And then I succumbed to my own desires once more as I walked past the soup steamer in front of the shop.
Oh right, there’s still the bitter melon soup that I haven’t eaten yet.
“Ma’am, is the bitter melon soup ready today?” I thought of hot steamed rice, polished white rice stripped of its bran until it’s almost just white flour, devoid of vitamins. But why care, when all I want is to eat rice with bitter melon soup, right? At this moment, I wouldn’t call for brown rice, black jasmine rice, or even Sangyod rice from Phatthalung to ruin the mood.
“It’s ready, doctor. Actually, if you wait a bit longer, it would be better, but if you’re really hungry, I can take it out and boil it for you first.” She must have seen me wanting to eat it for several days now.
“Do you know, doctor, with this kind of soup, if we stew it, the pork will be tender, but if we boil it, the pork will be tough.” The lady sat down on a chair to chat with me. Today, I ate since half-past five, and there were no customers in the shop, so she had time to sit and chat with me.
“Your soup is very clear, ma’am,” I continued to express my admiration.
“If we stew it, the broth will be clear like this.” Ah, she seems to be a real soup stewing expert.
The bitter melon is so tender, almost not needing teeth to chew. I tried mashing it by pushing the mushy piece of bitter melon up against the roof of my mouth with my tongue. It was mushy and smooth, with just a hint of bitterness to remind me of the charm of bitter melon. I poured the soup over it, spread the rice grains apart, scooped up three pieces of chopped chili, mixed them, and put it in my mouth.
“Oh, ma’am, it’s excellent,” I praised.
The lady smiled.
“Ma’am, seriously, who is this bowl next to me for?” I was referring to the bowl of rice topped with crispy pork salad (my little sister’s favorite dish), mixed vegetables, and stewed pork stomach (my favorite dish). It was placed on the table with me again.
“Are you letting me eat with the gods, ma’am?” I teased her. “The gods of heaven and earth,” she said, and at the same time, a staff member in the shop placed that bowl of rice on the shelf above my head at the post where I was sitting.
“There’s another one, doctor, by my stove there’s another god,” she smiled.
The belief of the Chinese people, passed down from the mainland for many generations, still exists. The gods are communicated with through the incense smoke that floats around. “My house also has a stove god, ma’am,” I said, smiling with twinkling eyes before scooping up the soup to sip. “Slurp.”
The lady looked at her work through the tip of the spoon I was putting in my mouth. She seemed satisfied.
Well, I didn’t express it too much, it was really delicious.
“At my house, we worship the god Yan Wo Yun,” I thought of the image of that god, a chubby child sitting with a protruding belly next to a bottle of shiitake sauce, the god of delicious food in the house, “the protruding belly god.”
Thinking of the belly button, I thought of my female patient today………………
“Your tissue sample is just a simple chocolate cyst,” I reported the results of the right ovarian tissue we removed last month through a laparoscope.
“I didn’t perform the surgery myself, Professor Satit did it. He’s skilled with the laparoscope,” I informed her. Since turning to be a gynecologist, my work rarely requires a laparoscope. Everything that can be removed through the vagina, I pull out that way.
“I stitched the belly button wound myself,” I remembered that at that time, Professor Satit had to go perform another surgery.
“Thank you, doctor, but I feel like there’s a suture sticking out at the belly button,” she said. “Really? Normally, we use dissolvable sutures there, it might protrude without causing any problems,” I explained, but felt puzzled.
“There’s a pointed end,” she seemed uneasy, and I started to feel uneasy too, because the suture we used was supposed to be very soft.
“Let me take a look,” I expressed my intention.
I looked down at her belly button as soon as she lifted her shirt. “I can’t see, I forgot my glasses,” I was frustrated but couldn’t help using my fingers to part the belly button groove, focusing my eyes intently. There it was, a black tip sticking out.
“Strange,” I muttered.
Then I flicked it with my fingertip, it wobbled and then came off with a “thud.”
Well… the “thud” sound was quite loud. I straightened up and walked over to whisper beside her.
“Hey, it’s just dirt, not a suture.”
We looked at each other and burst out laughing in the examination room…………………..
“Are you Chinese, doctor?” She seemed confused. What kind of Chinese, so dark like this.
“Yes, why do you ask?” I was curious. “I see you like soup, that’s a Chinese trait,” she analyzed my lineage.
“Yes, I have a lot of Chinese blood, ma’am. My grandfather came from China,” I imagined and saw the map of the island my grandfather came from.
“What island in China, ma’am, where there are no men?” I asked, and she looked puzzled and shook her head.
“Do you give up?”
“Tell me, I’m confused.”
“It’s the island of Ham Lai, ma’am. My grandfather came from the island of Ham Lai.”
Bang!
Thanaphan Chuboon, disciple of the protruding belly god
8 Jan 19
Source: https://www.gotoknow.org/posts/660519