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When he signs up for the classes, it’s not that Lu Xiang Qian isn’t confident about his skills in the kitchen, after all, he is the creator of a killer Spanish beef stew (the secret ingredient is crayfish). Rather, he’s a bit sad when he examines his relationship with his son, Lu Xia. The boy seems to have nothing but tennis on the brain, and his father isn’t sure how to connect with him anymore. He sighs as he clicks the “Confirm” button on the online form. The only other thing he can think of is food. It’s a human necessity, and Lu Xia has never really been shy about what he thinks of his dad’s home cooking.
Much like the time he had to get a suit, Lu Xia isn’t told the purpose of their excursion until they arrive at the community centre kitchen.
“You signed us up for what ?” he looks at his father’s sheepish smile, his face blank. “I refuse.” Lu Xia picks up his tennis bag and prepares to leave.
“Wait, wait, wait, wait!!!” Xiang Qian does his best to stall his son, a bit of panic creeping into his voice. “As your parent I need to make sure you have some basic life skills.”
“I know how to order food.”
Lu Xia is about to leave the room when a burly instructor steps in and shuts the door behind him.
“Now that everyone is here, let’s begin.”
And this is how it starts. For the next 4 weeks, father and son will be embarking on an 8 class cooking extravaganza.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
“Just follow the recipe, Mr. Lu.” The instructor’s voice is curt as he points to the laminated page at the workstation, arching an eyebrow when it looks like Xiang Qian is about to dump an entire container of star anise into the pot.
“Oh! Right! Yes…oh, these old eyes aren’t reading things like they used to.” Xiang Qian laughs it off before he calls Lu Xia over from where his son is chopping onions.
“You like anise, right? We should put a little more…” but he’s cut off when Lu Xia thrusts a measuring spoon at him.
“Instructor said to follow the recipe.”
“Oh...yes...right…” Xiang Qian absently takes the spoon while glancing over at the onions his son has been cutting. It’s with no small measure of fatherly pride that he notices the tidy pile of evenly chopped onion slices.
“I’ll finish up the seasoning then.” Xiang Qian smiles as he reaches for what he thinks is the salt. Lu Xia's hand is quick to close the lid up.
"Instructor said to follow the recipe."
Li Xia points to the label on the container that clearly says " white sugar".
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
If Lu Xia is honest with himself, the cooking classes turn out to be a good time. He gets a kick out of watching the instructor chastise his father whenever "Mr. Lu" thinks he ought to improve on the recipe. Lu Xia also gains an appreciation for the act of preparing food. It's not easy, it takes time, but it's rewarding in the end to see the finished product, and even better when someone you care about enjoys it. Lu Xia makes a mental note not to criticise his dad's home cooking too harshly in the future. Maybe he will use the instructor's patented phrase of "Follow the recipe, Mr. Lu" instead. At the very least, they will both get a laugh out of it.
While he's still a bit too young to understand the sacrifices and trials being a parent entails, Lu Xia thinks he's learned a little about some of the wordless ways parents tell their children they care. He understands now that when his father foisted already ripped chunks of watermelon on him, he was offering the sweetest and juiciest part.
Lu Xia will never admit it out loud, but he likes that they have this shared memory to look back on, and he hopes they get to do something like it again.
EPILOGUE
The next time he sees He Xinglong, Lu Xia feels a renewed respect for his zhuezhang. He is picking up some take out, quietly observing Xinglong and his father bustle about the kitchen as he waits for his order.
It reminds him of the banter he shared with his own father during the cooking classes. Obviously the He family are old pros when it comes to working smoothly in the kitchen, and Lu Xia knows he will likely never reach that level, but he feels like he can relate.
Xinglong hands Lu Xia a bag, an ever-present warm smile on his face.
"Enjoy! We threw in some extra dumplings. I know your dad likes them."
Lu Xia nods his thanks as he takes the bag and heads home. He didn't used to think much about these little extras, but now he understands this is one way Xinglong shows his friends he cares. Lu Xia isn't quite sure about his own way of expressing care yet, but he's starting to learn some vocabulary. He decides to save the plumpest dumplings for his dad.
FIN