This article was submitted by Russell Chow, a first-year graduate student at Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore, Md., studying biomedical engineering. He is the grandson of Hoy Wong.
I went to China for the first time in 2012, when I was 13 years old. As a third-generation Asian American, the closest I had been to China previously was getting dim sum in the San Gabriel Valley. The most memorable part of that 2012 trip to China, besides the amazing sights, was the food. From my experience, cuisine characterizes a culture like nothing else.
Local foods exaggerate the personalities of each region within a country. For instance, we started the trip in Beijing, a dense urban city. Like most cities, there was a sprawling night market with vendors selling all sorts of interesting Chinese foods. Some memorable items include fried scorpion, grilled sheep (every part), multitudes of grilled seafood and shellfish, fried rice, chow mein, and sugared fruits. Of course, the food safety was questionable, thus leading my mom to only allow me to eat the sugared fruit unless I wanted a stomachache on our first night in China. Even though I could not try all of the foods, just the sights, smells and sounds enveloped me like a familiar friend though I was in an unfamiliar place.
The first, and as it turned out the best time, I have eaten stinky tofu, or chou doufu, was in Suzhou. I remember walking along the canals when a very distinct smell hit my nostrils. My cousins, sister, and I felt like we were assaulted by this mysterious smell. We asked our Po Po what it was, and she eagerly led us to the stinky tofu vendor. Being the adventurous one out of the grandkids, I held my nose and took a small bite. I will always remember how delicious the stinky tofu was. It had just the right amount of salt and crunch and even in the hot and humid streets of Suzhou, it was like a breath of fresh air. Trying this stinky tofu opened my eyes to a whole new world of food and taught me to not judge foods by their first appearance – or smell. Even now when I walk past the stinky tofu booth at the 626 night market back in Southern California, I can picture myself standing by the humid canals in China.
Visiting Xian was also a life-changing experience. The noodle pulling masters were truly a sight to behold. I was amazed at the speed and accuracy needed to properly shape these strands of noodles. And then to be able to consume the freshly made noodles was an experience in itself. Being able to watch your food be freshly prepared is rare, and I was grateful to be able to enjoy these thick chewy noodles sitting in chili and garlic oil. The making of the noodles generated a slapping noise like a rhythmic background beat my brain will always associate with the great taste of noodles.
Overall, my experience with food in China helped me to connect with my roots. As I walked along the thousand-year-old paths with food in my mouth, I felt connected to the landscape and the people around me. Even though we may not have been fluent in the same language and grew up in different cultures, Chinese cuisine was one thing we all shared. I will always be grateful for my Chinese ancestry and the opportunity to reconnect with my roots.
