finding my roots in food

Had a "Chinese migration" moment last night over dinner at Phnom Penh, a Cambodian-Vietnamese restaurant in Chinatown. Though I often claim my Hong Kong Cantonese roots, my mom's Chiuchow heritage sometimes smacks me in the face - which it did while we perused the menu:

"Trieu Chau Fried Rice...that sounds tasty...Chinese sausage, eggs, onions...sounds a lot like my mom's fried rice....hey....how come I can understand that waiter? I don't speak Cambodian...or Vietnamese....wait a minute....she's speaking Cantonese....and now he's speaking...Chiuchow...I think...I wonder what would happen if I tried to order 'chiu chow chow fan'..."

Well, wonder of wonders, it worked.

Okay, so I'm a little slow at times. Despite a BA in Chinese migration and a rather recent teaching stint during which I heard Henry pontificate numerous times on Chinese migration from the Chiuchow region of Guangdong Province to Vietnam, it took me three visits to Phnom Penh to realize that I was just eating my mom's home cooking.

In any event, the deep fried spicy squid is to die for. You should all converge upon Phnom Penh for dinner tonight.