This blog is dedicated to my father, who always sighed when I let the congee boil over, and to my mother, who let me doctor up my congee with milk and sugar when I was a little girl.
My father was my first cooking teacher. He passed away this past Tuesday, December 24, and I think he would have liked to hear about all the different congees Adam and I make. My mother was the first person to make me congee (although we always just called it "porridge"), showing me its remarkable body-and-soul-healing powers. She passed away 16 years ago, but I think of her every single day.
I love you, Mom and Dad. Peace be with you.