I'm currently in London, my last stop in the UK before heading back to China. Yesterday evening, my mum and I joined some old family friends, the Ambers, for a proper Friday night Sabbath meal.

As we talked and ate and laughed and reminisced, I suddenly realised something rather wonderful: that our meal was a perfect composite of both Ashkenazi and Sephardi cuisines. Here were pickled cucumbers and chrain from the former; and here, olives, falafel and hummus from the latter. I mentioned this and the conversation turned to food - from Iraqi-Jewish recipes handed down to the Amber family from their paternal side, to the best place to get a salt-beef sandwich in North London - continuing in the same vein for many minutes.

And as I sat and listened to this stream of foodie talk, I thought: is it any wonder that I am who I am?