3 Chapter 3 Chinese Food

Chapter 3 Chinese Food The restaurant was crowded with people, but there was no food on the round tables, apart from a tiny steaming bowl of tea in front of each person. Stanley suddenly realized: Everyone had been waiting for him. There was a hush as the oldest-looking woman Stanley had ever seen—older, even, than Carlos's grandmother in Mexico—struggled to her feet at the other side of the room.

Yin whispered in Stanley's ear. "Great Grandmother Yin would like to wish you luck before you begin your training."

Stanley was about to walk over, but Yang stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. The ancient woman slowly straightened her back, raised her shaking hands from the back of a chair... and launched herself into the air. She flipped onto the nearest table, and then did handsprings from one table to another, all the way around the room. She failed to disturb a single cup of tea before landing right in front of Stanley and giving him a toothless smile.

Stanley was stunned. The old woman giggled, grabbed him by the sides of his stomach, and shook him. He couldn't help laughing as his head and feet swung back and forth through the air... and then, suddenly, his body made a low rhythmic sound as the air rushed around him. Stanley didn't know his body could do that! Yin and Yang and their family roared with laughter. Everybody waited to fill their plates until Yin and Yang's grandparents and great grandparents were served. Then, as all of the relatives chattered and slurped and ate, Stanley carefully adjusted his chopsticks and tried to pick up a piece of food.

Instead, one of the chopsticks tilted like a seesaw, and the piece landed in Yang's soup with a splash. Yang put down his own chopsticks. "It is time for Turnip Cake's first lesson," he announced. Yin nodded in agreement. "Let's start with an ancient feat of balance and skill!" Stanley leaned closer. "Holding—" "—A pencil," finished Yang. Stanley rolled his eyes. "I already know how to do that," he said, holding one of his chopsticks like a pencil and moving it up and down. "You are very skilled," teased Yang. "Now, do you see the cradle formed by your thumb and first finger?" asked Yin. "That is where the other, sleeping chopstick lies its head. Its leg rests on your fourth finger. Look, it does not move! It only sleeps." Stanley slipped the second chopstick into its cradle. Lifting his bowl, Stanley used the first chopstick to trap a piece of food against the one resting

below it. He carefully lifted the food to his mouth and dropped it in. It worked! Stanley immediately tried again. "Turnip Cake learns fast," Yang commented, as Stanley flung one thing after another into his mouth. Stanley tried lots of new things—rice with meat cooked in a leaf; spicy pork and vegetables; even turnip cake, which was surprisingly jiggly. But his favorite dish of all was a local specialty: biang biang noodles, which were almost as flat and wide as he was. As Yin and Yang's aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents, and great grandparents filed by his table to say good-bye, Stanley was so full, he