America's Panda Express Palate: Tracing the Evolution of Chinese-American Identity through Cuisine
A Chinese restaurant in Miami. Photo by Phillip Pessar.
Sunday night dinner with my Chinese-American family consists of WeChat calls to relatives in China, smashed cucumbers with dried chiles, and the sweet whiffs of jasmine escaping the rice cooker. Food has played a key role in forming my Chinese-American identity. For example, beef with broccoli, egg rolls, and fortune cookies—the “Panda Express” palate—are dishes that represent the blending of Chinese and “American” traditions and flavors. These foods are reminders of the communities and traditions that immigrants give up in order to survive in a white, Western world that, more often than not, rejects their immigrant cultures.
The History of Chinese-American Cuisine
When the Gold Rush hit California in the mid-19th century, it drew merchants from South China, who brought with them traditional dishes from their hometowns. However, as wages and jobs declined in the West, Chinese immigrants, accused of stealing opportunities from white workers, faced intense sinophobia—anti-Chinese sentiment. For example, in a speech from 1879, Senator Sargent from Maine said: “you cannot work a man who must have beef and bread, and would prefer beef, alongside a man who can live on rice.” These discriminatory sentiments eventually translated into legislative attacks, such as the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882, which prohibited Chinese laborers from immigrating to the United States. Driven out of California, Chinese-Americans fled to the East Coast, where they opened up laundries and restaurants, professions that were “women’s work,” and therefore “not threatening to white laborers.” Soon, Chinese “chow chow houses” serving “cheap ethnic meals” dominated American restaurant culture, despite lingering anti-Chinese sentiment.
As Chinese food became more widespread, Chinese chefs began adapting their menus to cater to the American palate. During the 20th century, Chinese dishes became sweeter and fried, and incorporated non-Chinese elements like cream cheese and vegetables like broccoli. Popular items from modern Chinese restaurants such as General Tso’s chicken and crab rangoon came from efforts to blend traditional Chinese culinary techniques with the flavors of the West. By becoming a symbol of China despite its total departure from its traditional roots, chop suey, which translates to “leftovers” in Cantonese, exemplifies this transnational exchange of cultures.
The evolution of Chinese-American food represents the endless cultural tug-of-war for immigrants between preserving traditions of one’s native land and assimilating to the flavors of one’s new country. How do my parents pass on my grandmother’s ultra-spicy Mapo Tofu recipe to me if none of my local supermarkets carry the ingredients needed? Do I adjust my dishes, mannerisms, and dress to appeal to a Western audience to survive in their competitive industry? How much “Westernization” is too much? These are the questions that “third culture” Chinese-Americans, who must balance the culture they inherited from their parents and the “American” one they grew up with, are constantly grappling with.
The “Melting Pot” Myth
Despite its claims, the so-called “melting pot” of American culture is a myth that is quickly dispelled by its most basic element: its cuisine. Chinese-American dishes must tread the fine line between being ridiculed and labelled as disgusting for being too strange, and just exotic (and cheap) enough to intrigue and appeal to the Western palate. James Corden, a late-night talk show host, airs a popular segment called “Spill Your Guts or Fill Your Guts,” where he and celebrity contestants may opt out of answering personal questions by sampling “disgusting foods.” A majority of these so-called inedible foods come from Asian cultures, where they are fairly common, and sometimes even delicacies. Corden capitalizes on the “shock value” of these dishes, while remaining completely ignorant to his role in perpetuating the exoticization of Asian and Asian-American cultures.
Fusion restaurants, often led by non-Asian chefs who incorporate Asian-inspired flairs to Western dishes, further exacerbate problematic views of the “Orient.” Buddakan, a restaurant in downtown New York City, claims to offer the “vivid flavors of the Far East in a surreal atmosphere that marries the serenity of Asia with the flamboyance of 16th-century Paris.” The restaurant owner, Stephen Starr, and the executive chef, Brian Ray, both of whom are white, profit off the exotic “trendiness” of Asian fusion. While Asian-American restaurateurs are often limited to cheaper markets and mocked for their use of foreign ingredients, Western chefs are able to appropriate Asian flavors and brand their products as trendy to market them at higher price points. This discrepancy shows how multiculturalism, paired with ignorance and consumerism, promotes inaccurate, filtered depictions of non-white cultures. Only aspects of immigrant culture that are easy for white audiences to digest are accepted into America’s “melting pot.”
The Future of Chinese-American Cuisine
Contemporary Asian-American cuisine, however, serves as an example of how to productively facilitate the interaction between immigrant and “American” culture. Some of the earliest Chinese-American culinary institutions have modernized their marketing approach to share their traditions with a younger, more diverse audience. Nom Wah Tea Parlor, for example, the first dim sum restaurant in New York City’s Chinatown, has expanded into serving their classic recipes at food markets such as The Market Line. These changes have driven Asian-American entrepreneurs to the forefront of their own food industry, bypassing many culturally-appropriating white-owned restaurants.
Some restaurants have also challenged the stereotype that Chinese-American food must be cheaper than Western cuisines. Shun Lee Palace was the first upscale Chinese-American restaurant to open in Manhattan in 1971, popularizing Chinese-American food among more affluent clientele. Shun Lee’s success opened the door for other Chinese-American chefs to enter the predominantly white fine dining market. Modern restaurants, including Benu, led by Chef Corey Lee, the recipient of three Michelin stars, continue to change the trajectory of Asian-American cuisine by redefining once-”disgusting” ingredients such as thousand-year-old eggs into intricate, high-end dishes. However, despite the introduction of Chinese-American food into higher-end markets, many Chinese-American cooking methods—stir-frying in a wok, for example—are undervalued in comparison to Western, and especially French, techniques. As cuisines and cultures continue to evolve, “accepted” culinary practices will hopefully become more inclusive and representative of the diversity of dishes and flavors.
“American” Cuisine
Chinese-American cuisine is not simply cheap, convenient takeout. It was born out of the need to survive amidst harsh discrimination and will continue to through innovation and creativity. It is not only a story of struggle but also a reflection of the resilience of Chinese-Americans. Menus trace the migration of flavors and families from China to the United States and represent the emergence of Asian America. The evolution of Chinese-American food mirrors my own journey towards understanding my multicultural identity. It begins with the shame of appearing too foreign, and the desperate attempts to erase my Chinese background. It is the sinking feeling that as I become more “American,” I am drifting apart from the rest of my family in China: I am losing my appetite for my grandfather’s twice-cooked pork, and struggling to remember the Chinese phrases that once rolled off my tongue. It is my confusion and frustration when aspects of my own cultural identity that once were mocked suddenly become trendy when white-owned brands and companies co-opt them. And, it is the realization that, as a child born of two cultures, I can create my own traditions and recipes.
American culture is not just hotdogs, baseball, and apple pie—it’s dim sum at Jing Fong in Chinatown and Sichuan hotpot at New World Mall in Flushing, Queens. Despite its diverse makeup, American culture is still dominated by white, Western traditions. However, as immigrant communities attempt to change this exclusionary narrative, we have the power to financially, socially, and politically offer our allyship. By supporting immigrant-run businesses, rather than those that profit off of cultural appropriation, we actively challenge those who attempt to perpetuate intolerance and harmful exoticization. And, by educating ourselves on the often-overlooked history of immigrant America, we validate marginalized voices and pay tribute to the individuals who built this country.