It started maybe 5 or 6 years back. I was in Beijing for a prolonged visit (back when no one knew what the word “internship” meant), and it was a typical summer day: dry and unbearably hot. I had just been introduced to the concept of hotpot, and thought that it was one of the best ideas in the world. Imagine, getting a big pot and cooking all your favorite foods in it at once, what’s not to like? Problem was, nobody ate hotpot in the summer, along the same lines why most people don’t eat ice cream in a snowstorm. But not to be deterred, I suggested the absurd: “why don’t we have hotpot with the air conditioning on?” My grandpa chuckled, but then seemed to entertain the idea seriously. “You know, we should do it,” he concluded. And that’s how it started. Every summer since then, we’ve gathered around the dining room table, turned on the AC to max, and enjoyed our hotpot without a care in the world.

This summer was the first in many years I didn’t get to visit family in Beijing. However, I’m glad I had the opportunity to come back during winter break, because it gave me the chance to enjoy hotpot under normal circumstances with my grandparents. At the end of the day, I think it’s the small moments like this one that I will remember most vividly when I look back years later.