Fell in love with the minister's son the winter I turnedfourteen. He was not Chinese, but as white as Mary in themanger. For Christmas I prayed for this blond-haired boy, Robert, and a slim new American nose. When I found out that my parents had invited the minister'sfamily over for Christmas Eve dinner, I cried. What would Robertthink of our shabby Chinese Christmas? What would he think of our noisy Chinese relatives who lacked proper Americanmanners? What terrible disappointment would he feel uponseeing not a roasted turkey and sweet potatoes but Chinese food?On Christmas Eve I saw that my mother had outdone herself in creating a strange menu. She was pulling black veins out of thebacks of fleshy prawns. The kitchen was littered with appallingmounds of raw food: A slimy rock cod with bulging eyes thatpleaded not to be thrown into a pan of hot oil. Tofu, whichlooked like stacked wedges of rubbery white sponges. A bowlsoaking dried fungus back to life. A plate of squid, their backscrisscrossed with knife markings so they resembled bicycle tires. And then they arrived  the minister's family and all myrelatives in a clamor of doorbells and rumpled Christmaspackages. Robert grunted hello, and I pretended he was notworthy of existence. Dinner threw me deeper into despair. My relatives lickedthe ends of their chopsticks and reached across the table, dippingthem into the dozen or so plates of food. Robert and his family waited patiently for platters to be passed to them. My relativesmurmured with pleasure when my mother brought out the wholesteamed fish. Robert grimaced. Then my father poked hischopsticks just below the fish eye and plucked out the soft meat."Amy, your favorite," he said, offering me the tender fish cheek. Iwanted to disappear. At the end of the meal my father leaned back and belchedloudly, thanking my mother for her fine cooking. "It's a politeChinese custom to show you are satisfied," explained my father toour astonished guests. Robert was looking down at his plate witha reddened face. The minister managed to muster up a quietburp. I was stunned into silence for the rest of the night. After everyone had gone, my mother said to me, "You wantto be the same as American girls on the outside." She handed mean early gift. It was a miniskirt in beige tweed. "But inside youmust always be Chinese. You must be proud you are different. Your only shame is to have shame."And even though I didn't agree with her then, I knew thatshe understood how much I had suffered during the evening'sdinner. It wasn't until many years later  long after I had gottenover my crush on Robert  that I was able to fully appreciate herlesson and the true purpose behind our particular menu. ForChristmas Eve that year, she had chosen all my favorite foods.