Letters from a Chinese American granddaughter
The first in a three-part series, by a girl caught between cultures and looking for answers.
By Sofia Yee (she/her), Special to shades Magazine
Everything started with apples.
A simple afternoon snack.
As I clumsily grasped the paring knife in one hand and fumbled with the apple peel in the other, I had the epiphany that college was only four years away.
That meant four years until adulthood, and four years until I would be on my own preparing fruit. I had the luxury of having a bowl of artfully arranged apple and orange slices delivered to my desk, courtesy of my mom and grandma. And yet I don’t know how to peel fruit or order at Chinese restaurants, and I had not become a prodigy at, well, anything. Absent genetics, my Chinese-ness was questioned every day.
Somehow, I felt simultaneously ordinary and out of place. The foods my family ate, our superstitions and our traditions weren’t really well explained. Those four years came and went, and now I’m going to college, ready to be subjected to my own hastily cut fruit. But before I go, this series is an ode to my grandparents and all the things I wish I could tell them. The things they have given and taught me for the past 18 years. Things that simple thank-you’s cannot capture. Selfishly, it’s a time capsule for myself.
Everything starts and ends with apples
Poh Poh (Grandma) likes to attribute her keen eyesight, quick wit and longevity to one thing: apples. At 88 years old, she still believes “Yāt yaht yāt goh ping guo im sai tai yīsāng” – “An apple a day keeps the doctor away” – is more than a phrase. It’s a lifestyle that involves the tedious process of selecting the right apple, peeling it, slicing it and boiling it for consumption. And I didn’t realize how important the first step – selecting the apple – was until I tagged along on Poh Poh’s Saturday grocery errands.
The grocery store is a feast for all of my senses. My eyes widen at colorful produce, while rich aromas waft to my nose. And sure, my brain is caught up in mental gymnastics, calculating the best deal.
Grocery shopping is even more memorable on Poh Poh’s Saturday morning visits to the Asian grocery store. The bell jingles as we enter. Immediately, loud Toisan (also known as Taishan or Hoisan) greetings in Poh Poh’s dialect ring out from behind cramped aisles, the hot wok station and the checkout counter. Inside, no one is a stranger. Everyone is family, connected by the same village in China 7,000 miles across the ocean. Strangers cultivated the same kinship and home in an aging strip mall.
I admire the found family within the walls of the Asian market because I am reminded of how lonely it must be to move to a country where no one speaks the same language as you. And yet, during weekly grocery errands, there’s the possibility of building a circle of neighbors and friends. For Poh Poh, that means she will always know people who have her back, and who give her a deal on the freshest produce.
One day, the apple selection had trickled down to a few bruised, small apples left on the display. Naturally, Poh Poh turned to Daniel, the nice produce stocker who always made sure to say hi, and asked if there were any apples left in the back. He responded, “Of course! Let me grab some for you,” and instantly, the apple shelf was restocked.
Apples are packed with antioxidants, fiber and vitamin C. According to Traditional Chinese Medicine and Poh Poh, apples stand out for being a neutral fruit, neither too hot (yang) or too cold (yin). But that day, I learned that apples are also tangible evidence of the deep sense of community flourishing within the small mom-and-pop grocery store. It’s this community that secures Poh Poh’s whole body health. While the apple may provide the physical ingredients, it is the community that brings the recipe together, giving Poh Poh something to look forward to each week.
Science backs this up. In the 1970s, researchers were studying the effects of a high-fat diet on rabbits, expecting both test groups to end with similarly negative outcomes. Surprisingly, one group had better health than before the experiment, thanks to extra-special care and attention from one of the researchers, who played with the rabbit and petted it. This phenomenon, coined “the rabbit effect“ by psychiatrist Dr. Kelli Harding, reveals that day-to-day kindness and connection is the No. 1 factor in determining positive health outcomes.
A few streets over from the Asian market is Bel Air, the much larger, chain grocery store I’ve gone to my whole life, growing up in the Sacramento area. There, I say hi to the produce and dairy stockers, peruse the Monday sale and check out with Tina, my favorite cashier. Certainly, Bel Air has more unfamiliar faces, but each is an opportunity to make a new acquaintance. It has become my little piece of community, too.
Bel Air and Poh Poh’s market are vastly different in size and offerings, yet both remain intimate microcosms of people, places and things I know, blended with new introductions every time. No wonder then that my soul feels nourished after every grocery trip.
Sofia Yee will begin her first year at Pomona College in California in fall 2026 majoring in English and Math. Connect with Sofia on LinkedIn.