Culinary Delights from China and the Pleasure of Non-Traditional Preparation
Culinary Delights from China -Harold Isaacs, a political scientist, was intrigued to discover how the American public had formed opinions of China and India in the mid-fifties. To answer his question, Isaacs and his team of researchers interviewed a variety of U.S. citizens from different backgrounds. People rarely spoke of personal encounters since there was a lack of Chinese- and Indian-Americans in the U.S. due to immigration policies, and few people traveled to either country. Instead, the interviewees had created their views of Asia from media sources such as television, movies, comic books, and novels. One experience that seemed to be shared universally was the pleasure of eating Chinese food.
During the 1950s, Chinese cuisine was no longer perceived as barbaric, but had become a popular delicacy that seemed to bring a foreign culture closer. One interviewee expressed that those who created such food must have considerable qualities and a sophisticated civilization. Despite the popularity of Asian food, the profile of Asian chefs lacked detail for a number of years. It was not until 1982, when Martin Yan’s “Yan Can Cook” show first aired on PBS, that I personally saw the first Asian-American male on television. I recall pondering why, after so many hours of filming, he had not been able to amend his accent.
Culinary Delights from China
Approximately a decade ago, David Chang’s success with his Momofuku restaurants, along with his television and publishing accomplishments, gave him exceptional visibility. In the past few years, an enthusiastic fascination with all things Asian has given chefs Roy Choi, Dale Talde, and Danny Bowien the opportunity to turn their restaurants and cookbooks into vehicles of self-expression.
In her documentary, “Off the Menu,” Grace Lee inquired: “Can we gain a better understanding of a culture by consuming its food?” It appears that the answer is yes; the thought that we can bridge the gaps between us by consuming each other’s dishes supports an ever-widening outlook on American cuisine. But the question of whether we can actually achieve cultural comprehension through ingestion remains up for debate. And how does this apply when the culture is one’s own?
In December, PBS will broadcast “Off the Menu,” a show that follows Lee’s journey to discover stories of Asian-American culture. On her trip, she visits a Hawaiian organic farm, as well as the Sikh Temple of Wisconsin, which had experienced a fatal white supremacist attack on worshippers in 2012.
When Lee enters the business world, she is confronted by the difficulty of allowing her encounters to shape her story, since many immigrants prioritize survival over accuracy. A specific example of this is Glen Gondo, the Sushi King of Texas, whose food empire includes Japanese dishes and modified versions of other Asian cuisines.
At Gondo’s test kitchen, two Korean chefs blend ethical and culinary boundaries by sprinkling Flaming Hot Cheetos on their sushi rolls. Gary Chiu, the heir to a Texas tofu fortune, also struggles with this dilemma of authenticity, wondering if his chipotle-tofu egg rolls and tofu-stuffed green-chili tamales are traditional dishes or items he created to make money.
The ability to ponder this issue demonstrates a certain level of privilege–it is a type of philosophical question that can only come to the mind of those who can take a step back and look at where it began.
As the documentary develops, the thoughtful way that customs evolve turns into its most intriguing feature. Jonathan Wu, an attentive, meticulous chef who polished his technique at Per Se before opening Fung Tu in Manhattan, explains that his recipes start with “a flavor memory,” a feeling he attempts to replicate and transform into something strange and fresh.
Lee follows Wu as he visits his grandpa in Yonkers, a voyage he usually takes to seek out inspiration. Communication with his grandpa is minimal yet sincere, and the separation between them becomes an arena for fun, for imagining and fantasizing in the kitchen. Wu prepares his version of an egg roll, spiced with the unexpected tartness of chilies and olives, for his grandpa and his grandpa’s companion. They like it. Then they ask: What is this?
The past decade of celebrated chefs, including Wu, have indicated a shift away from the former depiction of Asian chefs as native informants. Irene Kuo’s 1977 book “The Key to Chinese Cooking” was one of the first major cookbooks that focused on Asian cuisine, and the preface highlighted the Chinese’s commitment to food. Since then, cookbooks have continued to provide information on regional differences and historicizing spice tolerance, often with a scholarly approach.
Peter Meehan’s work “101 Easy Asian Recipes” is a reflection of the more laid-back approach to cooking. As a food writer in collaboration with David Chang, Meehan explains the title of the book is intended as a joke. He and his team at Lucky Peach are aware that Asia is a large place and it is impossible to reduce its culinary culture to just 101 recipes. The book is still easy to use, and it contains a compilation of East Asian favorites. Although there are references to Chang and his chef friends, the book is still inviting and welcoming to all.
Videos taken from The New Yorker can be found online.
Goldie: A Life of Renown as a Nursing-Home Rocker
The narrative of Goldie, a nursing-home rock star, is an inspiring one. She is acclaimed for her music in long-term care facilities and has become an icon in the elderly community. Goldie’s story of attaining fame and respect among the elderly is an uplifting one.
The New Yorker has produced a documentary on Goldie, a nursing home rock star. The film follows the life of Goldie, and provides an up-close look at her unique life. It gives insight into her passion for music and her determination to stay active and involved in her community even as she grows older. It is a remarkable story of a person who continues to find joy in life and inspires others to do the same.
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Many people find it funny, and my personal favorite is the classic Chinese restaurant dessert “Oranges”. In addition to the traditional recipes, there are also some that might be more familiar to those who first experienced Asian cuisine as a combination of other types of food. The St. Paul Sandwich is a regional favorite, created out of necessity, which is essentially an egg foo young sandwich. Chinese Chicken Salad, as Meehan points out, is “as Asian as David Carradine”. Finally, Lucky Peach has a unique take on the popular mall food, Mall Chicken, which has a mysterious yet satisfying combination of both sweet and sour.
On the back of “101 Easy Asian Recipes” is a starburst that promotes the book as “100% Inauthentic!” This is a phrase that Dale Talde, the Brooklyn chef who first made a name for himself on “Top Chef,” is fond of.
Many restaurateurs emphasis the difficulty they had in establishing their kitchen, but Talde’s first cookbook “Asian-American: Proudly Inauthentic Recipes from the Philippines to Brooklyn” is not only an introduction to his two Brooklyn restaurants, the pan-Asian Talde and a neighborhood bar, Pork Slope, it is also a statement of immigrant identity.
While some may attempt to bring their diners to some unknown part of Asia, Talde’s food is meant to remind them that they are at home in the “strange and awesome country” they live in.
Talde, brought up in a Filipino household, found himself often disconnected from the other America. In his writing, he expresses his mother’s clandestine activity of bringing in food from her homeland, and a strange atmosphere that surrounded him and his Asian friends when they ate lunch in school. Much like Eddie Huang and Roy Choi–whose “L.A. Son” is an exemplar of this new breed of memoir-influenced cookbooks–Talde saw in the cutting-edge, rebellious attitude of hip-hop a way to fit in on his own terms. (It should be noted that the most well-known Asian-American chefs are generally men who chose cooking as a form of personal expression; it was not a role that their culture expected of them.)
Talde’s cuisine is focused on providing an enjoyable and fulfilling experience. At his restaurant, you can find combinations like bacon and fried oysters with pad thai, or roasted fish served in a banana leaf taco. One of the signature dishes at Pork Slope is a luxurious version of a McDonald’s cheeseburger. Talde himself admits that when he was growing up, he was enticed by the idea of eating “forbidden” foods that were seen as more American. His recipes reflect his attempts to make up for that time. He even supports the use of MSG.
The amazing potential of America can be seen in its receptiveness to the entrepreneurial spirit – like Talde’s creativity in crafting upscale versions of traditional recipes, reminiscent of his mother’s way of making use of a brick of Spam. This respect for the resourceful nature of immigrants keeps Talde from taking himself too seriously, a trait commonly seen in Asian chefs of his generation.
Unlike many cookbooks, the “Mission Chinese Food Cookbook” is more like a personalized zine. The protagonist is Danny Bowien, a Korean-American widely known for his San Francisco restaurant, Mission Chinese Food. He started it by running it within Lung Shan’s off-peak hours. Bowien’s fare isn’t strictly authentic; it’s ‘profane’ and amped up, crafted by ‘fans’ instead of experts and historians.
This year has seen me reading some strange books, yet one of the most emotionally engaging has been the “Mission Chinese Cookbook”. Of course, the recipes, like Bowien’s renowned kung pao pastrami, are straightforward, yet it is also a very personal narrative of the author being “a white kid in an Asian kid’s body”.
From South Korea, he was adopted into an Oklahoma family, so rarely was he able to truly consider his oriental roots. However, he was still a young child when he first started to perceive the stories food could tell, watching the Food Network and admiring Emeril Lagasse and Bobby Flay. His journey from small-town reveler to leading chef is captivating, with spur-of-the-moment decisions and reckless self-sabotage.
Bowien’s book has a unique structure, with Chris Ying intermittently appearing to ask questions and provide insight. Recipes are sprinkled throughout the text, providing a sense of grounding. One remarkable passage is an excerpt from a conversation between Bowien and celebrated chef Rene Repzedi, in which they discuss fatherhood and how it has changed their outlook. In a conversation between Ying and Sue and Liang Zhou from Lung Shan, they hope that Bowien’s food will help immigrants integrate into American culture.
Cookbooks offer us a glimmer of hope; they allow us to imagine what kind of person we may become (i.e. someone who cooks their own meals). Talde and Bowien’s books exemplify the idea of celebrating the unknown ingenuity of immigrants, and creating a “strange and awesome” America in their memory. Inauthenticity is a form of power, a demonstration of rejecting other people’s expectations and preferences.
The lengths that patrons will go to for a taste of their food, or the amount of time they will wait for a seat at the bar, may demonstrate a longing for something that is impossible to reclaim–such as the “flavor memory” of childhood, the joy of a crowded family dinner gathering, or a life-changing meal of food-court stir-fry.
It could even be about the connections evoked when hearing the squeak of a lazy Susan, or the sound of chopsticks being run beneath a faucet, and bringing to mind the explanation for why an extra refrigerator exists in the garage, containing all the ingredients that make one unique–and one day, exceptional.
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