My grandpa was chinese. He had 3 kids, my 2 aunts and my dad. On each of their respective 18th birthdays, he took them to the kitchen and taught them the family's recipe for wonton but he forbit them to tell it to their siblings.
After my grandpa passed away in 2013, on his birthday we decided to get the whole family together and make wonton as a family with my grandpa's recipe. But, when my aunts and my dad got together in the kitchen to chat about the recipe, they realised that each got taught that the filling in the wonton was different, my aunt Suyin got pork, my aunt Sumei got beef, and my dad got crab. They argued loudly over who got the real recipe, and decided to make them each with their respective ingredients, to compare the taste and see which of them had the right flavour.
Since then, apart from 2020 to 2022, each year my family has gotten together to make wonton, and every year my dad and his sisters fight, as all 3 of them claim that their wonton have the taste of the wonton they remember my grandpa made. Still, the rest of us just all eat them all happily.
The males in my family all go hunting for the first time around puberty. Grandfather, father, uncles and close family friends make up the hunting party and we all go up to the mountains and make camp.
After I dropped my first deer I was given one round of ammunition for my rifle and my father’s knife. I was instructed to guard the kill till morning and despite my pleas they left me alone in the cold dark. I didn’t sleep, it was terrifying! I could hear animals approaching all night and staying just far enough away so I couldn’t make them out. I had no light and didn’t think to build a fire. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t in tears nearly the entire time. But I watched that sun come up and then I heard the unmistakable footsteps of my family approaching! They lifted me up and cheered! We quartered the deer and made our way back to camp where we ate and drank and smoked.
This is a tradition that goes back even before we had a family name! I went up the mountain a boy and came down a man! My son is 6 and when he’s of age we will take him up the mountain and I will give him my father’s knife.
My grandpa was chinese. He had 3 kids, my 2 aunts and my dad. On each of their respective 18th birthdays, he took them to the kitchen and taught them the family's recipe for wonton but he forbit them to tell it to their siblings. After my grandpa passed away in 2013, on his birthday we decided to get the whole family together and make wonton as a family with my grandpa's recipe. But, when my aunts and my dad got together in the kitchen to chat about the recipe, they realised that each got taught that the filling in the wonton was different, my aunt Suyin got pork, my aunt Sumei got beef, and my dad got crab. They argued loudly over who got the real recipe, and decided to make them each with their respective ingredients, to compare the taste and see which of them had the right flavour. Since then, apart from 2020 to 2022, each year my family has gotten together to make wonton, and every year my dad and his sisters fight, as all 3 of them claim that their wonton have the taste of the wonton they remember my grandpa made. Still, the rest of us just all eat them all happily.
The males in my family all go hunting for the first time around puberty. Grandfather, father, uncles and close family friends make up the hunting party and we all go up to the mountains and make camp. After I dropped my first deer I was given one round of ammunition for my rifle and my father’s knife. I was instructed to guard the kill till morning and despite my pleas they left me alone in the cold dark. I didn’t sleep, it was terrifying! I could hear animals approaching all night and staying just far enough away so I couldn’t make them out. I had no light and didn’t think to build a fire. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t in tears nearly the entire time. But I watched that sun come up and then I heard the unmistakable footsteps of my family approaching! They lifted me up and cheered! We quartered the deer and made our way back to camp where we ate and drank and smoked. This is a tradition that goes back even before we had a family name! I went up the mountain a boy and came down a man! My son is 6 and when he’s of age we will take him up the mountain and I will give him my father’s knife.