“You don’t want to try it my way?” Bennett asks with a look of surprise. “I know my recipe works. This other recipe doesn’t even have the salted duck egg yolks in it.”
I don’t want to try anything his way, dating app or otherwise. “It’s out of our control. We paid money to be here, to make the mooncakes the cooking school’s way,” I say, pushing back. “If they’re not as good as yours, then you can gloat all you want.”
Bennett’s jaw clenches, but after a moment, he slides his phone into his pocket. “Sure. We’ll do it your way,” he says, a hint of annoyance detectable in his voice. At least he’s finally agreed. “How about we get started and see where it goes?”
“Let’s try to get through the steps without it being too weird,” I say, secretly pleased. I should not feel this satisfied at unnerving him. “This recipe says we should start with the syrup, but that’s already been done. So we should do the dough.”
“I think we should start with the filling,” Bennett counters. “It looks like the teacher already started boiling the presoaked lotus seeds so we can finish that up.”
Oh for Cupid’s sake! We’re not even five minutes in, and we’re already going head-to-head. I wrap an apron around my waist. “Like I said, we should follow the steps. They’re written in this order for a reason.”
“Recipe instructions are meant to be reinterpreted,” he says, hooking his apron around his neck.
I sense a theme. “How about this? You do that while I get the dough going.”
“You don’t want to follow the recipe together?” he asks. “Isn’t that the point of a date? Doing things together?”
I reach for a towel, cringing slightly at his use of the word date. “Right, but it’s not as efficient. We can get a couple steps done at once if we divide and cook.”
“Here.” Bennett brings the food processor over from a shelf and plugs it in. He checks the simmering lotus seeds and drains the liquid, adding them to the food processor. As they whirl together, a smooth, thick mixture forms. Bennett looks as though he’s memorizing every texture and scent. He scoops the mixture into a pan and sets the heat to medium low. “See? Now that’s done! We can follow the rest of the steps together.”
“Great,” I murmur.
“Did you know that, years ago, people were worried there’d be a ‘mooncake bubble’ in China?” Bennett says as he mixes the puree with a spatula, filling the tense silence between us. “Luxury mooncakes took over the market and were selling for upwards of ten times as much as a traditional mooncake.”
I grab a silver bowl from one of the nearest stands. “Why do people feel the need to change a good thing? There’s nothing wrong with tradition.”
“It’s not about wrong or right. Sometimes people like trying new things,” Bennett offers.
I try not to let irritation show on my face. There are more important topics at hand, like extracting important intel.
“Is the Chinese zodiac your life’s passion or are you just in it for a quick buck?” I blurt out.
Bennett scrunches his nose. “Is that a joke?”
“Let me rephrase: Where did you take, I mean, get your idea from? And don’t give me the canned response that I’m sure you’re giving reporters.” This response I already know from the press release. I started ZodiaCupid to help give people a shot at love based on who they really are. On our app, there’s no need to pretend or perform. All you have to do is be you.
“What I say isn’t canned,” he says with his eyebrows scrunched. “I wanted to make something special and specific in the dating app market. I like our concept. It’s fun.”
“Fun,” I echo. I think back to the days when the Chinese zodiac was so new to me that it did feel fun. Mysterious. Rooted in practicality. The magic’s still there, but it’s mostly become business. I add syrup, lye water, and oil to the flour and fold the ingredients together with a spatula. “Have you always been into the zodiac or is it a recently acquired interest?”
Surprisingly, Bennett looks unfazed by my line of questioning. He focuses in on my eyes and deadpans, “I’ve just been learning about it through Wikipedia. Really good stuff on there.”
Against my better judgment, a laugh slips out. I can’t be laughing at my enemy’s jokes. It’s a sign of weakness.
He laughs and shakes his head, a strand of hair falling across his forehead. “If you’re wondering if I grew up learning about the zodiac, no. I learned it on my own. My mom was into the zodiac, but—no, I didn’t,” he says, cutting himself off. He doesn’t elaborate. “I’ve studied the Chinese zodiac deeply, even though my app takes a looser approach.”
He’s bluffing.
“Go ahead, you can ask me anything,” he says as if reading my mind.
When I shake my head and stay silent, he asks, “Did you grow up learning about the zodiac?”
“Not really,” I lie. I’m glad Pó Po and Auntie aren’t here to witness my betrayal. I push harder into the dough to release some of my anxiety. Once the texture is smooth, I wrap the dough in plastic and place it in the fridge to cool.
“If you’re reimagining how the Chinese zodiac works and charging people for it, don’t you think you’re misleading people?” I add, rejoining Bennett at the stove.
“You think what I’m doing is cultural appropriation?” he asks, quickly glancing up at me.
I think for a moment. “Well, I don’t know. Not necessarily.”
“I have both Chinese and Irish heritage and have been interested in and studied the zodiac for a long time. It’s my culture, my family’s culture,” Bennett says, a hint of defensiveness poking through. “I don’t have to justify myself to anyone who thinks I’m not Chinese enough because they’re uncomfortable with me being mixed race.”
“No, I totally understand that,” I confess.
The thing is, I really do completely get it. I fully relate. With Chinese, Scottish, and Norwegian heritage, it wouldn’t be fair for me to think that. If I did, wouldn’t that mean I was doing the same? I’m working on modernizing Lunar Love, sure, but I’m trying to do it in a way that honors what Pó Po started.
“Our names don’t always represent all of who we are,” Bennett says, speaking toward the range. “I have an Irish last name, and I understand that might be confusing with what I do. But it doesn’t negate the fact that I’m Chinese, too. I know that my existence, what I look like, and my name sometimes mystify people.”