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Flour has had quite a pivotal role in our family story. We moved around a lot during my childhood, and after wandering between several cities, my dad eventually decided to settle in Fengtian. At first he would make some savoury pastries at home, and I would sell them at the local market with my siblings. Later on my parents opened up a breakfast joint, that was how we began our new life here.
I think my dislike towards these pastries, like cabbage buns and chive turnovers, actually started around the time we had that breakfast place, just because of how much I craved to have western breakfast instead of the Chinese breakfast from our own shop. I wanted to have burgers and pancakes for breakfast so bad, but starting a new life meant we had limited options, eating from our own shop was the cheapest way to survive.
Now that we no longer have that shop, my dad rarely makes them anymore, but he would occasionally make them when nostalgia kicks in. Afterall, those buns and turnovers helped us to live the life we have today, so the emotional attachment is still there. I also have been thinking lately that I should ask my dad to teach me how to make them, mainly so I can swap the filling with beef and lamb, because I am trying to restart my life as a Muslim.
I recently rekindled my relationship with pastries about six months ago, it probably has to do with the fact that my sister and her family moved out of my house. They used to decide and cook our daily meals, but now that I am the only one living here, I need to make that decision. I realised I actually quite like eating buns and pancakes and noodles, but I am not sure if it is the food that I like, or the fact that deciding to eat pastries gives me the feeling of having my own place to myself again.
It does not really matter what is the reason behind, dishes made from flour have been my faithful companion along different turns of my life, always witnessing my transition and settling into new homes.
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