On dining with the clan.

J. H.’s family members devour the meals with gusto at times like this, and I revel in these temporary ceasefires in the war against my presence when the only sound at our table is that of eating.

Shreds of poached chicken are dipped in salty oils seasoned with ginger and green onions, while precise squares of roast suckling pig perch on savory soybeans. Everyone dives into plates of massive steamed prawns with roe still clasped between their tiny legs or coral-hued crabs studded with black beans and chopped garlic.

Any ladylike pretenses are set aside as J. H.’s mother demolishes more food than anyone. Her appetite is nothing short of fierce, and the growing heaps of shells and bones in front of her dare us to keep up.

During these feasts, she actually smiles and joins in whatever jokes are being told. Granted, she doesn’t look in my direction very often, but I’m not complaining.

In addition to LA’s Now Serving, all these independent bookshops and retail stores offer online sales of AT THE CHINESE TABLE:

Amazon

Apple

Barnes & Noble

Books-A-Million

Bookshop

IndieBound

Omnivore Books

On not falling in love at first sight.

It’s hard to believe, but true: J. H. was the first person I met when I landed in Taiwan.

“Ah,” people sigh when they hear that. “Love at first sight. How sweet.”

Anything but. I loathed the man. He made that reaction easy, for the first words out of his mouth were, “Oh, you’re the one who hates kids.” He was collecting me and the other students at the old Songshan Airport on Taipei’s northern outskirts when he said that. Bent almost double under my big army backpack, wearing an olive green unitard with an Equal Rights pendant flopping about, I panted with as much restraint as I could muster that I had merely asked that there be no babies or toddlers in my host family, that I wanted to study quietly without getting roped in as somebody’s free babysitter.

“Like I said,” he growled, “you’re the one who hates kids.”

J. H. worked as an administrator at my school, and as far as he was concerned I was just one more in the long line of pain-in-the-butt American college students he had to mollycoddle and spoon-feed. My request, according to him, took ages to satisfy, since all the families on his list had small children and/or babies. So he was not inclined to like me much, either.

On the in-laws.

We arrived in Los Angeles the morning after [my father-in-law’s] passing and immediately met with the family at a mortuary. By that time, his father had already been set up in a viewing room. But instead of looking dead, he simply appeared sound asleep.

That gave us no small amount of comfort, for his astounding ability to sleep through absolutely anything had been so unparalleled that we hoped he was bypassing death itself via a very long snooze.

He gained world class napper fame during a stay at Little Three’s suburban house on the outskirts of Long Beach, where he busied himself tending her roses, cooking, and watching television.

One day I heard on the radio that a plane had crashed into a residential part of Cerritos and that many people had been killed on the ground. Frantic, I called Little Three’s home again and again, but no one answered. Many hours later, I finally got a sheriff’s deputy to tell me where exactly the plane had fallen and found out it was half a mile from her home, meaning that everyone in the family was safe.

When Little Three called us back that evening, she told us their father had slept through it all: crash, explosions, earthquake- level heavings of the earth, sirens, the whole enchilada.

Chinatown- style almond cookies

Cookies:

¾ cup | 145 g organic solid vegetable shortening, good lard, or unsalted butter

½ cup | 100 g granulated sugar

¼ cup | 45 g coconut sugar or packed dark brown sugar

1 large egg

1 tablespoon almond extract

2 teaspoons vanilla extract

¾ cup | 100 g ground almonds

1¾ cups | 165 g unbleached pastry flour

¾ teaspoon fine sea salt

¾ teaspoon baking soda

Topping:

1 large egg, lightly beaten

32 whole almonds, unblanched or blanched (with or without skin)

Place the shortening or lard, both sugars, the egg, and both extracts in the bowl of a food processor. Whiz them for around a minute, stopping the machine now and then to scrape down the sides, until you have a very light, creamy mixture. Mix together the ground almonds, pastry flour, fine sea salt, and baking soda in a small bowl. Add this mixture to the food processor and pulse until the dough is evenly mixed.

Lay 2 sheets of parchment paper or foil on your work surface. Scrape half of the dough onto each sheet, spread each portion into an even, 8-inch | 20-cm long log-like shape, and roll the dough up in the paper or foil like a cigar. Freeze the dough for about 20 minutes, just until it is solid but still easy to cut.

Place the racks in the upper and lower thirds of your oven and set it to 275 degrees F | 135 degrees C. Line two baking sheets with Silpats or parchment paper.

Cut each log of dough into 16 even pieces. (The dough may feel slightly sticky at this point, but that’s normal.) Place them on the lined sheets about 2 inches | 5 cm apart. Brush each slice with beaten egg and then press a whole almond in the center.

Bake the cookies for 25 minutes. Rotate the sheets from top to bottom and back to front, and increase the heat to 325 degrees F | 160 degrees C. Continue to bake for about 10 minutes more, until the cookies are golden brown. Remove from the oven and let cool to room temperature on the sheets. Store them in an airtight container at room temperature or freeze for longer storage.

Makes 32 cookies.

Garlic chile sauce

8 fat cloves garlic, finely chopped

1 pound | 500 g fresh red chiles of any kind (Fresnos recommended), seeded and finely chopped

1 tablespoon fine sea salt, or more to taste

6 tablespoons | 90 ml vegetable oil, such as peanut or canola

2 teaspoons sugar, or more to taste

Place the garlic and chiles in a medium bowl, sprinkle with the fine sea salt, toss, and let sit for about 5 minutes so that they sweat.

Pour the oil into a wok or a large frying pan and set it over low heat. Add the garlic and chiles and cook slowly for about 10 minutes, stirring every minute or so as they gently bubble away and dissolve into a slightly mushy and aromatic sauce. (Sometimes you just can’t get the heat on even your weakest burner down low enough for recipes like this. If that’s the case at your house, keep only an edge of the pan on the burner, stir often, and add more oil as needed.)

Mix in the sugar, cook for another minute, and then taste. Add more salt or sugar as desired.

Scrape the hot chile sauce into a sterilized 1-cup | 250-ml jar. When the chile sauce has cooled, screw on the cap and refrigerate.

Makes about 1 cup | 250 ml.

Chilled winter melon with wine & ginger

A square piece of winter melon (about 1 pound | 500 g and as flat as possible)

2 teaspoons mushroom seasoning, plus more to taste

2 tablespoons Shaoxing rice wine, plus more to taste

1 tablespoon fresh ginger juice

1 lemon, preferably a Meyer lemon

2 tablespoons julienned young ginger

Rinse the winter melon and pat dry. Remove the seeds and membranes, then cut off any corners that stick up too much. Slash the flesh down the length of the melon into strips about 1 inch | 2 cm wide, cutting all the way down to, but not through, the skin. Turn the melon 90 degrees and slash the flesh again into strips about 1 inch | 2 cm wide.

Set up a steamer. Place the melon on a rimmed heatproof plate and sprinkle with the mushroom seasoning and rice wine. Set it in the steamer and steam until the flesh is tender, about 20 to 30 minutes. Remove from the heat.

When the melon has cooled enough to handle easily, put it flesh side down in a container and pour in any liquid from the plate. Taste the liquid, and add more mushroom seasoning and rice wine as needed. Pour in the ginger juice. Zest the lemon and sprinkle in the zest, then add about a teaspoon of lemon juice. Cover the container and refrigerate the melon overnight.

Just before serving, use a thin blade to cut the flesh loose from the skin without disrupting its natural shape, and discard the skin.

Place the melon on a rimmed serving plate. Taste the sauce again and adjust the seasoning as needed. Sprinkle the julienned ginger over the melon and serve cold.

Serves 4 to 6 as an appetizer.