"A quiet, shared moment at the end of the day - something cozy and special, before everyone went to bed"
Huaiqi Gong- moved to the Netherlands from Hunan, China, in 2019. Like many who live far from home, she often finds herself missing the quiet, ordinary moments of family life -the ones that feel small at the time, but stay with you for years. One of those memories is her mother’s late-night noodle dish: simple, quick, always shared.
Cooking has become Qi’s way of recreating those moments. It’s not just about the taste or technique – it’s about what happens around the food. A bit of ginger, a handful of noodles, and suddenly she’s home again, even if only for a few minutes. Over time, her version of the dish has changed, just like she has. But the feeling it brings – of warmth, and closeness -remains the same.
Ioana: Can you tell me where you were born and when you moved here?
Qi: I was born in Hunan, China – it’s right in the middle of the country, the other side of the world from here. I moved to the Netherlands in 2019, at the end of August.
Ioana: And when did you learn to cook?
Qi: I think the first time I really proved to myself that I could cook was in 2016. I came to the Netherlands for the first time for an exchange program. Honestly, it felt very natural – I didn’t struggle much with the steps, just with time management at first.
When I was still living at home, I offered to help in the kitchen. I told my mom, “I’m going to university soon, I’ll need to cook for myself – you should teach me something.” And she just said, “Don’t worry, these are the kinds of things you’ll figure out when you have to.” She had so much confidence in me that she didn’t give me a tutorial or ask me to follow her like
Ioana: What dish are you going to make today?
Qi: It’s a very straightforward noodle dish – dried noodles, without soup. In my mind, this is my mom’s go-to dish for a very specific time: after dinner, before bedtime. Around 10 p.m., she would ask, “Is anyone hungry?” And she always made a big portion – definitely more than one person would eat – and we’d just share it.
At that time of night, you didn’t want something too greasy, and often there just wasn’t much food left from dinner. So we’d use whatever we had.
An now when I recreate it, I usually chopped some spring onion and ginger very finely. This is the time when I cut things small, because it really does help the flavors come through.
Ioana: So this dish reminds you of that period just before you left home?
Qi: Yes, exactly. It connects me to those last years at home, right before going to university. It wasn’t a big meal, but it held this sense of comfort. A quiet, shared moment at the end of the day – something cozy and special, before everyone went to bed.
Ioana: And is this the kind of dish you cook when you miss home?
Qi: Yes, because it’s fast. When I miss home, I want something that brings me back quickly. This dish does that – it takes just 20 minutes and I’m there!
Ioana: does it taste like your mom’s?
Qi: Not exactly; I won’t say it’s better, but it does taste like my own version. I still recognize the resemblance, but I also feel that over time I start to develop my own version. I have very much the urge to add more stuff in it.
Ioana: Did you ever cook for your parents?
Qi: I cooked for my mom once or twice. But even then, she couldn’t help herself – she thought I wasn’t fast enough and took over. So in the end, I probably only cooked one of the dishes, and she finished the rest.
Ioana: Do you find the food here in Netherlands tastes like home?
Qi: It’s getting better. When I first moved here, there were fewer options. Now it’s much easier to find familiar ingredients or dishes that come close. But still, nothing tastes quite like home.
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By the way, I put the chopsticks over the boiling pot of noodles, on purpose.
Ioana: What for?
Qi: The purpose is that if the water boils even harder, you will see a magic trick: the water does not spill over the pot! Oh no, It did!
