COLUMNYES, CHEF Chinese American chef, author and TV presenter Ken Hom was raised in Chicago.
Photo courtesy of Ken Hom.
I pulled out two older cookbooks, both by the prolific Ken Hom, who
has penned over three dozen tomes about Asian/Chinese cooking. In
1987, he published Ken Hom’s East Meets West Cuisine; essentially a fusion
cookbook before the term had caught on nationally. East Meets West
applies French nouvelle techniques to Chinese classics, with resulting
dishes like Asian Pear Watercress Soup and Provençale Rice Noodles.
This book went to Leonard Shek, who was trained in New York restau-
rants and occasionally hosts a pop-up fried chicken stand, Gentry
Chicken, here in L.A.
In 1998, Hom wrote Travels with a Hot Wok, this time embracing fusion
cooking by name. While dishes weren’t repeated from East Meets West,
many of Hot Wok’s recipes felt similar in conception: Scallop Pancakes
with Chinese Greens, Asian-flavored Broiled Steak, etc. That book went
to food critic Christine Chiao, who’s written for KCET, L.A. Weekly, Eater
and others.
I took on last year’s Chinese Heritage Cooking From My American Kitchen
by Shirley Chung, the two-time Top Chef finalist. It isn’t a fusion cook-
book—Chung never uses the term—but it does include fusion-style
dishes such as Baby Arugula Salad with Black Vinegar Dressing and, most
famously, Cheeseburger Pot Stickers, which she debuted on Top Chef and
serves at her new Culver City restaurant, Ms. Chi Cafe.
Chiao, Shek and I all prepared dishes from our books, and then we
got together for a potluck and discussion. Coming into this experiment,
Chiao and Shek had been skeptical about fusion cuisine. Chiao felt that,
in the past, many dishes suffered from being “contrived in trying to
orchestrate hybrid flavors and textures that haven’t been tested through
time.” Shek’s misgivings were more around chefs he felt were either
“appropriating” or “selling out” Asian cuisine “for a white audience,” but
admitted that, these days, “our generation has come to reclaim [fusion]
in our own way.”
The most fusion-y dish Shek made from Hom’s East Meets West was
Scallion-Corn Soufflé. The soft egg in the soufflé, served with an accom-
panying tomato-ginger relish, was reminiscent of that Chinese American
staple: scrambled egg with tomatoes. Hom doesn’t mention this con-
nection. Perhaps it’s a coincidence, but being reminded of such a homey
stir-fry within a technique-forward soufflé was playful and enjoyable. It’s
probably not a dish I’d ever order in a restaurant, but that has more to do
with my general disinterest in soufflés.
Chiao and I made similar dishes: Hom’s Braised East-West Oxtail
Stew and Chung’s Rice Wine-Braised Lamb Shanks, respectively. In both
cases, the fusion element came in the base ingredients. For Hom’s oxtail,
he combined soy sauce, mirin and hoisin sauce (East) with tomatoes and
orange zest ( West). Likewise, for Chung’s lamb shanks, she paired a clas-
sic Italian soffritto—celery, carrot and onion—with equivalent Chinese
aromatics—ginger, scallion and star anise. Both braises ended up tender
and tasty, with a deep, umami goodness that subtly recalled Italian and
Chinese dishes without being too on-the-nose.were an attempt at taking something with roots in Chinese cuisine and
transforming them for local palates and supply chains.
Much the same might be said of today’s pad thai, General Tso’s
chicken, California rolls and similar dishes that are ostensibly “Asian” in
origin but far more American in their development. This is why debates
around culinary authenticity ring so hollow. Few dishes have some kind
of “pure” origin, untouched by the global movement of people and their
food practices.
Fusion in food, including intentional “fusion food,” is neither an
inherent good nor bad. The cross-cultural mixing of ingredients and
techniques can create both delightful surprises and utter fails. To probe
where that line gets crossed, I decided to invite a few friends to join me in
an experiment.