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The Chinese Parental Factor (part 2)

Coming from your typical dysfunctional Western family, one thing that has always impressed me the most about the Chinese is their sense of family unity. Chinese parents are legendary for their willingness to give up everything so their kids can have a shot at a successful life, and it never fails to move me how my girlfriend’s mother and father have gone without so she can have stylish clothes and a good education.

I don’t mean to say some parents in England don’t make sacrifices for their kids: many have been virtually bankrupted paying for their children’s education. The difference is that most English kids don’t really reciprocate their parents’ huge financial and emotional investments. If they did, there’d certainly be far fewer ESL teachers from England bumming around China on subsistence-level salaries.

It was with the strong Chinese family bond in mind, and my undoubted ability to foul it up, that I dumped a large pile of belongings onto the floor of my girlfriend's parents’ living room. I was between jobs and moving in temporarily with potential in-laws seemed like a good idea. As my girlfriend’s mother eyed the mound of dusty suitcases now blocking her view of the TV, I wasn’t quite so sure.

A couple of days later, my Chinese was miraculously starting to improve, and I became accustomed to the regimented family routine—up at six, leave the house by eight, dinner at six thirty and lights out at nine thirty—I’d never gone to bed so early since I was 12.

After a week of observing my culinary habits, I noticed that my girlfriend’s mother had started to fill the refrigerator with cheese, butter and bacon, and there was always a fresh loaf sitting on the table waiting to be toasted. From someone visibly repulsed by my application of honey to bread each morning, this was a welcome and extremely generous surprise, and prompted me to head into the kitchen the next evening to cook dinner.

I don’t profess to be a master chef, but the moment I laid mashed potato and sausages in front of my girlfriend's father my standing seemed to go up dramatically. From then on I was requested to bring forth all manner of “laowai dishes” on a regular basis, from curry through to chilli, and the peanut oil and rice vinegar that had no doubt occupied the same corner of the kitchen for years were replaced overnight by olive oil and balsamic vinegar.

There’s a saying that the best way to an Englishman’s heart is through his stomach—it seemed like this was also true in China. More culinary insight in next month’s Culture Connection.