She changed into clean and tidy loungewear, walked downstairs, and there was still a faint smell of alcohol in the living room. Two men lay across the sofas, covered with blankets, sleeping soundly.
She tiptoed into the dining room, and sure enough, her favorite porridge was already laid out.
Yam and red date porridge, a few small golden buns the size of fingers, assorted little side dishes. She took a deep breath, lured by the primal fragrance of the food, once again marveling at Nanny Collins's magic.
She usually prepares a variety of breakfasts too, Western, Chinese, and sometimes Cantonese dim sum with small steamers full of assorted snacks. But that's not the magic; the magic is how she seems to know exactly what your stomach needs.
Just like this morning, she'd thought how comforting it would be to drink a bowl of hot porridge, and now this tempting bowl was right there, steaming.
