Country

3/4 cup of sugar
3/4 cup of eggs

Blend well.
Ice cream cake has to be one of the finickiest pastries to accomplish. And my brother had volunteered to do five batches.

"You don't have to do this," I told him.
"It's okay, Van... I want you to rest, talk, sit still..." Country replied smoothly, his large hands deftly whisking in the dry flour.

Country Return Tran.
Country's first name raises eyebrows.
His middle name stops people in their tracks.

In 1983, after three years in the United States, my dad was ready to return to the country of his forefathers.
In 1983, the Vietnamese did not know if this newly adopted country would bear fruit in its promises of equal opportunity for all.
In 1983, my brother was born.

Born in the Year of the Pig, it was a running family joke that he was the biggest of the boys.
He is the slenderest.
And the most quiet.

Every year, I get to see my family for two weeks.
They take turns spoiling me.
Trips to the San Francisco Bay Area, seafood, hide-and-seek games with the nieces and nephews.

Visits to the relatives is a must.
It is part of Vietnamese traditional protocol.
Even if it means I only say four words and Mom carries the rest of the conversation.
Along with the visit is a small gift.
This year, it is home-made ice cream cake.

Country's name raises eyebrows.
His volunteering to make five batches during his week of vacation raised my spirits.

Anyone can say that the Tran family fumbles in their conversational skills.
Rare would anyone say that the Tran family's heart is small.

ps. Photo http://img.timeinc.net/recipes/i/recipes/ck/03/04/coconut-cake-ck-443483-l.jpg