At the Cantonese table in Chinatown, everything revolves around faan — white rice, the foundation of the meal — surrounded by sung, shared dishes placed in the center (steamed fish, roast meat, stir-fried vegetables) that everyone picks from with their chopsticks. A clear soup accompanies, tea flows throughout, and sometimes the meal ends with a tong sui, a liquid sweet. Nothing is served in individual portions: everyone eats together from the same dish.

The Cantonese signature is not a strong spice but a gesture: you place fine slivers of ginger and chopped scallion on the dish, then pour a ladle of smoking hot oil over them, which sizzles and releases their fragrance. With a splash of light soy sauce, this is the grammar of all Cantonese cooking.