EILEEN AND FRED, ON A TRIP TO BALI.
Yin-Fei grew up in Sun Tak, a Cantonese agricultural area that was, and is, a shrine to cookery. The Chinese say that “if you are born in Sun Tak, you are born to cook.” And so she was. Because her family wished it so—“My mother said it would be easier to please a husband if I could cook”—she began cooking at the age of five, most often in the kitchen of her maternal grandmother, her “Ah Paw.” Ah Paw’s wealth and bound feet meant that she never went to market, or even ventured into a kitchen. However, her knowledge of food—its preparation and its place in the family and social structure—was enormous and compelling.
The belief in food as more than mere nourishment was reinforced by her number-six aunt, with whom Yin-Fei eventually went to live in Hong Kong after she fled China’s revolution as a twelve-year-old. It was in Hong Kong that Yin-Fei later added Eileen to her Chinese name, which translates as “Flying Swallow.”
Each of my wife’s ten cookbooks has centered upon a different aspect of Chinese cookery, always in a cultural context. Writers and critics have given Eileen such labels as “the Cantonese Julia Child,” “the Chinese Alice Waters,” “the Chinese Marcella Hazan” and “the Diva of Dim Sum.” I prefer that she be recognized for the unique person she is, a woman of great talent who has devoted her professional life to teaching, preaching and practicing what is proper, pure and traditional in the cuisine of her native land.
In her writing, teaching and television, radio and public appearances, reverence for things that grow is another recurring theme, as is the need to respect the essential nature of ingredients when cooking them.
Eileen has an inner strength that belies her diminutive size. Four-foot-nine-and-one-half inches in height (“Don’t forget the half inch,” she has warned me), she weighs in at less than one hundred pounds. I recall our daughter, Elena, once exhorting an unhappy college roommate to think more positively, saying, “Look at my mother. She doesn’t know she’s four-foot-nine.” And a half.
I discovered early in our relationship that Eileen cares deeply about the foods she cooks and serves. As she does so, she gives wholly of herself—she loves. Nor should this be construed as simple metaphor. To my wife, food is love, tangibly. For example, Elena, a television producer, might mention in a phone call that she is tired or fighting a cold. This information will occasion a day’s work in the kitchen for Eileen and a delivery to Elena’s apartment of soups, stews, bowls of noodles, slabs of turnip cake, the breaded cauliflower she likes. Why? “It will make her better.”
Our younger son, Stephen, a sports coach and executive, will visit our home after a practice to find a buffet of his favorites: spicy shredded beef with vegetables; roast Peking Duck with pancakes and muy choi deuk jee yuk, a chopped pork and preserved vegetable dish that he has enjoyed since before he could talk.
Our older son, Christopher, a teaching chef at the French Culinary Institute, brings over his creations from cooking school: pureed lentil soup, apple tart, a black currant sorbet in a port wine reduction. He smiles with pleasure, and relief, when Eileen pronounces his efforts edible.
After Eileen and I came to the United States and settled into our New York City apartment, my mother and father—in an effort to put their new daughter-in-law at ease—took us to their neighborhood Chinese restaurant. Despite food that, to be charitable, was neither Chinese nor good, it was a momentous night; my father mastered the skill of eating with chopsticks, even managing ice cream and fortune cookies with them. And only once after that did he ever forget himself and ask for bread and butter at a Chinese meal.
Eileen honored her new parents-in-law by asking my mother how to cook Italian dishes. In fact, my wife’s adaptation of my mother’s pasta, sausages and meatballs recipes was infinitely richer than the original—an observation I never made in my mother’s presence.
There is one particular dish that Eileen cooks often—actually, the first Chinese food she ever prepared for us in our new home—that I have come to regard as a continuing gift, an affirmation of us together. Here is her recipe.
Beef with Peppers and Black Beans
(SEE JIU CHAU NGAU)
MARINADE
1½ tablespoons oyster sauce
1½ teaspoons sesame oil
1 teaspoon ginger juice mixed with 2 teaspoons Shao-Hsing wine, or
sherry
1 teaspoon dark soy sauce
1½ teaspoons sugar
½ teaspoon salt
⅛ teaspoon white pepper
2 teaspoons cornstarch
1¼ pounds filet mignon, 1 inch thick, cut across the grain into 1-inch-wide by 2-inch-long slices
SAUCE
1 tablespoon oyster sauce
1½ teaspoons sesame oil
1½ teaspoons dark soy sauce
1½ teaspoons sugar
⅛ teaspoon white pepper
1 tablespoon cornstarch
¼ cup Chicken Stock (page 13)
PASTE
4 large cloves garlic, peeled and crushed
5 teaspoons fermented black beans, rinsed, drained
4 tablespoons peanut oil
1 slice ginger, ½ inch thick, peeled, lightly smashed
½ teaspoon salt
3 medium bell peppers, red, yellow, orange, or green, cut into 1-inch by
2-inch pieces
In a large bowl, mix marinade ingredients. Add beef, allow to rest at least 30 minutes. Reserve.
In a small bowl, mix sauce ingredients and reserve.
Mash garlic and black beans with handle of a cleaver and reserve.
Heat wok over high heat 30 seconds. Add 1½ tablespoons peanut oil, coat wok with spatula. When a wisp of white smoke appears, add ginger and salt, stir 40 seconds. Add peppers, stir together, cook for 1 minute. Turn off heat, transfer peppers to a bowl, reserve. Wipe off wok and spatula with paper towels.
Heat wok over high heat 30 seconds. Add remaining 2½ tablespoons peanut oil, coat wok with spatula. When a wisp of white smoke appears, add garlic-black bean paste, stir, cook until paste releases its fragrance, about 30 seconds. Add beef and marinade, spread in a thin layer. Cook for 1 to 2 minutes, tipping wok from side to side and turning beef once, to cook evenly. Add reserved peppers, stir-fry for 2 minutes. Make a well in the center of the mixture, stir sauce, pour in. Stir and cook, until sauce thickens and browns, 1 to 2 minutes. Transfer to a heated dish and serve immediately with cooked rice.
THIS DISH IS MEANT TO SERVE 6. IT RARELY DOES.
We have come to call this, in our family shorthand, Pepper Steak. Does it possess all the significance with which I invest it? I think it does.
All of our children ate Eileen’s food from about six months of age—soft potatoes with a soupy meat-based sauce; steamed fish and rice; traditional rice congees. Never did she consider giving them prepared baby food—not even when I suggested that making it was an awful lot of trouble.
“For who?” she asked.
And there was the time I came home from work to find our apartment smelling as if it had been the venue for an all-day pot party. Not so. Eileen had smoked a duck in green tea. I told her she was lucky nobody called the police.
“They would have liked the duck,” she suggested.
When I began writing in earnest about food and its traditions, first for the New York Times, later for Gourmet and other magazines, Eileen was my inspiration, my critic and my ultimate judge. Had I shown proper respect for the food and cooking about which I was writing? Had I written with precision? Had I tried to use fluid writing as a substitute for reporting and research? Had what I had written sounded like my voice? Her ear is perfect.
“Be sure to tell them that the roast chicken was deep-fried, not roasted,” she cautioned, when I wrote of one Chinese meal we had eaten. “Get the spices right,” she warned me. “I can’t tell you how often tarragon is used but not mentioned by food critics.”
For more than a quarter of a century, Eileen and I have had a Christmas Day feast
—dining room table laden with Chinese food and accompanied by Champagne, only Champagne, which complements a range of her dishes beautifully. Eileen is the chef, I the sous chef, and we spend two weeks preparing pork, shrimp and vegetable dumplings; a tart Tianjin bok choy salad; broiled chunks of curried, honey-sweetened beef; cabbage and Thai chiles tossed in vinegar; shredded chicken in a sesame sauce; noodles with a crushed-peanut sauce clinging to them; stir-fried vegetables; rice; and a huge roasted fresh ham basted with soy sauce. The party is our Christmas gift to family and friends.
Over the years, I have suggested that Eileen was working too hard, preparing too many dishes. “This is for our friends,” she would respond. “People we like. People we love.”
End of argument.
—Fred Ferretti
INDEX
A
Ah Paw
B
bacon
Boiled Pork
Bok Choy with Chinese Bacon
Five-Spice Kau Yuk
Stir-Fried Glutinous Rice
Taro Root Pancakes
see also pork
Baked Grass Carp
bamboo shoots
“The Banquet of the Nuns,” 153-68
Barbecued Pork
Barbecued Pork Ribs
bean curd
red wet preserved
Salted Pork with Silken Bean Curd
Steamed Black Mushrooms Braised with Bean Curd and Tianjin Bok Choy
Stuffed Bean Curd
beans
Chicken Braised with Black Beans
Chicken with Hot Bean Sauce
red
Red Bean Soup
soy
see also black beans, fermented
bean sauce
hot
see also sauces
bean sprouts
Chives Stir-Fried with Bean Sprouts (“ten vegetables”)
bean threads
Beef with Peppers and Black Beans
bell peppers
Beef with Peppers and Black Beans
Lantern Peppers Stir-Fried with Pork
Pepper Siu Mai
bitter melon
Stuffed Bitter Melon
black beans, fermented
Beef with Peppers and Black Beans
Clams with Black Beans
Romaine Lettuce with Black Beans
blanching
technique
“let the water out,” 30
in oil
Boiled Noodles in Sesame Sauce
Boiled Pork
bok choy
Bok Choy and Shredded Chicken Soup
Bok Choy with Chinese Bacon
Salted Pork and Tianjin Bok Choy Soup
Steamed Black Mushrooms Braised with Bean Curd and Tianjin Bok Choy
Tianjin
Bok Choy and Shredded Chicken Soup
Bok Choy with Chinese Bacon
boxthorn seeds
Boy’s Birth Vinegar
broccoli, Chinese
Broccoli Stir-Fried with Lop Cheung
Broccoli Stir-Fried with Lop Cheung
Buddha’s Delight
buns
Dough for Steamed Buns
Steamed Pork Buns
Steamed Sausage Buns
C
cakes
moon
Pan-Fried Turnip Cake
rice, steamed
steamed, spongy
Taro Root Cake
Turnip Cake
Water Chestnut Cake
cashew nuts
chicken
Bok Choy and Shredded Chicken Soup
Chicken Braised with Black Beans
Chicken Pancakes
Chicken Pancakes Stir-Fried with Long Beans
Chicken Stock
Chicken with Hot Bean Sauce
Dragon and Phoenix Soup
Grandmother’s Birthday Chicken
Guangfu Chicken
Hot Pot
My Aunt’s Lemon Chicken
Salt-Baked Chicken
Steamed Black Mushrooms and Chicken Ding
White Cut Chicken
Chicken Braised with Black Beans
Chicken Pancakes Chicken Pancakes Stir-Fried with Long Beans
Chicken Stock
Chicken with Hot Bean Sauce
chiles
Chinese black mushrooms. see mushrooms
Chinkiang vinegar
chives, Chinese
Chives Stir-Fried with Bean Sprouts (“ten vegetables”)
Chives with Salted Pork
unholy nature of
Chives Stir-Fried with Bean Sprouts (“ten vegetables”)
Chives with Salted Pork
choi sum
Stir-Fried Choi Sum
clams
Clams Steamed with Ginger and Scallions
Clams with Black Beans
Clams Steamed with Ginger and Scallions
Clams with Black Beans
cleavers
congee
Congee
Congee with Fish
Preserved Egg and Pork Congee
Congee with Fish
Cook-and-Sell Dumplings
coriander
corn
Stir-Fried Corn
D
dates
preserved
red
sweet
“deep-fried devil,” 58
dim sum
tradition of
see also dumplings
ding
Dough for Steamed Buns
Dragon and Phoenix Soup
Dragon Tongue Fish
duck
Lo Soi Duck
Roast Duck
Roast Duck Ding
Roast Duck with Snow Peas
dumplings
Cook-and-Sell Dumplings
flour
Water Dumplings
E
eggplant
Steamed Eggplant
egg(s)
Boy’s Birth Vinegar
Preserved Egg and Pork Congee
preserved (thousand-year-old eggs)
Vegetarian Eggs
eight-star anise
F
feasts and festivals
for Ah Gung, in memory of
Ah Paw’s birthday
Autumn Moon (Jung Chau Chit)
for births
for child’s first month, commemorating
Confucius’s birthday
Festival of Ching Ming
for Kwan Yin, in honor of
Lantern Festival(see also “The Banquet of the Nuns”)
Tuen Ng (Festival of the Dragon Boats)
for weddings
Winter Solstice
see also Lunar New Year feasts
fillings
Shrimp Filling
Stuffed Bean Curd
Stuffed Bitter Melon
Stuffed Mushrooms
fish
Baked Grass Carp
Congee with Fish
Dragon Tongue Fish
Fish Alive
Fish and Lettuce Soup
Grass Carp with Fresh Tomatoes
Hot Pot
preparation of
shellfish, vegetarian nature of
Steamed Fish
see also shellfish, vegetarian; specific shellfish
Fish Alive
Fish and Lettuce Soup
Five-Spice Kau Yuk
five-spice seasoning
flours
Fried Oysters
Fried Rice with Sausages and Shrimp
Fried Rice Yangzhou Style
fruits. see specific fruits
G
ginger
Boy’s Birth Vinegar
Clams Steamed with Ginger and Scallions
Lobster Steamed with Ginger
Mussels with Ginger and Scallions
Noodles with Young Ginger
ginger juice
Ginger Pickle
Gingko Nuts Stir-Fried with Snow Pe
as
glutinous rice
glutinous rice powder
Grandmother’s Birthday Chicken
grass carp see also fish
Grass Carp with Fresh Tomatoes
green beans. see long beans
Guangfu Chicken
H
hoisin sauce
Hot Pot
J
jicama
K
ketchup
kitchen
cleanliness in
conduct in
equipment and techniques, then and now
L
ladles and spatulas
Lantern Peppers Stir-Fried with Pork
lemon
Lemon Rice Noodles
My Aunt’s Lemon Chicken
Lemon Rice Noodles
lettuce
Fish and Lettuce Soup
as healthy vegetable
Romaine Lettuce with Black Beans
Lima Bean Soup with Sour Mustard Pickle
lobster
Dragon and Phoenix Soup
Lobster Steamed with Ginger
Wok-Baked Rice Wine Lobster
Lobster Steamed with Ginger
long beans
Chicken Pancakes Stir-Fried with Long Beans
Lo Soi Duck
lotus leaves
lotus root
Lotus Root Soup
Lotus Root Soup
lotus seed paste
Lunar New Year feasts Gau Dai Guai (nine-course meal of New Year’s Eve)
gifts of food
Hoi Lin (day of prayer)
on New Year’s Day
My Grandmother's Chinese Kitchen Page 23
