Last updated on September 3rd, 2023 at 09:50 am
One of my favorite things about having kids is celebrating holidays with them. I truly believe that there’s a kind of magic that surrounds holidays, and if we’re lucky enough we get to all be home together and keep old traditions alive. Sometimes, kids allow you to start new traditions too, and to me, that’s the best part.
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I grew up in a pretty secular home, my dad being of Jewish ancestry and my mom of Catholic, but we weren’t observant at all. I’m also half Chinese, and I was introduced to so many more traditions, foods, and phrases than a lot of my friends were. I visited my grandparents (Goong-Goong – grandpa, and Paw-Paw — grandma) all the time and they constantly fed my sister and me “ahn-tat” – sweet custard egg tarts – on lazy summer mornings, homemade “Gaa” – winter melon – soup on cold winter evenings, and my Paw-Paw even tried her hand at Chinese spaghetti (meat sauce cooked in a wok) to please her picky American grandchildren. My sister went to Chinese school as a toddler, and took Kung Fu lessons as a teen. We also went to Hebrew summer camp, to give you an idea of the multicultural upbringing we had. I learned how to scrape each and every grain of rice off my plate with chopsticks to the sound of Goong-Goong reminding me about the starving children in China. Of course, with these life lessons also came the fun side of immersive culture: holidays.
The celebration of a new lunar year was full of heaping hot plates of Cantonese lobster, juicy aromatic veggies, thousands of noodle dishes, sweet steamed breads, and warm light soups. And most exciting to my sister and me was receiving red envelopes of cash from all our older relatives (we were the first grandkids, so that meant all of them) that were always immediately snatched by my parents and relegated to the college fund (extremely grateful now; a little resentful then). Sometimes Goong-Goong would mess with me and put an IOU in there. I’ve always had a sweet, special place in my heart for Chinese New Year. Few of my friends celebrated it, and I’m pretty sure I was the only one that had one of those Chinese dragon drum rattles.
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For me, the magic of Chinese New Year radiated from the giant dragon heads marching down the parade route in Chinatown and the flash of red and gold lanterns that decorated every steamy, roasted duck-filled Chinese restaurant window. It’s usually chilly during Chinese New Year in New York City, so there’s something so comforting about coming in from the frosty outside and being warmed up by hot food and loud family all clamoring for family updates. It’s a great way to round out the winter holiday season.
When I was pregnant, I threw a Chinese New Year dinner party for my husband’s family to introduce them to a holiday they knew almost nothing about. I think the extent to his suburban New Jersey Italian family’s knowledge of Chinese culture was understandably very limited. I was so psyched for this party. I bought red and gold party favors, everyone got a red envelope with treats in it, the kids got dragon rattles, we ate off of red plates, and everyone was equipped with a set of chopsticks (and emergency fork). My mom came over and helped me cook enough food for a small army. We had beef and broccoli, steamed bok choy with Chinese mushrooms, crunchy long green beans, lo mein, shrimp, and enough rice to last a lifetime. It was one of my favorite moments because it was my chance to bring our families together and start a new holiday tradition with my twins before they were even born (all three of us were stuffed).
This year, my boys will be almost two when Chinese New Year rolls around and my mom is throwing the party. I’m so excited for them to get excited about it. A big thing that I’ve learned in the short time I’ve been a parent is how much their excitement and joy truly fulfills me. That feeling…is priceless. I want them to have a special place in their hearts for this holiday. That quarter-Chinese part of them will be proud. I’m hoping in the next few years, they’ll be able to proudly count to ten in Cantonese, just like I used to do for my grandparents. I hope they look forward to getting red envelopes (sorry boys, two in college tuitions at once lets me take those) and watching the parade and stuffing their faces with chau siu bao (roast pork buns). I want them to wake up in the morning feeling that inkling of magic because of part of them is innately tied to a great tradition deeply rooted in the generations before them.
So this year, take the kiddos out to an authentic Chinese New Year dinner! The energy is incredible. And with that, Happy Chinese New Year! GUNG HAY FAT CHOY!
