When Pearl Chang and Wong Wan-Lee have dinner together in chapter 5, Pearl finds herself stunned that Wong Wan-Lee does not cook Chop Suey and Chow Mein. “Do you think that I am not good enough to be treated with your national dishes?” says Pearl (66). Quickly Wan-Lee implies they are American dishes, yet recognizes that this misconception can generate more business for Chinese-Americans when he brings Pearl the newspaper clipping that claims Chow Mein and Chop Suey received the “scientific O.K. as health food” (67). This is so striking especially considering the later hoax of the “Chinese-restaurant syndrome” where a 1968 letter that appeared in the New England Journal of Medicine claimed that Chinese food brought forth ailments (BBC).
There are some key differences between chow mein and chop suey, despite being commonly confused for the other. Chop suey is mainly a dish served over rice, using whatever is on hand in a stir-fry. While both are prominent in Chinese-American cuisine, chow mein is more easily traceable back to the “炒面” of Northern China. Chow mein is mentioned as early as 1920. What I found quite interesting is the regional US differences in chow mein where on the East Coast, chow mein is always the “crispy” or “Hong Kong-style” and on the West, it is always the steamed version and the crispy style is just coined the “Hong Kong-style.” Like other Chinese-American dishes, chow mein was often tailored to favor local tastes, even in locations where there wasn’t a significant Asian American population. Like the chow mein sandwich, which originated in Fall River, MA, consisted of fried noodles with brown gravy sandwiched between burger buns. By using gravy that resembled New England cooking and putting the accessible hamburger bun on top, Chinese restauranteurs discovered they could create a dish that was familiar to the region’s European immigrants and their descendants. Another example was Jeno Paulucci who started a line of ready-made canned Chinese food in the ’40s, who found restaurant food too bland and seasoned it according to his Italian palette.
It was so interesting to read about the history and differences of chow mein and chop suey, Vivian! The last part of your blog post reminded me of something Lucas Sin mentioned when he spoke in class, about how even though fusion is sort of looked down on as a type of food, all the foods we eat are fusion in some sort of way because of ingredients and dishes constantly being introduced to new people and parts of the world. It’s so nice to learn about “Chinese-American” cuisine (although, I’m not sure how I feel about a chow mein sandwich :,) ) and how Chinese immigrants were able to create a version of home in a new country.
That ready-made canned food terrifies me a little bit – I don’t often love food straight out of a can (canned ravioli is definitely an “ick” of mine). But I think it’s also an interesting lens through which to think about food systems. Restaurants, especially Chinese restaurants, were not nearly as ubiquitous in the 40s as today, and so people who wanted to try new “cuisines” (i.e. Italian-seasoned Chinese-inspired dishes) had limited options. Cans were likely more practical because of refrigeration, lack of refrigerated trucks, length of shipping time, and freezing technology. So much to think about just from a can!