By Lydia Wong

I remember that night when most of my family accompanied me to the airport in Hong Kong. We had a late-night snack at a restaurant there before my flight to London. My sister Karen ordered me some food she thought I would miss the most. We had my favourite: wok-fried flat rice noodles with tender beef sirloin filets, beansprouts and soy sauce, and silky egg omelette stuffed between two pieces of crust-less, pillow-y white bread, cut into triangles. I was so excited, but also really sad that I was about to leave my family for the first time. I don’t quite recall what our conversations were about, perhaps how much I would be missed, how lucky I was to be able to study abroad and how I should do my best. I am quite certain we talked about how to look after myself, especially in the cold English winter.

Up until then, I had never been to anywhere outside of China and now I was moving to London with no idea whatsoever what the adventure would entail. All I had with me that day was one suitcase, the equivalent of 600 Euro (which I saved up over a period of two years), a British Airways one-way ticket and a million butterflies in my stomach. I am still surprised how brave I was!

I walked out of the restaurant alone toward the boarding gate to avert a tearful goodbye. I entered the plane, trying to avoid eye contact with my fellow passengers. I settled into my seat by the window and closed my eyes, tears rolling down my cheeks like morning dew. Little did I know then that it was the beginning of a journey that would change my life forever.

At that time, my plan was to study in university in the hopes of better career prospects when I returned to Macau after a few years. But I fell in love with London pretty much straight away and it became my home for the next fourteen years. London was amazing: the cityscape, architecture, people and the vibrant energy. It was so different from Macau – exciting, unique and multicultural. I felt at ease living there as a foreigner. I met new people everyday and I learned about their cultures, and their food.

Food has always been, for me, a way of understanding other people and places. In Macau food is one of the most important elements in life. In this small peninsula by the Pearl River Delta in southeast China, we greet each other by asking ‘have you eaten yet?’ instead of ‘how are you?’  On special occasions such as Chinese New Year, or a celebration of a new birth, we always give each other a gift of food. As the former Portuguese colony, Macau has developed its own cuisine – Macanese. It is an ‘East-meets-West’ combination of Portuguese and Chinese ingredients and cooking methods (this is why I later called my food blog Ginger & Chorizo). My father loved Macanese food, grilled chorizo and poached bacalhau were his favorites. The smell of olive oil is part of my childhood memories. Having thrived in the mèlange of two very different cultures, I developed a belief that people and food culture are inseparable.

I remember my first Turkish kebab in London Islington, crispy sliced meat stuffed inside a Turkish flat bread with lots of fresh salad, herbs and yogurt, all served up by a bald, cheerful man. This delicious pocket was definitely not my last and kebabs became one of my favourite late-night snacks after a night out! The classic fish and chips in Covent Garden, tender fish filets coated with light crispy batter served with husky potato chips and tartar sauce. It was humble and comforting food, but still exciting for me, a reflection of my feelings for London.

When I was homesick though, I would often go to London’s Chinatown; and eating my favourite Chinese food became a remedy for me. I learned that one of the most popular dishes in Chinatown was ‘Sweet and Sour Pork’. Even its name would bring me back to the small white-tiled kitchen at home in Macau. I can still vividly remember my mother working skilfully with her steel spatula, plating up those crispy cubes of pork and sweet pineapples coated with sticky orange sauce, the day when I learned how to cook ‘Sweet and Sour Pork’ for the first time.

London was also the place where I met Alexander, my now husband, who had great curiosity for my food-loving nature. Since we are both food lovers, we embarked on many delicious journeys together through London. Its ever-changing food scenes and its dynamic spirit enchanted us; we fell madly in love with London, and with each other.

When Alexander relocated his job, we left our beloved city with our ten-month-old baby and moved to Berlin. I started to spend a lot of time in the kitchen and cooked the food that I missed the most, the food that I grew up with and the food that I learned to love living in London.

And Berlin? I love Berlin too, and it has been my home for the last 6 years. It has an amazing food culture, which gave me endless possibilities for working with food in a much more creative way. With my food blog, I record what I cook and recipes from my mother and ones that are inspired from the international food scenes in London.

Now I want to introduce the food I love to my daughter, not only to pass on my family traditions and recipes to her, but for her to understand the food cultures from different countries that have influenced and shaped my life. She is already a gourmet and I am very proud that she can taste what spices I put into a dish. Sometimes she will even do a flavour pairing for me! It is a great comfort to me that she has learnt to appreciate and love food at a young age. I hope one day, she will be reading my blog and cooking her grandmother’s recipes and feeling at home wherever she is.