

  I knew my neighbors would come to the dinner at the restaurant because etiquette and duty guaranteed their attendance, but I was concerned about the possibility of another disaster happening. Ever since I had decided to hold the dinner, I had refused to entertain any negative thoughts, but I found them encroaching now. Ma-ma had once said, “No matter how much you try to direct fate, eventually, she finds a way to do what she wants.” Tonight, I hoped fate would be on my side.

  Older Shen was the first guest to arrive.

  I opened the door. “Welcome.”

  Dressed in a powder blue velour tuxedo and splashed in expensive aftershave, he hobbled inside on his crutches. He’d brought a bouquet of drooping pink chrysanthemums. “These are for you. Congratulations! The food smells wonderful.”

  I accepted the flowers, murmured my thanks, and helped him to his seat. The scarlet carnation on his lapel clashed with his outfit. My invitation hadn’t indicated a dress code, but I appreciated that he was taking the event so seriously.

  “That is an interesting outfit, Mr. Shen.”

  “Thank you.” He winced and stared at his leg.

  “Are you all right?”

  “The leg is worse than before. Recovery isn’t going as well as I hoped, I’m afraid.”

  “I’m so sorry, Mr. Shen.”

  “It’s all right. The accident was my fault. I should have been more careful.”

  A twinge of guilt hit me.

  Miss Yu made her appearance next. She was resplendent in a pastel palette of roses and lavender. A rose sheath dress with embroidered matching flowers was completed with a crocheted lavender shawl. The familiar perfume of peonies lingered in the air as she drew me in for an embrace.

  “Oh, dear one, it’s good to see you.” She placed a kiss on my cheek. “Your mother would be proud of your efforts.”

  I pulled her aside into the kitchen. I needed to ask her about her prophecy, the recipes backfiring, the missing pages. “I was trying to reach you. Something’s gone wrong with the prophecy.”

  “I’m so sorry. I’ve been away tending to my aunt. She isn’t doing well. What has gone wrong?”

  I told her everything. She nodded, listening silently; all the while her smooth brow creased further.

  “What do you think about the missing pages?” I asked.

  “I agree with you that the damage in the book might have something to do with this. I’m sorry but Miranda didn’t give me any loose pages, only the scarf and the book. So these three dishes that you cooked for tonight, are they the ones you think might return order?”

  “Yes, I’m hoping this fixes everything,” I replied. “Or at least gets us to where we were before I made things worse. I tried to find recipes that would create and restore harmony.”

  Miss Yu reached out to pat my cheek. “You have a kind heart like your mother and your grandmother before her. I also hope this works.” She sniffed the air. “Judging by the aroma, you cook as well as your laolao. You have the same gift. The restaurant will surely be a success when it opens.”

  I had so many doubts that it made me feel guilty to hope. “Thank you, Miss Yu,” I murmured. I wanted to continue the conversation, but with more guests filing in, I had to return to my duties. Perhaps at the end of the night, I might have another chance to privately speak with her and figure out my next move.

  Celia hovered near the doorway. Despite her worried expression, she was radiant in a fuchsia frock with a hydrangea print. Lifting her hand in a half-hearted wave, she took a seat at the table without saying hello. Of everyone that I’d invited, she was the only one whose RSVP I wasn’t sure of. I yearned to ap
ologize again, but it wouldn’t diminish her pain. Even now, Celia busied herself with her phone to avoid any eye contact.

  The Chius entered together, but they might as well have come individually: it was clear from their stiff body language and distance from each other that they were still fighting. Mrs. Chiu wore a flattering floral-print wrap dress under a crocheted cardigan, and Mr. Chiu was in a light charcoal sweater and khakis.

  Mrs. Chiu embraced me. “How are you doing? Do you need anything?”

  “No, I don’t need anything. Thank you for asking,” I replied. “I’m really glad you could come.”

  “It’s not a problem, dear. We all loved your mother.” Mrs. Chiu’s gaze turned toward her husband and she frowned. Mr. Chiu was already seated at the table talking to Older Shen. The two men were discussing the real estate market—a topic that now filled me with even greater trepidation.

  I squeezed her arm while guiding her to the table. “Please have a seat.”

  Her smile vanished when her attention returned to her husband. Mrs. Chiu’s glare could freeze the Pacific Ocean. She took a seat in between Miss Yu and Celia.

  The last to arrive was Younger Shen, wearing a subdued shade of navy blue. “Hello, little one!” he boomed. “Thank you for the invitation. I hope I’m not late.”

  “Not at all.” I gestured toward the table.

  Celia never glanced up from her phone. Her knuckles glowed white, clutching the device tightly. She didn’t want to be here, but I needed everyone to be present for this dinner.

  They had to eat the three dishes and everything would be fixed; even Miss Yu agreed with my logic, which gave me hope.

  When the last guest sat down, I took my place at the head of the table. The last time we had gathered together was for Ma-ma’s funeral two weeks ago. Now, with the women on one side of the table and the men on the other, their eyes were on me.