Soy Sauce

Grandma ruled as a dictator despite the two managers and head chef. She had a comment and an instruction for every employee in the restaurant from how to chop the green onions to how to greet the customers. One of my prep jobs was to make new soy sauce. This task was laden with responsibility and stress. I was to take the plastic pitcher, fill it half way with concentrated soy sauce and top it off with fish stock. There was an elaborate procedure that followed my mixing where Grandma would seize the right-sized ladle, swish the concoction around and taste. If it was too strong she would yell “eww! tastes like medicine, I no likey.” The first month this ceremony was agonizing and my stomach would cramp as I waited for the official word on whether my soy sauce was worthy. Finally I remembered that in drawing class we measured proportions with our fingers. Once I started measuring proportions of soy sauce to fish stock, Grandma pronounced me the best soy sauce maker in the house. She would say “ You makey soo good” and flatter me into making more every time the pitcher was empty.