SEtalk: What My Grandmother's Kitchen Taught Me

This is my grandmother's wooden spoon.

這是我奶奶的木湯匙。

It's over sixty years old.

它已經有60多年的歷史了。

It's burned, it's cracked, and it's my most precious thing.

它燒焦了，也裂開了，卻是我最珍貴的寶貝。

Let me tell you why.

讓我告訴大家為什麼。

Five years ago, I moved abroad to study.

5年前，我出國留學。

The food was fine, but I missed home.

那裡的食物還不錯，但我很想家。

So I called my grandmother and asked for her recipes.

於是我打電話給奶奶，跟她要食譜。

"How much salt, Grandma?"

「奶奶，鹽要放多少？」

"Oh, just enough."

「哎呀，適量就好。」

"How long do I cook it?"

「要煮多久？」

"Until it smells right!"

「聞起來對了就好！」

Ugh, I was so frustrated!

唉，我真的快抓狂了！

That summer, I flew home and cooked with her every day.

那年夏天，我飛回家，每天都跟她一起做菜。

And slowly, I understood.

然後慢慢地，我懂了。

Her recipes weren't written in numbers.

她的食譜不是用數字寫成的。

They were written in her hands, her nose, her memory.

它們寫在她的雙手、她的鼻子、她的記憶裡。

I think culture works the same way.

我覺得文化也是這樣。

We think culture is festivals and famous buildings.

我們以為文化就是節慶和知名建築。

But most of it lives in small, everyday things.

但它大部分其實藏在日常的小事裡。

A song your mum sings while cleaning.

媽媽打掃時哼的一首歌。

A word only your family uses.

一個只有你們家才會用的詞。

The way your grandmother says, "Eat more!"

奶奶說「多吃一點！」時的那種語氣。

My grandmother passed away last winter.

奶奶去年冬天過世了。

But every time I cook her soup,

但每次我煮她的湯，

my kitchen smells exactly like hers.

我的廚房就會飄出跟她廚房一模一樣的味道。

And for a moment, she's with me again.

那一瞬間，她彷彿又回到我身邊。

So here's my small request.

所以，我有一個小小的請求。

This week, call the oldest person in your family.

這個禮拜，打通電話給你們家裡年紀最大的長輩吧。

Ask them to teach you one recipe.

請他們教你們做一道菜。

Don't write it down. Cook it together!

不要寫下來，一起動手做！

Because when we lose these things, we lose a part of who we are.

因為當我們失去這些東西，也就失去了自己的一部分。

Thank you.

謝謝大家。