Sense of Distance

It was a quiet afternoon. There was snow outside and nothing planned — just me, some flour, and a craving I couldn’t name. Living thousands of miles from home has changed how I think about communication. I study communication, but I can often express myself more in the kitchen than in the classroom. Since I’m an introvert, I consider cooking to be the easiest and most authentic way of sharing my feelings, memories, and identity.

Boston’s Chinese Cuisine  → Cooking at Home

After trying many Chinese restaurants in Boston, I felt something was missing. The food was occasionally good, but it was not quite as tasty as what I ate at home. The flavors were close yet not completely authentic. That’s why I started cooking for myself. 

I do not cook to save money. I cook because the only thing that can give me the comfort, taste, and feeling I require is homemade food.

Fresh Meat Mooncakes

Among the many dishes that I make, fresh meat mooncakes are particularly significant to me. They are very different from sweet mooncakes, something people are familiar with during the Mid-Autumn Festival. This Shanghai-style dish is savory, not sweet. A fresh meat mooncake has a light, crisp, and layered pastry, and the flavorful filling is rich and juicy. They are not very popular beyond Chinese culture, which makes it all the more special for me to prepare and serve them in Boston.

Figure 1. The dough doesn’t forgive impatience—neither does homesickness.

It takes patience and care to make them right.

I made the dough and oiled the pastry first, since the pastry’s layered texture is sensitive to handling. Next, I sprinkled spice on the pork filling. Then I rolled the dough around the filling, rolled the individual mooncakes, dipped them in egg, and dotted them with sesame. As they baked, I monitored them closely, watching their surfaces slowly turn golden and glossy.  

I have one slight modification to the recipe: In Boston, I am unable to get the traditional pork lard required for the flaky pastry, so I substituted unsalted butter. The result was good, but the flavor and the texture were not exactly what I remembered. 

That substitution felt meaningful to me, reminding me of translating something from Chinese into English: The message might come through, and the beauty might remain, but something from the initial rhythm will always change. The mooncakes were like a mirror of my life in a foreign land — they were real and honest but also shaped by where I was.

The mooncakes were like a mirror of my life in a foreign land — they were real and honest but also shaped by where I was.

Inviting Friends to Dinner

I’m not the type to easily strike up conversations, especially in new social settings. Yet I feel most like myself when I have people over for dinner. Last week, my friends visited me, and when they saw fresh meat mooncakes on the table, most of them had never seen anything like it. I was unable to describe the whole cultural significance of the dish because it wasn’t just a pastry. It combined my homeland, family connections, and the comfort of a familiar flavor prepared in a foreign place. 

But I believe that there is not always a need to explain. 

When one of my friends took a bite, stopped, and simply said, “That was delicious,” I beamed. That review was more direct than anything I could have said out loud. The food said what I wanted to say.

Figure 2. Golden on the outside, a little bit of home on the inside.

It was at the dinner table that I felt most understood. Conversation flowed easily. My friends asked questions, compared tastes, and laughed. Everyone started sharing stories about food from home. Food broke the ice and made everything warmer. I learned to build friendships not by being more vocal, but by being more generous. Preparing food helped me understand we do not always need to discuss something — connection can happen just from preparing and serving something made with care.

Figure 3. No one asked for a translation. The food did the talking.

Cooking is a love letter to my hometown and also an outstretched hand extended to my friends. One semester after studying communication, I’ve learned that the best conversations happen not in class but at the dinner table, where food helps me share memories, care, identity, and connection.

Ellyn is a laid-back storyteller who loves to share her perspectives when inspiration comes. She is pursuing a bachelor’s degree in media science at Boston University, and hopes to narrate more eye-catching stories related to the fashion industry.

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