From Scratch

Today was someone's birthday in the office.

You all know what that means: standing around uncomfortably and trying to chat over mid-afternoon cake.

Before the guest of honor even arrived we had already used up our easy chit-chat (how's work, how were your holidays, how about that rain). So, cake in hand, the conversation among this small group of people who have nothing in common naturally turned to ... cake.

Bigwig talked about a cake mix he usually gets from Costco where you only add water; however (climax to the story coming....) he bought a different brand this time. Upon getting home and reading the box he discovered you actually have to put in eggs and milk. And not only do you have to put them in, you have to whisk the eggs. So, he asked, what's the difference between that and making the cake from scratch? And then (punch line ... here it comes....) he told his kids "I made this cake from scratch!"

Everyone chuckled politely. I thought mistakenly this was a conversation I could actually participate in so I piped in about how there are so many things you can't find in China that there are expats put a lot of energy into making things from scratch. I very briefly mentioned David's cheesecake quest: how do you make cheesecake in a land with no graham crackers? No cream cheese? I'll give you a hint: you start with yoghurt, then make your own cream cheese.

I said that I make pumpkin pies every Thanksgiving, starting with an actual pumpkin. A whole, raw pumpkin. Silence followed. Then, aforementioned bigwig said, "You must have a lot of tiiime in China". Time was drawn out, slowly dribbling out of his mouth like something he didn't want inside him. His words carried a tinge of, not envy, but disdain.

Is having time a sin? Is having time a sign of laziness? Is baking bread from scratch, is chopping vegetables every day, is walking up six flights because there is no elevator, is sweeping because you don't have a vacuum cleaner, is all this somehow wrong? Or is enjoying it the part that's wrong?

It's Friday evening right now, as I type this, and I am home from work a bit early after a week where I have literally only been home in time to go to sleep, then get up before dawn and leave the house again. I'm making more money doing this than I ever did in China, but I haven't cooked a meal in weeks, I haven't managed to finish a book, I haven't gotten any exercise. But those silly things are only for people with tiiime. Not us civilized folks.

There are few things more alienating than coming home.