My grandmother gave me these rice bowls which she bought on a trip to Chinatown in San Francisco years ago. I had always admired them sitting on her hutch, and when it was time for her to move, she insisted that I wrap them up in newspaper and take them home with me. Every time we order Chinese takeout, I want to pull them out of the china cabinet to dress up dinner in front of the TV, but I can never bring myself to do it. I think they’re only worthy of Egg Drop Soup a la Iron Chef.

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