Yi Dong -- or as he is known in China, Dong Yi -- one of our former homestay sons called Donna's Chinese dishes fake Chinese.
For Donna, who is widely recognized as a great cook and who has learned to make Korean dishes that taste Korean, Yi's pronouncements were puzzling as well as funny.
Now that we have been to China, we understand the distinction. Well, maybe it is more accurate to say distinctions, plural, because there are many ways that Donna's Chinese dishes are American rather than Chinese.
Anyone who has been to Chinese restaurants in America will know that there are several categories of food available, either identified by region (for example, Szechuan) or by the menu spice-meter (little red chili peppers beside the entry). In American-Chinese restaurants, generally, both geography and spicy-ness are factors that are multiplied and complicated in China, which is a huge country. Because it is huge, it has many regions and regions within regions; thus, it has many different foods and food styles that are all authentically "Chinese."
In order to get a real grip on how we understand this set of differences, we need to consider how American geography influences "American" food. Many of our food characteristics exist as remnants, no doubt, of our mostly European immigrant people groups. I am from meat and potatoes people who arrived from Scandinavia and Germany in the 19th Century to settle in the upper mid-west. My wife is, roughly, from English or Irish immigrants, the story depends on who is telling, who settled New England and made do with beans and franks (hot dogs) in addition to meat and potatoes.
Neither the Zollers nor the Deans moved far from these staple choices, all well within the bland range. The chief difference in our culinary heritages might include the occasional lobster (in her case) and sauerkraut (in mine).
Our trip to China was entirely in the south, near the coast -- Shenzhen, Guangzhou, and the Zhang family village all lying roughly within a short drive of salt water. Consequently, and not surprisingly, seafood is part of every meal, although little of it is spicy.
Every morning of our stay with Edward's family began with rice porridge, which is basically white rice soup. It tastes, basically and not surprisingly, just like boiled rice. It arrived at the table in a cooking pot covered with an interesting wooden top.
We might call this the base of the breakfast. It not only substantially fills you up, it also serves as your hot beverage, since you drink the juice (the soup). We showed our cultural awkwardness in that we were provided coffee and then, following our cold-sniffles, orange juice.
To the porridge one might add something to give it some specific flavor, since boiled rice isn't spicy. It fits well onto the bland end of the bland scale, too. These additional items are found in dishes placed on the lazy susan that one can pluck with chopsticks as needed. On the particular day shown in the photographs here, the additions include (left to right) ginger slices, garlic, "vegetables" (here, spinach), noodles with egg and sliced meat, and pork slices with bitter melon.
One might also have tofu, raw or cooked, boiled eggs (the Zhangs had their own chickens who produce pint-sized eggs), dumplings with meat or vegetable filling, and scrambled eggs with tomatoes. This is a partial list, of course, and breakfast in a restaurant is another matter altogether.
The breads that made their way onto the table by our second week were a concession to our American tastes, purchased specifically for us once Edward's mother discovered that Donna is a bread-eater the way some people are meat-eaters or potato eaters.
By the end of our stay, the only element of breakfast that proved challenging was the bitter melon, which does in fact have a bitter taste. I believe bitter melon is an acquired taste.
Now when we think of Yi's fake Chinese remarks it is with whole new appreciation. Adjusting to Chinese breakfast was a mutual task. In the end, both of Edward's Chinese mom and his American mom were happy.
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