Thanks to Deborah Schneider, who believed in this book from the moment she read it, and Wendy Lee, for her enthusiasm and sensitive edits, which helped create a better story. At HarperCollins, Betty Lew and Amanda Kain created a beautiful package. Thanks also to Cathy Gleason for her support, and Katie McGowan for helping Isabelle see the world.
In Beijing, thanks to Michael Wester and Jerry Chan at the
Beijinger
for taking a chance on an inexperienced writer. Lee Ambrozy, Jehanne de Biolley, Adam Pillsbury, and Judy Pillsbury shared their city with me and their enthusiasm was infectious. Joey Guo, Susu Luo, and Belle Zhao rescued me from countless linguistic mishaps. A chance remark from Evan Osnos inspired the title.
For their early advocacy and advice, thanks to Jonny Geller and Gerald Howard, as well as Andrew Dorward, Andrea Joyce, Susan Hans O’Connor, Amanda Patten, Sarah Schafer, and Lucia Watson, who provided invaluable editorial comments and friendship.
I am grateful to my parents Robert Mah and Adeline Yen Mah, who aren’t anything like Isabelle’s (okay, maybe just a little bit—but only the good parts).
Finally, thanks to my husband, Christopher Klein, for encouraging me throughout many discouraging moments, for accompanying me on all my eating adventures, for translating between Chinese and English despite the weird stares—and for bringing me to China.
FROM
ANN
MAH
AND
AVON A
READING GROUP GUIDE
FROM THE KITCHEN OF ANN MAH
SPICY “MAPO TOFU”
I feel a little guilty calling this mapo tofu, because it’s so far removed from its classic Sichuan roots—the meat (when I use it) is ground chicken or turkey breast, not pork, and the chili paste is Sriracha, not
dou ban jiang
(the famous, salty fermented soy bean sauce). I eat this when I’m feeling blue—after all, chilies raise endorphin levels! It’s good with a bowl of white rice, but I also like it ladled over a deep bowl of long noodles and hot broth.
SERVES TWO AS MAIN COURSE (WITH LEFTOVERS FOR LUNCH THE NEXT DAY)
1 lb. firm tofu, drained and cut into 1½ inch cubes
½ lb. ground chicken or turkey breast (optional)
2 teaspoons canola or olive oil
1½ inch piece of ginger root, peeled and finely minced
3 garlic cloves, peeled and finely minced
1½ cups water
1½ tablespoons light soy sauce
2 teaspoons Sriracha chili sauce
To thicken: 1 tablespoon cornstarch mixed with 2 tablespoons water
Meat marinade (if using meat):
1 tablespoon soy sauce
1 tablespoon rice wine (optional)
1 teaspoon sesame oil
If using the meat, put it in a bowl and add the marinade ingredients, mixing to stir.
Place a large skillet over medium heat and add 1 teaspoon of the oil when hot. If using the meat, add it to the pan, stirring and mashing it with a wooden spoon to break it up. When the meat is fully cooked, remove it to a clean bowl.
Add another teaspoon of oil to the hot pan, and then the garlic and ginger, stirring until fragrant, 20 to 30 seconds. Add the water, soy sauce, and chili paste; stir. Add the tofu and meat (if using). Bring the mixture to a boil, cover and lower heat until the mixture is at a very gentle simmer. Cook for 20 minutes.
Uncover, raise heat to medium, and add the cornstarch and water mixture. Stir until thickened. Taste and adjust seasonings, adding more soy sauce and chili paste, if necessary. Serve piping hot.
SPAGHETTI CARBONARA
With only six ingredients, I make this simple pasta when I don’t feel like cooking or grocery shopping (which is often).
SERVES FOUR
1 onion
3 to 4 strips bacon
2 cups white wine
1 egg, beaten
1 lb. linguine or thin spaghetti
¼ cup grated Parmagiano-Reggiano cheese, plus more for sprinkling
Fill a large pot with water for the pasta, cover, and place over a high heat to achieve a rolling boil. Peel the onion and finely chop it. Cut the bacon into small squares. Heat a large saucepan over medium flame and add the bacon, stirring until it starts to crisp. Add the onion and stir until it’s wilted, about 8 to 10 minutes. Add the wine to the onion-bacon mixture, bring to a boil, turn heat to medium-low and simmer about 5 to 7 minutes until all the alcohol has burned off and the liquid has reduced by half.
Meanwhile, start cooking the pasta, which should take about 8 minutes. When it’s done, drain it, reserving 1 cup or so of the pasta cooking water. Return the pasta to its pot and pour in the onion-bacon-wine mixture, tossing to coat. Add the beaten egg and continue tossing, adding dashes of the pasta cooking water so the mixture is smooth and supple. Add the Parmagiano-Reggiano cheese and season with salt and pepper. Taste it now! Adjust seasonings if necessary.
Serve immediately and enjoy with the remainder of the bottle of white wine.
SPICY SUMMER PEANUT SAUCE
I love this versatile peanut sauce, which I make during the summer. Drizzle it over shredded, poached chicken and finely julienned cucumbers for a refreshing salad. Or add cold noodles to the mix for a satisfying chilled dinner. If your sauce is too thick when you’re tossing it with the noodles, dashes of cold black tea will help loosen it up.
3 garlic cloves, peeled
1 cup cilantro, washed and dried (including stems)
2-inch piece fresh ginger, peeled and roughly chopped
½ cup smooth peanut butter
2 tablespoons soy sauce
2 tablespoons sesame oil
2 teaspoons Sriracha
Place all the ingredients in the bowl of a food processor or blender and process until the mixture is smooth. Taste and add more soy sauce or chili sauce if necessary.
SALT AND PEPPER SHRIMP SALAD
In the book, I imagine Isabelle’s mother making this shrimp salad, but in reality this is my dad’s dish. A creative cook, he’s been using this salt-pepper-sugar mixture since I was a kid (and probably before then). Over the years, the dish has evolved into a fresh, fusion salad that’s ideal as an easy and elegant first course.
1 lb. shrimp (about 12), peeled, cleaned, and patted dry
1 tablespoon minced garlic
¼ cup minced green onions
2 tablespoons pine nuts, lightly toasted
2 to 3 tablespoons dry cocktail sherry (pale)
2 tablespoons salt-sugar-pepper mixture (recipe follows)
2 tablespoons cornstarch
Olive oil for stir-frying
For the salad:
4 cups arugula or mixed salad greens, washed and spun dry
½ tablespoon balsamic vinegar
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
1 teaspoon sesame oil
Salt-sugar-pepper mixture:
2 tablespoons sugar
4 tablespoons salt
6 tablespoons ground black pepper
This is a master batch for your spice cabinet. You can increase the quantities to make more and store it in a bottle.
Toss arugula or salad greens with the vinegar and oils and distribute evenly to four salad plates.
Heat 1 tablespoon olive oil in a wok or sauté pan until smoking. Toss the shrimp with the salt-sugar-pepper mixture (about 2 tablespoons) and add at once to the hot pan.
As the prawns cook, sprinkle them with 1 tablespoon cornstarch. Add more oil if needed. Turn the shrimp and repeat with another 1 tablespoon of cornstarch; the cooking process only takes a few minutes.
When the shrimp have just turned pink, add the minced garlic and toss. Add the green onions and toss. Add just enough sherry to create a sauce that barely coats the prawns. Remove from heat. Add the pine nuts.
Distribute 3 prawns per salad plate. Serve immediately.
AN INTERVIEW WITH THE AUTHOR
Kitchen Chinese
is your first novel. What inspired you to write this book? How and when did you start writing it? How autobiographical is the story?
A month after I got married, my husband’s work moved us to Beijing. I found myself in a new city, unemployed (I had left my job in New York book publishing to move to China), attempting to build a new life armed only with the rudimentary Chinese that I’d learned in college. My first year in Beijing was the hardest as I struggled daily with identity issues—I thought of myself as American, but almost everyone else viewed me as Chinese.
Like Isabelle, I found my feet once I started working as the dining editor at a local English-language expat magazine. There, I met people who had chosen to live in Beijing—as opposed to the majority of expatriates, who had been assigned to the city—and their passion, not to mention their excellent Mandarin, helped demystify the city and ignite my own enthusiasm. Through the magazine, I also made local friends who gave me a window into the lives of Chinese twenty-somethings. And of course our daily staff lunches at local dive restaurants were the best introduction to Chinese cuisine that I could have hoped for. As I ate my way through China’s regional cuisines, and discovered a lot about the country along the way, the idea for this book began to germinate—though I knew it would have to be fiction because I wanted a spicy story!
When I started the book, I was working full-time and I would
snatch time to write during my lunch break, on weekends, and not-so-busy times at the magazine (I hope my former bosses aren’t reading this, but if they are—I’m sorry!). Aside from finding the time to write, the hardest part was simply continuing to work on the book, to keep going even though it had an audience of one: my husband. For a long time he was the only other person who knew about the book, but luckily he is very discreet—and extremely encouraging.
Obviously, Isabelle’s story was inspired by some of my experiences, but our stories are not identical. For one thing, we came to China under very different circumstances. For another, I was happily married while living in Beijing, while Isabelle must navigate the single scene—that was fun to write about, but I was quite content not to experience it firsthand! Isabelle’s family is actually a composite of many different families—some Chinese, some not. As it turns out, Asian parents don’t have the monopoly on guilt! Finally, Isabelle is much braver and less squeamish than I am—I would never even consider setting a toe into a Chinese public shower room, for example—and she navigates her adventures with a grace and openness that I admire. She is also much funnier than I am—and lucky enough to have a sister.
You lived in China for several years. Was living there what you expected? Were there things that surprised you about the country or the people?
Before I moved to Beijing, I had only been there once, for a weekend when I was eleven years old. I had a vague memory of vast avenues and fleets of bicycles, and I had read lots of articles about the pollution. In other words, I had absolutely no idea what to expect.
My first, most visceral, surprise was how easily I could blend into a crowd, and how alienated this made me feel. Living in New York, I was used to being considered a minority, and it was
initially disconcerting to be surrounded by faces that so closely mirrored my own. But the longer I lived in Beijing, the more I began to realize that I wasn’t blending in at all—in fact, it was much the opposite. Whereas in the States we joke that all Asians look alike, in China, they think all Caucasians look alike—they have trouble distinguishing white people, but they’ll remember a Chinese face forever and I was recognized regularly!
I was also struck by how private Chinese people were, especially compared to Americans. Working as a journalist, I often encountered people who declined to be interviewed about topics as innocent as men’s handbags, or the city’s best Sichuan food. But the concept of privacy extended to friends as well—for example, I have gay friends who have never discussed their romantic lives with me. Also, I know at least three different people who got married in secret without telling anyone until weeks later.