J-emine's reflexionando

My parents are gracious hosts and their tender hospitality towards friends and families, never fails to leave a fuzzy warmth in my heart.

Dad loves to whip up home-cooked delicacies or attempt new recipes that he’s conjured up on his own. Mom is his best kitchen aid, she knows all of his kitchen perks and maneuver. I guess that speaks volumes on their 35 odd years partnership. Cooking (and hosting) is indeed my parents’ language of love towards families and friends.

This weekend we had a small group of friends that came over for a belated #friendsgiving. It was Dad’s ‘cook-as-you-eat’ night, which basically means the dishes are cooked on the spot, whilst the guests sit around sipping on their wine, sampling hot platters after platters from the kitchen and generally, conversations at this point are light-hearted, as we speculate of what comes out from the kitchen next. It’s relaxed, cozy and prevents one to ‘stand on ceremony’ in our humble abode.

You may ask does the cook-cum- host come out to dine? He does only when he’s presented all his dishes, of which he’ll then sashay out with a newly opened bottle of wine and proceed to do his rounds (usually with the caveat of checking what’s on your plate).

The flow of topics around the dinner table gears up when all is seated around the table and tucking into the warm, hearty dishes. The topics of yesternight range from history, summer camps, farewell parties, tibetan bowls, and others which never fails to leave me buzzing with excitement or angst. Why? Well, I tend to take on the role of a translator – when the host’s broken English gives way after too many glasses of wine (or hard liquor), and eagerness kicks in when I can’t keep up with his verbal speech and gesticulation. Yes, my old man keeps me very busy and entertain 🙂

Lovely night. At the Phua’s humble abode.