"Our benchmark for Americanness is apple pie. But ask yourself: How often do you eat apple pie? How often do eat Chinese food?" That's what Jennifer 8. Lee (the 8 is a number that connotes prosperity for the Chinese) writes in _The Fortune Cookie Chronicles: Adventures in the World of Chinese Food_ (Twelve Books), and although "As American as apple pie" may never be replaced by "As American as Chinese food," she has an interesting point. It is a point made in many different ways in each chapter of her funny and enlightening book which is about what would be better called American Chinese food, a type of cuisine that is served all over the United States in more restaurants than McDonald's, Burger King, and KFC combined, and is also something you can find all over the world. I remember, for instance, fifteen years ago being in Amsterdam and going to a Chinese restaurant, and it was almost as if we had stepped into one on Main Street, USA. There were red and gold décor, pictures of dragons and waterfalls, pictures of the specialties above the register, a menu printed in black and red, with egg rolls, chop suey, and all the old favorites, and they all tasted just like home.
Lee is a New York Times reporter and an American-born Chinese who got intrigued by a 2005 Powerball lottery drawing when an unexpectedly high number of people got five of six numbers correct; they had picked the lucky numbers on from a fortune cookie. Because these cookies were distributed all over the US, there were winners all over, and Lee set out to visit the winners, their particular Chinese restaurants, and trace back to the factory that made the cookies and the people who wrote the fortunes. Among the "Chinese" foods described here, the cookie is one that didn't originate in America. The cookies originated in Japan, and are not so ancient as Confucius, arising sometime in the nineteenth century. There is a whole chapter here ("The Long March of General Tso") about my favorite Chinese dish, the general's chicken. It will not surprise you, perhaps, that the general did not invent the chicken recipe, but it may be more Chinese than chop suey, which is unknown in China and may have originated as a joke by a Chinese chef in America who was told to concoct something that would "pass as Chinese". General Zuo (a more modern transliteration of "Tso") Zongtang is a historical figure venerated by the Chinese for his gifts as a military leader. He died in 1885, but his name lives on because of his chicken. When Lee goes to the general's ancestral village in rural Hunan, she finds that the village is proud of its famous son as a general, but has no idea about his branching off into victuals. Lee showed a waitress at a restaurant there a picture of General Tso's chicken, getting the reply, "It doesn't look like chicken." "No one here eats this," says an old farmer. When she explains that many Americans know the general's name, one villager is not surprised. "He was very talented. A lot of people respected and admired him." Lee didn't have the heart to say that no one in America knows him except for his chicken dish. It's not even his dish, but may be closer to General Ching's chicken, and Ching was the mentor to Tso. And even Ching's is not close. A Hunan chef is dismayed by the taste: "The taste of Hunan cuisine is not sweet... That's not right. This isn't authentic."
He is missing the point! There isn't much authentic about American Chinese food except that it has a wonderful uniformity wherever it is served. You can count on it. A foreign service officer serving in Iraq, who maybe ought to be trying exotic kebabs and hummus, says, "It's a taste of home. What could be more American than beer and take-out Chinese?" There are wonderful surprises here about this favorite food. Lee traces how immigrants come, mostly from Fuzhou, and are posted to different locales in the United States (some of this story is pretty grim). She shows that Chinese take out, the grandfather of all takeouts, was started in 1976 in New York by an enterprising woman whose restaurant was about to go under. The soy sauce packets you get with your meal probably contain no soy. There is a hilarious story of a kosher Chinese restaurant ("Moshe Dragon") which caused an uproar serving non-kosher duck to its customers, a story of religious scandal and destroyed reputations. Memoir, history, and sociological study, these chronicles are a delight, and if you are like me, you won't be able to get through the book without ordering from your local Chinese restaurant. Explain that you insist on the authentic chicken of General Tso.