The Reinvention of Mother
Hetty Lui McKinnon’s new cookbook, Tenderheart, is a treasured collection of memories and recipes from a life of unbreakable family bonds and delicious, nourishing food. In this extract, Hetty shares her take on a favourite quick meal from her mother.
During my first year or two of university, I remember a lot of weekday lunches at home, just my mother and I. These were the early years after my father passed and, with my light study load, which included many night classes, I was able to spend most of my days at home, keeping my mum company. I used to wonder whether I would have been such a homebody if my father hadn’t died, whether I felt some sort of duty to stay with my mum, to watch over her, to let her watch over me. But I now realise that there was no sacrifice on my part. I gained; time is such a luxury.
After my father passed away, my mother went through a period of huge change. Her trajectory in life perhaps did not anticipate such upheaval. As a girl born in China towards the end of World War II, her path was typical for girls of her generation – with minimal schooling, her teenage years were dedicated to finding a way out of pre-cultural revolution China, to get to the West, get married, have children, and to make a new home in a foreign land. But behind her facade as a quietly spoken Chinese woman, there was a fire, a resilience and a dogged determination that never showed, until she lost her husband prematurely. My mother worked hard not to show her devastation after my dad passed. But in the quiet moments, I saw it. What I also witnessed was a woman who lifted herself every day for her children. Up until that point, her opportunities had been limited – she never had the chance to work, didn’t speak English, didn’t drive, had never gone to a bank on her own, had never taken herself to buy groceries. In her forties, she found herself a widow, and so she had to learn to live again. An enforced reinvention. Life forces our hand sometimes. The woman that my mother became, that she still is today, is the pillar to which I hold myself to, that I hold my children to. Simply, she is strength.
Those quiet days my mother and I spent at home after my father died are so vivid to me. Our mornings were spent on opposite ends of our sprawling L-shaped sofa – she would be reading a Chinese newspaper, while I devoured the collected stories of Jane Austen. We were together, but in solitude. We didn’t talk much, maybe she would mutter a headline, or would tell me about the latest domestic tragedy in Hong Kong, or the sudden demise of a Chinese celebrity who I’d never heard of. But I was really lost in my own world, hanging on to the fortunes of the impoverished Dashwood sisters, Elinor and Marianne. Come midday, she would rise and wander into the kitchen to make lunch. Often it was macaroni soup, or ma ma mian (instant noodles), but a lot of the time it was mei fun tong (rice vermicelli soup). It was a quick meal, a stock made of chicken bouillon cubes and some greens thrown in. A simple lunch, to satiate our hunger after a morning awash with stories.
Baby bok choy and rice vermicelli soup
This is a clean broth with hints of anise, inspired by the quick noodle soups my mother made for lunch during my university days. Mei fun, or rice vermicelli, is quick to cook, with signature thin strands that allow a satisfying mouthful. I love the simplicity of noodles with baby bok choy, it feels cleansing and restorative. If you’re looking for a hint of protein, add some cubes of firm tofu.
Ingredients | Serves 4
1 tbsp roasted sesame oil
2.5 cm piece of ginger, peeled
and grated
1 garlic clove, grated
2 star anise
1.25 litres vegetable stock
2 tsp soy sauce or tamari
sea salt
250 g rice vermicelli, soaked in warm water for 10–15 minutes
400 g baby bok choy (or tatsoi), washed and patted dry, stems trimmed and halved lengthways
Spicy green onion oil Ingredients
4 green onions (shallots), finely sliced
1 jalapeno or long green chilli, finely chopped 1 tsp sea salt
125 ml (1⁄2 cup) neutral oil
Method
Place a large saucepan over medium heat. Add the sesame oil, along with the ginger, garlic and star anise, and sizzle for 15 seconds, until aromatic. Add the stock, cover and bring to the boil. Add the soy sauce or tamari and season with sea salt until you achieve your preferred level of saltiness.
Meanwhile, to make the spicy green onion oil, place the green onion, jalapeno and sea salt in a heatproof bowl. Place the oil in a small saucepan over medium heat. To test the readiness of the oil, place a wooden chopstick or spoon into the oil and, if it sizzles, the oil is hot enough. Very, very carefully, pour the oil over the green onion and chilli, standing back as it will sizzle and splutter. Set aside to cool.
Drain the vermicelli and add it to the broth, along with the baby bok choy. Cook for just 1-2 minutes, until the bok choy is bright green and the noodles are tender. Using tongs, fish the noodles and greens out of the broth and divide among four bowls. Ladle the soup over the top and finish with the spicy green onion oil.
