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My family is obsessed with food. Details of Maman’s new life back in Cambodia are sketchy, but I know there are “mangoes everywhere”. Dad heads straight for the farmer’s market when he visits me in Edinburgh, eyeing the wild boar bacon greedily in spite of his perpetual diet. My sister Abang and I have made plans to roast a goose next time I visit her in Paris. Vivi, the little one, has gone AWOL since moving to Australia, but I suspect her love of kangaroos has more to do with their juiciness than their cuddly good looks.

I can not remember the last time we all sat in Maman’s kitchen, chatting and arguing, instead of being strewn across five countries on four different continents. But one thing is sure: we ate. And we ate well.

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