Written and Photographed by Tim Chin

Except this: I’ve come to a point in my life now where I’m beginning to remember what my parents were like at my age. Also, conversely, my kids are getting to an age that I remember being. My oldest, Kaden, is 10 and in 4th grade. I distinctly remember being 10 and in grade 4 at the end of the 80’s coming home after school for our daily dose of syndicated tv shows, and the smell of my grandmother’s cooking filling the house. It puts me in this space where I am getting a double portion nostalgia-ness. Given the uniqueness of this year, perhaps you could even say a mutant-sized triple portion. 

My birthday, being at the beginning of February, means that it always coincides around the same time as the Chinese Lunar New Year. Every year our family celebrated the new year, with some incredible feast prepared with love by my mom, my aunties and my grandmother. If I’m honest, this fanfare and the effort was lost on the childhood version of me. I think that is because in our house, we were always feasting and always spending time with family and always surrounded with love. It was our state of being. 

Since I got married, new traditions have emerged. Every Chinese New Year would be spent at my in-laws, who live a short drive away and where Angela’s mom would labour for days preparing a grand meal for us. She would pull out all the stops and present us with all the Chinese-y dishes that have-no-English-name-for-whatever-it-is-on-my-plate. My mother-in-law would, of course, give us zero responsibilities other than to ingest and enjoy whatever was put in front of us. The menu wasn’t necessarily the same as how I grew up, but the spirit was. Family. Heritage. Home.

This strange year, all these things – like much of life for everyone everywhere – are put on hold. This year we will be spending Chinese New Year, quietly just the 5 of us, struggling to come up with a menu of our own, traditional recipes partly lost in translation. Strangely though, there is a revived recognition to connect with our roots, longing for that space in our memory.

So it won’t be a ‘traditional’ celebration - there is nothing traditional about requiring to isolate yourselves from the people you love most. But ironically, the desire for tradition is stronger than ever. Perhaps it is one of those things that you appreciate with greater fondness once it is taken away. When we get out of this, I think there will be a rush of appreciation for all the things that made us feel at home. Whether it is the simplicity of gathering as an extended family or the magnanimous effort put in a family meal. I predict we will intentionally gravitate towards all that we took for granted, which has given us our identity. 

My parents worked hard. They owned the neighbourhood video rental store; my dad sold TVs and home theatre systems in the specially built ‘sound room’ on the side. In my teenage years, my parents employed all my friends within a stone’s throw from the store, and evenings not spent together manning the cash at Videoflicks were spent in front of a TV at my house watching the newest release. My parents gave my siblings and me the most fortunate childhood. They consistently taught us by example everything we know about the value of hard work, of kindness and generosity. And even though my mom always had some business item on her mind, whether it was how many copies of the latest Disney movie to order - or how to build the next staff schedule, she still found time to cook us the most incredible meals that to this day, I try to replicate without success. I mean, my kids seem to enjoy it thoroughly enough, but when I say ‘success,’ I define it as that elusive, transportive, time-bending kind of taste that vaults me back to those afternoons in the ’80s. Perhaps, one day, 30 years down the road, my kids are going to find themselves with families of their own trying to replicate what I am making them now. 

Perhaps my version of my mom’s Char Siu will be one of those dishes like that. I am coming to grips with the reality that I will never be able to duplicate it, but also, maybe that shouldn’t be the goal. This Chinese Lunar New Year, this is how I’ve decided to outlet my longing for family and tradition. With COVID -19 protocols still very much active in our area, all the typical events we tend to enjoy at this time of year have been cancelled. There’s no church-wide potluck, no extended family gatherings. The challenge is how do we recreate this community celebration while maintaining social distance and without relying solely on yet another dreadful zoom meeting. So, I will attempt to infuse the experience of my childhood, the generosity my parents showed me, and pour it into an attempt to master this dish and share it. 

Now a disclaimer, this recipe below is not the Hong Kong-style Char Sir you’ll find at a dim sum restaurant or at the Chinese grocer. It is also not quite my mom’s. That one is a secret that I am still convinced she is holding onto tightly, even from me. This recipe is kind of like an echo of my mom’s - a somewhat subordinate, somewhat inferior, imitation version (it’s still pretty good though, just ask my mom).

So with that out of the way, here we go.

Char Siu Recipe

Prep time: 25 minutes

Cooking time: 50 minutes

Ingredients:

5 lb boneless Pork Shoulder

1 cup Hoisin Sauce

1 cup Sugar

1 tsp Ground White Pepper

2 tbsp Dark Soy Sauce

2 tbsp Light Soy Sauce

2 tsp Chinese Five Spice

1 tbsp Red Bean Curd

2 oz Bourbon* (Traditionally, it calls for Chinese cooking wine, but I like the stronger flavour of Bourbon or Rum)

Barbeque METHOD

Set up an indirect fire, so the meat is never sitting over an open flame. The sugar will burn if you do that. Lay down your meat so that there’s enough space between the pieces for better airflow between them. Close up the lid, and leave for 40 minutes.

OVEN METHOD

Preheat the over to 375ºF. Space out the meat on a baking sheet, so none of the pieces are touching each other. Pop it in for about 40-50 minutes.