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Light Will Find Its Way In

Tofu Skin in Mizuna Broth

  • Words & Photography / Jo

那是一環光圈,圓形中央是黑色的,外圍散發着微弱的光,像日全蝕。

我的記憶來得遲,孩提時代的事只遺下零星一二,前半生因為記憶被收藏得太好,忘了,沒了大半。後來生命的事兒都記着,大概是因為那圈光吧。好像自有意識地活着開始,合上眼便看見那光環。失眠從小陪伴,唯有「看」着那似乎不太遠的光,我才可以慢慢睡去。我們之間似是我和日、和月、和星、和雲、和大海以上的地平線的距離,看得見卻觸不到。那懸在漆黑太空的一環光,多少年來讓我至少可以稍稍歇息。

忘了從何時開始,那黑影沒了,留下一 團白光,合上眼便看到。那光是有生命的,光暈像呼吸一樣,一張一收,不徐不疾,很溫柔。我繼續看那光,暫時忘掉活着的事,慢慢睡去。

這些光好像自記憶之初便存在,我以為那是自然的事,像呼吸那樣理所當然。原來不是。

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有一晚,我平躺床上 ,合上眼準備看見熟悉的白光,一束金光卻由上而下如瀑布般傾瀉,從腦門一直往下瀉,至眼底盡頭。縱使沒法看見,但我知道金光繼續以比地心吸力還要大的力度往下流,而身體上下就像在冬日浸泡溫泉那樣溫暖。若果平常的白光像海旁每夜的燈光匯演,那夜金光就像在主題樂園城堡上空的煙火燦爛,叫眼睛沒法離開,但燃燒至盡頭也是短暫的歷程。大概幾分鐘後,漆黑中的金黃煙火逝去。我不理解那金光是甚麼,今天還是沒搞清楚。我只知道光從此沒有了,合上眼後的心神沒處安放,我又在失眠中流離浪蕩。

這幾年我嘗試理解光的事情,想找回那點光。

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某天午後,我在後山散步,在那個我最喜歡的彎路口佇足,陽光灑落在那群我說不出名字來的高幼樹木上,那種美不屬於這世界。看了一會後,我轉身繼續往山上走,原本照耀着樹林及我身後的陽光正正落我臉上,刺眼目眩,讓我停下來。光線穿過重重樹木,光之所及的土地和植物都蒙上一層虹光,光穿透了葉子上的小洞,光穿透了我。

它一直都在。在層層烏雲後、了無星月的黑夜裹或是在萬籟無聲的喧囂中,只要願意掀起凝固了的執着,光還是會找到路透進來。

那一刻我明白,若合上眼看不到光,便張開眼睛吧。

水菜清湯湯葉

材料:
高湯材料
水菜 40克
昆布鰹魚乾湯包 1 包(9克)
清水 2 杯
鹽 適量

湯葉材料
新鮮無糖濃厚豆乳 2 杯

步驟:

  1. 昆布鰹魚乾湯包放在水中煮沸,煮沸以中火煮 5 分鐘, 夾起湯包。
  2. 水菜洗淨瀝乾,切成1cm 長。
  3. 在湯裡加入水菜,湯沸後即關火。
  4. 酌量加鹽,保持味道清淡。 備用。
  5. 在另一個鍋內加入豆乳,以中小火煮沸。
  6. 煮沸後即調低火力。
  7. 以細密的網篩撇輕輕起面層的泡沫浮渣。
  8. 繼續以小火煮着豆乳,讓豆乳保持在不沸騰的狀態。
  9. 當湯葉(腐皮)在豆乳面層凝成,從鍋邊輕柔地插入一隻筷子,慢慢、小心地挑起湯葉。
  10. 將筷子上的湯葉滑入碗裏,重複上述步驟直至製成數片湯葉。
  11. 加一勺高湯入碗裏即可。
  12. 重覆步驟 9 至 11,直至用光材料,得湯 3 至 4 碗。
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It was a halo; black at the centre, while the rim was illuminated, just like a solar eclipse.

My early memory was distant; there is not much I can remember about my childhood. The memory of the first half of my life is mostly buried that no trace could be found. The reason why I started to remember the bits and pieces in life was because of that ring of light, I guess. I saw it when I closed my eyes since the day I lived with consciousness. Insomnia hasn’t been a stranger since I was a little girl, and only by “gazing” at the light, I could gradually fall asleep. The distance between the light and me was like that between me and the sun, the moon, clouds and the horizon above the sea – visible but not accessible. That halo hanging in the dark space was a pathway to my sleep and rest for many years.

The black shadow receded one day before I was aware of the change, leaving a round form of pure white light. I saw it whenever I closed my eyes. The light had life. Like how our chests move up and down when breathing, it radiated outwards and inwards gently at a comforting rhythm. Staring at the light, I forgot about living and slowly fell asleep.

Light of different forms had been there from the beginning of my memory, and so I thought it’s something as natural as breathing. It however wasn’t the case I later found out.

One night, when I lay in bed, prepared to see the light when I closed my eyes, a stream of golden beam poured like a waterfall, from my crown to the edge my sight could reach. I knew the golden beam kept running down beyond my seeing with a force larger than gravity, and I felt so warm as if I was bathing in an onsen in winter. If the white light on usual days was a light show by the harbourfront at night, the golden beam was the fireworks over a castle in the theme park; it was magnificent, glaring and short-lived. The golden beam vanished into the dark in a mere few minutes. I didn’t understand, and still don’t, what that was about. All I knew was that the light I used to see vanished altogether, leaving my mind wandering in insomnia.

I have tried to figure out what that was all about and retrieved the light.

I took a stroll in the woods behind my home one afternoon. At my favourite turn I stood. A shaft of sunlight cast over the tall and slender trees I couldn’t name, a picture of ethereal beauty. I turned around to continue my walk after spending some time appreciating the trees, the sunbeam that shone on the trees and my back then fell on my face, leaving me dazzled on the spot. The sunlight shone through the woods, and all lives and land embraced by the light were dusted with a light lustre of halo. The sunlight shone through the tiny holes on leaves and shone through me.

It’s always there – behind dark clouds, in the dark nights without the moon or stars, and in the quietness among loud disturbance. However, as long as we are willing to let go of what we persistently hold onto, the light will eventually find its way in.

I then understood that if the light isn’t there when eyes are closed, open your eyes.

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Tofu skin in mizuna broth

Ingredients
For broth
Mizuna 40g
Dashi packet 1 pack (9g)
Water 2 cups
Salt To taste

For tofu skin
Unsweetened, heavy fresh Japanese soy milk 2 cups

Steps:

  1. Put the dashi packet into a pot of water. Bring it to boil and let it simmer over medium heat for 5 minutes. Remove the dashi packet.
  1. Wash and drain the mizuna. Cut it into 1cm long.
  2. Add the vegetable to the dashi broth. Turn off the heat once it starts bubbling.
  3. Add salt to the broth sparingly to keep the soup light. Set aside.
  4. Add the soy milk into another pot. Bring it to boil over medium-low heat.
  5. When it starts bubbling, turn the heat further down.
  6. Use a fine-mesh strainer to gently scoop away the bubbles on the surface.
  7. Keep the liquid heated over low heat so that the soy milk is barely simmering.
  8. When you see there is a skin formed on the surface, gently slip a chopstick under the skin from the edge and slowly, carefully lift it up.
  9. Slip the tofu skin into a bowl, repeat the above step until you have a few pieces of tofu skin.
  10. Add a ladle of warm dashi broth into the bowl with tofu skin. Ready to serve.
  11. Repeat steps 9 to 11 until the soup and soy milk are used up, yielding 3 to 4 bowls of the soup.

Jo Liu

It’s raining outside, crisp and bleak. Three chubby sparrows took shelter on my balcony and I gave them the baguette bits left on my breakfast plate but they flew away. I stayed in, played Damien Rice on vinyl and made apple crumble. Repeat.

Instagram: foodialoguehk

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