#look i'm unemployed and i have very little disposable income so i can't take my friends out for a proper lunar new year dinner

[thevalleyisjolly]

One of my dreams is to just take all my friends out for a Lunar New Year’s dinner at a Cantonese seafood restaurant.  The (admittedly loud) experience of sitting at one of the big round tables, the piping hot ceramic teapots that always spill on the tablecloth no matter how carefully you pour, the waiters handing out the hot towelettes before the first course.  In the really fancy places, they give you actual rolls of towels from a tray of hot water, but most places just have the pre-packaged disposable ones. Lucky money has already been handed out (and a whole horde of young people suddenly conveniently had to go to the bathroom because opening your lai see in front of others is beyond rude).

Then the first courses - two course Peking duck, of course, a true hallmark of how special the evening is.  Hot Cantonese seafood soup that you always squint suspiciously at even though everyone swears there’s no shark fin in it.  The rice comes out in perfect little domes, signalling the start of the main dishes.  Bitter snow pea leaves stir-fried with garlic, white chunks of fish with snap peas, the dark mushroom dish in a stone pot that the older adults love, the crispy noodles, the obligatory sweet and sour pork, the crispy skin chicken with shrimp chips and sea salt on the side for flavouring, maybe king crab if you’re really feeling fancy (and rich).  Then the moment when the star of the meal comes out, the whole steamed fish on a nest of ginger, green onions, and soy sauce.  Sometimes the waiter shows it off, presents the fish to the oldest or most important looking person at the table for their approval, before whisking it away to actually cut up the fish so you can eat it.

Despite all this, someone will inevitably think there’s not enough food and order a stone pot rice or a bowl of noodles, which exactly two people will poke at because there’s already enough leftovers for several days.

Tiny ceramic tea cups refilled many, many times.  Every five minutes, there’s always someone spinning the Lazy Susan, reaching for the teapot (which for some reason, always has a little plastic spout taped on that does nothing to stop it dripping everywhere).  The person beside them will pour for them, that’s just manners, and for everyone else in the nearby vicinity who has a cup that’s less than full.  Inevitable calls for more hot water, as the tea steeps and becomes over-bitter for even the toughest old aunties.  Tonight is for tea and hot water - perhaps some of the younger generation may indulge in a beer, and the really little kids bring their own sippy cups or get a glass of cold water, but there isn’t a soda or novelty drink to be found.

Dessert, usually red bean soup, maybe a sweet mung bean soup.  Sometimes the waiter will bring over a few plates of tapioca or mango pudding for those who don’t want soup.  Usually it’s for the children, but the adults do a really bad job of pretending they’re not jealous the whole time.  Surprisingly, there isn’t much of a fight over the bill this time, this meal’s been planned for weeks and everyone’s paid their share in advance, but there’s an even fiercer fight over who has to take home all the leftovers. Inevitably, it gets foisted on the younger generation, the elders talking about how they have no appetite nowadays and how it’s very bad for their health to eat all this and how it saves you kids having to cook a few meals since you can’t cook proper Chinese food anyways. Naturally the person who ordered the extra dishes will be saddled with the bulk of the leftovers, as is only fair.

The very slow and meandering goodbyes, people running to the bathroom from all the tea, and the last minute carpool arrangements because why would people go home in the same cars they came in?  The yawning children wave a sleepy goodbye to the crabs in their tanks as they leave.  The fish tanks are a vital part of any Chinese seafood restaurant worth anything, and have fascinated generations of squirmy children getting a little too bored in their high chairs. And that is another Lunar New Year!