My mother is a compulsive feeder.
That doesn't mean she eats compulsively--far from it, the woman weighs something like eighty pounds. No, she has this compulsive urge to feed everyone who comes into her household, or indeed, has ever been into her household. To support this compulsion, she also has a long memory for people she's fed, including their weight at last visit and what their dietary habits are. An example: my best friend from high school, Victor, recently made a visit for the holidays, after a good 6-year while he attended Georgetown and wandered the earth like Caine from Kung Fu. And she immediately pulled me aside and told me (in Vietnamese, so he wouldn't know her shame) that she didn't know if we had anything vegetarian for Victor to eat--and he looked so skinny, he needed to eat more!
That's what I have to live with when I'm at home, too.
"Have you gotten a little fatter? Here, have some nice light foods."
"Oh, you're so skinny! Sit down, eat!"
It's enough to give a guy a complex, sometimes. It gets worse when the woman has more food than she knows what to do with, too. Anyone who has a fruit tree in their yard can sympathize with this: when that fruit tree is in season, you'd have to be a small family of baboons to be able to eat all of its fruit before they go bad. So, inevitably, you start giving fruit away by the bag, the box, the armful, whatever you can.
"Hey, want some lemonade? Good, want to take some home? We've got gallons."
"An apple a day keeps the doctor away, you know. And you should be set for the next month, here, take some off the tree, too."
She has in the yard a persimmon tree, an apple tree, two grape vines, a lemon tree, and that's just to the side of the house. No time is safe to come over, really, something will always be in season and you'll leave with a bag full of it. God help you if you visit in persimmon season, she'll make sure you come out with at least five pounds in persimmons.
What does this have to do with anything? Well, the lunar new year (Tet, Chinese New Year, whatever you want to call it) rings in this weekend, and she's been giddy with preparation, since the new year means visiting old friends and giving them food.
So, for the past week and a half, my parents have been feverishly at work making traditional banh chung and banh gio, which isn't traditional for the new year, but is just more food for her to make, wrap in leaves, and give away to old friends.
This means that, a week before the new year, her house is already full to bursting with various rice/meat treats. And apparently, I'm half of her distribution network. Last week, I was enlisted to distribute some of her goodstuffs. So, even though it isn't Tet yet, I spent some time running around dropping off miscellaneous foodstuffs at the houses of relatives like I were some sort of Vietnamese Santa Claus, filling the doorstops of good aunts and uncles with pork-based pastries (note that pork-based pastries are often more welcomed than christmas presents among my family, especially if bacon is involved).
So if you see me on your door with a bag full of leaf-wrapped somethings, run. Trust me. It's better this way. The moment you accept food from my mother is like when you invite a vampire into your home, except with slightly more fruit.