Every family has a dish that defines their table. For us, it was always Ngoh Hiang. My mother made it for every celebration, every reunion, every occasion that mattered — and a few that didn't, simply because someone asked.

The filling was mixed by hand — always by hand — so she could feel when the texture was right. No machine, no guesswork. No five spice, no soy sauce, no sesame oil. Just the pure, clean flavour of her ingredients. A little salt. White pepper. Nothing more. That was her way.