Last week while eating out with a group of Bob's work friends, the subject of Christmas traditions came up. No one seemed to be a regular church goer, but as the question rounded the table each person had a personal Christmas story to tell.

Chris, "My mother is a terrible cook and always resented being stuck in the kitchen all day making Christmas dinner.  One year my middle sister and I took over the stove, forced my mother out, and divvied up the cooking chores. That night, for the first time, our family sat down to  a pleasant—no pans thrown, no yelling—edible meal. She (my mother) has never gone back in."

Clementine, "I'm from Jamaica, and every Christmas Eve after midnight mass, we stay up all night drinking sorrel and baking Christmas bread."

Audra, "I grew up in a low-country Georgia Gullah community, where every house on the block belongs to a family member—a family member who is a great cook.  So Christmas day is a huge block party with okra soup, fried turkey, oyster pilau, hoppin' John, and sweet potato pie."

Fortunately, Bob and I were sitting at the end of the queue. The wheels in my brain whirred as I tried to spin a Hallmark moment. I haven't spent Christmas with my kids since they were little, I usually worked during Christmas, Bob and I have moved regularly and never put down deep community roots, and we've spent the last two holidays in a hotel room...but there had to be something.

There was that first year in LA when we took boloney sandwiches, Hershey bars, and boxed wine to the beach; or what about that winter in San Diego with our Cuban renter and his mother; oh and that year with the Fostermiglias when Gretchen fell down the front steps, yes and don't forget that freezing trip from Olympia to Bellingham on Tommy's boat, drinking schnapps to stay warm.

Inevitably, it was our turn...all eyes were on Bob.  "Chinese food", he said. "We try to eat Chinese food." I was surprised but managed to blurt out, "You can usually find an open Chinese restaurant or throw together some fried rice."

There was a pause in the glow of the moment, but the next storyteller picked it right up and shared a tradition complete with roasting chestnuts, caroling, and trimming the tree.

Chinese food on Christmas Day may never merit a card or a song, but believe it or not—it is a tradition. Just Google "Christmas Chinese food" and you'll see. Anyways, now that we had an official Christmas tradition, we were determined to follow through, so this Christmas night, we walked down the street to The Canton. I was prepared for that most dismal of restaurant experiences—eating Christmas dinner in an empty room and, sure enough, when we arrived at 5:00 pm, there was only one other table occupied, but Whoa Nelly! Within fifteen minutes, the place was packed with Blended Families, Romantic Couple, the Young and the Hip, Older Kids with Gramma and Grampa In Tow, Foreign Couple, Quietly Arguing Couple, Distracted Couple with Annoying Child, and a line out the door.

We ate our now traditional pot stickers and fried rice, took enough back for the next night's dinner, and called it good—another slightly nicked penny in the memory bank.

I worked at Tom Douglas' original Dahlia Lounge when it opened—fried rice was on the first menu. Leftover vegetables were never used but hey, we're home now. Here's a vague approximation of the Dahlia's fried rice. In my kitchen, it has morphed over the years to include anything that is in the frig: shrimp, pork, chicken, tofu, mushrooms (fresh or re-constituted dried), nappa cabbage, green cabbage, chard, spinach, lettuce, broccoli, carrots, sweet potatoes—and always frozen peas.

Not Very Authentic Fried Rice

• 1 cup frozen peas
• Vegetable oil
• 3 large eggs, lightly beaten
• Sesame oil
• 1/4 to 1/2 teaspoon dried chili flakes
• Garlic, finely chopped, amount per preferance
• Fresh ginger, peeled and finely chopped, amount per preference
• 1 onion, diced
• Mushrooms
• ½ pound cooked meat, cubed tofu, or tempeh
• Salt and pepper
• 3 scallions, sliced
• 2 cups raw vegetables—cut approximately to the same size
• 4 cups cold cooked white rice
• Flavor blend: 1 part soy sauce or oyster sauce, ½ part rice vinegar, sugar to taste, Chinese chili paste to taste (a little fish sauce wouldn't hurt)

Start out with a bigger pan than you think necessary. You’ll have less flotsam on the stove after you’re done. Cover frozen peas with cold water. When thawed, pour into seive.

Heat wok or a large heavy-bottomed nonstick skillet over medium-high heat. When hot add 1 swirl of the vegetable oil. Scramble eggs until slightly undercooked, remove from pan and set aside.

If you’re using raw meat or shrimp, now’s the time to sauté it—undercook a tad, please. Remove from pan and reserve.

Clean out pan and return to heat. Add 1 tablespoon vegetable oil and 1 tablespoon sesame oil, heat until oil shimmers. Add chili flakes, garlic, ginger, mushrooms, and diced onions. season with salt and pepper, and cook for 1 to 2 minutes until onion is fragrant.

Add raw vegetables: shredded head cabbage, julienned carrots, small broccoli florets, cauliflower, fennel, celery, etc. and sauté to coat with oil. Pour the vinegar/soy sauce mixture over vegetable and cook until your desired softness. If it's too dry, add a bit of water or stock. If you’re using leftover cooked vegetables, add just to heat. Add scallions and cooked meat or tofu to heat.

If you’re using nappa cabbage or spinach, wait until onion/garlic/ginger mixture is finished then fold in and remove from heat.

Now this is the part that would make Tom D. cringe: I just microwave the cooked rice (whether it be brown, Uncle Ben’s, jasmine, basmati, Korean, etc.), put it in a large bowl, add the scrambled eggs and fold in the vegetable mixture. Serve immdiately or make ahead and whack it in the mw.

This is a perfect vehicle for left over anything. You can have Cajun rice (andouille sausage, bell peppers,celery, onion,paprika/thyme/oregano/cayenne), Italian rice (tomatoes, eggplant, zucchini, roasted red pepper/pesto/parm), Spanish rice (chorizo, black beans, jalapenos,cumin, chile powder), Hawaiian rice (spam and macaroni). Add the eggs, leave out the eggs—who’ll care? Change the oil and the flavor blend to suit the ingredients—who’ll know?