In the book Fish Cheeks by Amy Tam what was served for Christmas dinner?

On Christmas Eve I saw that my mother had outdone herself in creating a strange menu.

She was pulling black veins out of the backs of fleshy prawns. The kitchen was littered with

appalling mounds of raw food: A slimy rock cod with bulging eyes that pleaded not to be

thrown into a pan of hot oil. Tofu, which looked like stacked wedges of rubbery white sponges.

A bowl soaking dried fungus back to life. A plate of squid, their backs crisscrossed with knife

markings so they resembled bicycle tires.