The table was covered with seafood, chicken soup, and taro rice, an even bigger spread than at his own home. This was his first time eating taro rice that year.
No, counting his previous life, it had been decades.
In his previous life, he had only spent the three-month fishing moratorium at home, and he hadn't lived with his son and daughter-in-law. On his own, he would casually cook a pot of rice to last two days, blanch a bowl of seafood, and stir-fry a bowl of greens, keeping everything as simple as possible.
(During the fishing moratorium, the trawlers at their small local docks still went out as usual, and there were also catches from pot trap nets and Korean nets. The Fisheries Administration wasn't strict about enforcement. Only the big boats followed the regulations to the letter.)
Now that he finally had a chance to eat it, his appetite was excellent. The trip up the mountain had pretty much burned off that afternoon's bowl of noodles. Lin Mother packed the rice firmly into his bowl, and he didn't stand on ceremony.
Father Lin had quite a large family too. Although they had divided their households, his daughter and son-in-law had come to bring holiday gifts today, so of course the whole family would eat together.
They polished off an entire large pot of taro rice, each eating two or three firmly packed bowls. Even the ring of crispy rice crust at the bottom of the pot ended up in the children's hands, crunching fragrantly between their teeth.
It was such a rare treat. Lin Mother hadn't cooked it at all that year either. Usually, they ate shredded sweet potato congee three meals a day, the standard fare in every local household in those days. They only got to