It was six something on a dark and dreary January evening. I was cooking dinner. The phone rang. My chest seized, and my insides turned. Calls at this time of the night were never good.

It was Memory Care. The nurse didn’t mince words and simply said, “Ken’s tested positive for COVID.” My heart sank. My father had avoided contracting the virus for three years. She went on, “But, he’s doing really well.” 

Thankfully, a reprieve. 

Still, I knew this could be the beginning of the end. Normally, a glass-half-full person, I couldn’t help but feel the gloom of what was to come. I desperately needed a distraction. 

It came to me one morning as I was perusing the internet for a recipe for Dan Dan Noodles. Instead, I found myself reading article after article about the Chinese Lunar New Year. I was drawn in by delightful pictures of streets lit by glowing red lanterns and crowds full of smiling people in celebration of the Spring Festival. Snippets of fireworks that lit the sky in sparkly wonder as costumed performers danced through the streets intrigued me even more. 

And there was food. Wonderful, heavenly, scrumptious dishes of beautiful food. 

That’s when inspiration hit: I was going to cook my way through this dark and dreary time!