Back in the early eighties, a friend who had lived in Taiwan recommended a cookbook to us, saying that Pei-Mei was a famous television cooking personality, and that we’d love and use this bilingual book. Indeed we did. Forty years and ten moves later, “the physical heft of the original hardback, splattered with stains and smudges, offers us the most direct connection with our culinary pasts” ( loc 3415). So how could I not investigate this new book by Michelle King that is both a memoir and a political and cultural history?
Pei-Mei was a young housewife, recently relocated from mainland China to Taiwan in the exodus from the new Communist government. Her husband was very traditional, and unfortunately, Pei-Mei didn’t know how to cook! So she very industriously used her own dowry money to hire chefs from different restaurants, with different cuisine styles from all over China, to give her private cooking lessons. Soon enough she was giving cooking lessons to other relocated wives who couldn’t cook either. [ #1 It was the fifties! That’s what wives were supposed to do! #2 Away from the societal model where upper-class women had hired help and on an island overrun by wealthy refugees at a time when young women could earn better wages in factories and offices, the tai-tais had to figure out a way to manage.]
Television was a new phenomenon, and PeiMei was invited to do a live show demonstrating preparation of dishes that women could replicate at home. And so it began. She had a forty-year career on television. People loved that she was friendly, motherly, competent, but also human. Occasional mistakes were made ( it was almost always live tv!). “I figured, everyone is human, who has never failed? If you know something, you know it, and if you don’t know something, you don’t know it. Best not to mislead your students for the sake of saving face” (loc 839). Interestingly, she adapted to changing times, and not only showed viewers how to integrate new technologies like microwaves into their meal prep, but also worked with industrial manufacturers to create better tasting frozen foods and instant noodles.
I was fascinated by how Pei-Mei became a representative and spokesperson for the Nationalist Taiwan government. They had her speak at overseas events, and presented her and Taiwan as a modern contrast to the Communist mainland society. As well, in its struggles on the island where the Nationalists had pushed locals to fringes, “Taiwan Television tried to promote the positive image of people who came from mainland China. Fu Pei-Mei was very much being used for a political purpose in this show”(loc 2942).
I was also struck by how she adhered to such a traditional marriage model, having her husband handle all her financial affairs and accepting that he would only dole out money to her when she requested. Indeed, the whole cooking venture only came about because he complained so bitterly about her cooking!
A differentiating element in Pei-Mei’s career, that made her stand out from other television chefs and cookbook authors, was that she had the brilliant idea to produce a bilingual cookbook. Every recipe is written in English on the right leaf, and in Chinese on the left leaf of an open page. If you need to check an ingredient at the local Asian store, just compare the characters on the item to the (likely) corresponding item in the ingredient list. But it wasn’t just straight translation; she adjusted techniques, even ingredients, so that the recipe would be accessible to non-Chinese speakers. This was also helpful to second- and third- generation Chinese who had left a Chinese language environment but wanted the foods of their culture and their youth.
And I very much appreciated the philosophical message of the book, that food is an intricate and intimate element of culture. Pei-Mei was alive to “the possibility of connecting distinct peoples and cultures through food” (loc 1584).
Even if you don’t have one of her books on your kitchen shelf (but especially if you do!), check out this one.