Answer:
You'll see savory dishes in Hong Kong sizzling in these.
My thunder comes before the lightning. My lightning comes before the clouds. My rain dries all the land it touches.
People like this usually live in rural areas, unless they are lucky enough to strike oil and move to Beverly Hills.
Put into a pit, locked beneath a grate, guarded through the night, yet it still goes out.
What is the freedom of birds and the pen of old men?
What covers its face with its hands, speaks no language, yet most known what it's saying?