道，在每日的碗筷之间
道，在每日的碗筷之间
Laifang on the Way · Lecture 3
The Way, Between Bowls and Chopsticks
民以食为天。
Food is heaven for the people.
食，不只是果腹之物，
它承载着情感、记忆、文化、信任与爱的流动。
Food is not only nourishment;
it carries emotion, memory, culture, trust, and the flow of love.
我常听父亲讲起一件事：
我的曾祖父在他八十岁寿辰那年，
总理亲自下厨，为他做了一道家乡菜——淮安狮子头。
I often hear my father tell this story:
When my great-grandfather turned eighty,
Premier Zhou personally entered the kitchen and cooked a dish from home—Huai’an-style lion’s head meatballs.
那不是一场政治宴请，
而是一顿至亲之宴，是深情无言的家人之道。
This was not a political banquet,
but a meal of kinship—a quiet expression of familial love.
总理不是以总理之尊，而是以一个晚辈的心，
一双手，一颗心，把“道”端上了桌。
He didn’t act as a premier that day, but as a nephew—
with his hands and his heart, he served the Way at the table.
炉火就是心火，汤水就是情水，
那一锅狮子头里，不只是味道，
是敬，是念，是不忘根本的中国人心。
The fire in the stove is the fire of the heart,
and the broth is the water of affection.
In that pot of lion’s head meatballs were not just flavors—
but respect, remembrance, and the soul of a people who never forget their roots.
我的父亲，也有一个习惯。
每到周末，他总会让平日操劳的母亲休息，
自己系上围裙，走进厨房，
仿佛在用另一种语言告诉我们：“爱，是行动。”
My father also had a tradition.
On weekends, he would let my mother rest from her daily cooking,
tie on his apron, and step into the kitchen—
as if to say in another language: “Love is action.”
他最拿手的菜，是米粉肉。
一层粉，一层肉，慢火蒸，慢心煨，
每一口都绵柔如云，却带着力量，
那是家的味道，是父爱的模样。
His specialty was steamed pork with rice flour.
Layer upon layer, slowly steamed, slowly tended.
Each bite was tender as a cloud, yet filled with strength—
the taste of home, the image of a father’s love.
小时候我最喜欢看着爸爸做饭。
厨房里香气四溢，我总是蹲在门口，
看着他切菜、调味、揭锅的动作，
动作娴熟、节奏稳重，带着一种沉静的专注。
As a child, I loved watching my father cook.
The kitchen filled with fragrant steam, and I would squat near the door,
watching him slice, season, and lift the lid—
his movements practiced, steady, and full of calm focus.
那香味，一直烙印在我的记忆深处，
成了我心中最安心的气味。
That aroma is forever etched in my memory,
the scent of safety and comfort.
我长大以后才明白，
那不仅是技艺，更是一种沉默的深情。
Only later did I realize—
it wasn’t just skill; it was a silent, enduring love.
道在哪里？
它不在经书里，不在讲坛上，
它就在厨房的蒸汽中，在洗菜声里，
在饭香四溢中滋养着一个家、一颗心、一代人。
Where is the Way?
Not only in scripture, nor upon grand stages—
but in the steam of the kitchen, the sound of rinsing vegetables,
in the aroma of food nourishing a home, a heart, and a generation.
当我们坐在饭桌旁，接过热腾腾的一碗饭，
其实我们也接过了长辈的心意，前人的愿望，和平的火种。
When we sit at the table and receive a warm bowl of rice,
we are also receiving our elders’ care, our ancestors’ wishes, and the quiet flame of peace.
那年总理为曾祖父下厨，
那年父亲为母亲做米粉肉，
这些都不是偶然。
这是中国人骨子里的**“道”——
不是说出来的，
而是做出来的、端出来的、传下去的。**
That year, the Premier cooked for my great-grandfather.
That year, my father cooked for my mother.
These were not coincidences.
This is the Chinese Way—
not spoken,
but lived, served, and passed on.
来芳曰｜Laifang’s Note
真正的道，不在远方，
而在灶上一锅汤，在你接过饭碗时那一刻的心安。
The true Way is not far away—
it lives in a pot on the stove, in the peace you feel when you receive a bowl of rice.
