4as a large bowlful .
The fathers in my life have always been absent on Friday nights. My real father was a fiend for poker, and Po-fu, my adopted Chinese father, was addicted to a weekly shot of mah-jongg. The one advantage of their absence was an evening of special eating. In my American childhood I wolfed down enough potato chips and pretzels to last the week, secretly and under the covers. In Taiwan, I scampered off in full view and with full approval to enlist “take out” at our neighborhood Moslem restauran