Though it may sound surprising, I’ve never experienced the stereotypical American Thanksgiving. Instead, my Thanksgiving table features barbecue pork rather than turkey, steamed rice rather than mashed potatoes and tiramisu rather than pumpkin pie.

For as long as I can remember, my family has always been invited to or has hosted a big Chinese party for Thanksgiving, a night filled with strangers who are either my parents’ friends, friends of their friends.  

Guests file in at around 6 p.m., bringing all sorts of Asian foods such as stuffed pork buns, fried noodles, dumplings, tofu and various mixed vegetables and meats. People scatter around the house and converse with others as they eat, while the children grab heaping plates of food and migrate upstairs, away from the adults.

After dinner, the real party starts. First comes the karaoke machine, when most people sit around the sofas, listening and waiting for their turn to grab the mic. The adults are so determined to receive high scores from the karaoke machine that they dance around the kitchen, gesturing wildly to the tunes of classic Chinese instruments  such as the erhu.

Next come the opera singers, also known as my dad’s squad. They usually crowd around after the karaoke machine hype has died down, so that everyone can hear them belt out their tunes. While someone taps away on the piano keys, a deep, booming voice (most likely my dad’s) begins the first words of Pavarotti’s “Nessun Dorma.”

More people take turns singing by walking up to the piano by themselves or in duets; soon, a small crowd forms. It’s almost like a real opera performance, except in the comforts of a living room. Eager listeners always have their phones out videotaping and taking pictures like paparazzi.

While the mini concert is usually held in the living room, the loud banging and shouting of adults playing cards or mahjong, a Chinese game containing domino-like pieces, echos throughout the house.

As expected, the only seemingly quiet place is upstairs for the kids, where we “socialize” by holing up in someone’s room, either playing games on our phones or watching horror movies and TV shows together. Most of the time, these big Asian parties are reunions for us kids. Having met through our parents or at previous gatherings, it’s a time for everyone to catch up with each other.

All of these activities go on for hours and hours until around 2 a.m., when voices are finally getting hoarse. As soon as one family decides to leave, many more follow suit, finally bringing the party to a close.

Although my family's way of celebrating Thanksgiving is not the “American way” seen in movies or on TV, the holiday is still a day of laughter and full stomachs. And I always look forward to the nights of feasting on a variety of fusion dishes and laughing at  opera-singing dads.