情以食牵 妈妈的爱伴我留学旅途

On the last evening of my mom’s most recent trip to visit me in London, she sat across the table peeling pomegranate seeds into a big bowl.

最近妈妈来伦敦看我。在临走前一晚，她坐在桌对面，剥了一大碗的石榴籽。

"Eat this tomorrow after I’m gone, you lazy bee," she teased, dismissing the piles of books, clothes and electronics across the table waiting to be packed into her luggage.

“明天我走了以后，把这个吃了，你个懒虫。”她一边剥一边笑话我，尽管她还没有把桌对面成堆的书、衣物和电子设备等打包装好。

Mom knows me too well: pomegranate seeds are my favorite. They never appear on my food schedule though, as I lack the patience to peel them properly.

妈妈太了解我了：石榴是我的最爱。但它们从未进入我的食物清单，因为我没那个耐心去一颗颗地剥出来。

Mom doesn’t have the patience either, except when it comes to feeding me.

其实妈妈也没那个耐心。只是为了我能吃上，她甘愿去做。

Her hand moved gently and swiftly, while her eyes looked carefully at the small watery little seeds, attentively trying not to crush them.

她的手轻柔敏捷地移动，眼睛紧紧盯着那一颗颗小小的多汁的石榴籽，生怕碰碎了它们。

When I woke up the next day and opened the fridge. Sure enough, waiting for me was a clear jar of perfect smooth and shiny pomegranate seeds.

等到我次日起床，打开冰箱一看，果不其然，一瓶圆润鲜亮的石榴籽正等着我呢。

Ever since I left home to study in London ten years ago, food is a big part of mom’s London visits.

自从我10年前离家赴伦敦求学，食物一直是妈妈来看我的必备礼物。

With each trip, she would be sure to fill the entire fridge with hand-made dumplings, rice cakes, rice puddings, sesame filled sweet dumplings and many other sweets I struggle to find English translations for.

每次来，她都会把冰箱装满各种手工饺子、米糕、八宝饭、芝麻馅的汤圆，还有好多我没法用英文描述的甜食。

I love watching her knead the dough, turning the loose flour into individual circular layers of dumpling wraps, like little flower pedals. Her hand would effortlessly fold up these wraps into moon-shaped dumplings, and place them neatly into a tray.

我喜欢看她揉面团，将那松软的面粉变成一片片圆形的饺子皮，仿佛一片片小花瓣。她毫不费力地将那些饺子皮折成月牙形状的饺子，然后挨个在盘子里码好。

Whenever it’s time to say goodbye, mom would never say that she misses me, or that she loves me. Instead, she’ll remark casually: "don’t starve yourself while I’m not with you".

每每到了离别时分，妈妈从不说她有多想我，或者有多爱我，而只是随意地提那么一句：“我不在的时候，别饿着啊。”

Mom belongs to a generation where food is an expression of love.

妈妈生在那样一个时代，那时候，人们用食物来表达爱意。

Born in the 60s to parents who were accountants in a factory at a time when China was still a planned economy, food meant everything.

上世纪六十年代，妈妈生于一个工厂会计家庭。在那个计划经济时期，对百姓来说，食物就是天。

Her favorite after-school activity was visiting an old nanny, who would feed her rice mixed with seasame oil. "Mmm…. that’s the best food we could hope for back then," she would say.

她每天放学后最爱做的事，就是去看一位老奶奶，老奶奶会给她吃芝麻油拌米饭。“嗯，在那个年代，这就是我们能想到的最好的食物了。”她说。

During her last month at high school, when she was studying for her university entrance exam, my grandparents gave her the best ever nutritional food they could afford: an egg every day. "Gosh, the egg put on so much pressure on my studies."

高考前的一个月，妈妈复习考试时，外公外婆把家里最有营养的食物拿出来给她——每天一个鸡蛋。“天啊，那些鸡蛋给了我好多压力督促我好好学习。”

By the 1990s, when I was born, food was no longer so scarce in China. So my understanding of why food is so essential to the Chinese culture mostly comes from my mom’s stories.

到了九十年代，也就是我出生的时候，中国的食物已经没有那么紧缺。所以，关于食物在中国文化中占据的“天”的位置，我都是从妈妈的故事里了解的。

In my mother’s generation, people would greet each other using the phrase of "Have you eaten?" instead of the more familiar "how are you?" We don’t do that in China anymore, but I still look forward to the ritual of my whole family gathering together to prepare food across a big kitchen table at special occasions, such as the Chinese New Year.

在我妈妈那个年代，人们见面打招呼会说“你吃了吗？”，而不是我们更熟悉的“你好吗？”中国人现在已经不这么说了，但是我仍然对春节等特殊节日里全家人聚在一起，在大大的厨房桌台上准备食物的传统感到期待。

Such fond childhood memories have stayed with me. It’s funny that living in the super health-conscious city of London has taught me to think about food in terms of calories and carb content when I shop at Waitrose.

这些幸福的童年回忆一直陪伴着我。有趣的是，生活在健康意识极强的伦敦，我学会了在Waitrose购物时，去关注食物的卡路里和碳水化合物含量。

Well, mom’s home-made dumplings don’t have any food labels. No calorie calculation, no fat percentages, nothing on the package telling me to eat my "five a day". Instead, every bite of mom’s food tastes of love, and of the feeling of home.

妈妈做的手工饺子上，没有任何产品标签。没有能量值，脂肪含量，也没有“每天五个”的说明。相反，我每吃一口，都能尝到爱和家的味道。

Over the last few years, London’s Chinatown has undergone a massive face-lift. New shops and restaurants are popping up, offering an increasingly diverse range of authentic Chinese snacks and regional products, which helped me to rekindle my sweet childhood memories.

过去的几年里，伦敦的唐人街发生了翻天覆地的变化。新店铺和饭店层出不穷，能提供品种愈加丰富的地道中国小吃和特产。这使我重新燃起了童年的美好回忆。

During those "treasure hunting" shopping trips, I would also see many British shoppers carrying big bags of snacks. I am glad that food can help to create for them a happy, tangible and real way to connect with the culture of China.

去那些店铺“淘宝”的时候，我看到很多英国人手里也拿着大袋零食。食物能让他们快乐、真切、真正地与中国文化相连，真好。