Spend enough time reading the best food writers, however, and you’ll realise that writing about food extends past the dish served, and speaks about the culture, science, history, geography, and politics of its land of origin.
This is how John Krich, Bangkok-based journalist and author of the upcoming book A Fork In Asia’s Road, approaches food journalism. His previous book, Won Ton Lust, was superficially described as a search for the world’s best Chinese restaurant, but is quickly revealed to be a an examination of Chinese culture as he globe-trots across China, into Taiwan, and out to Vancouver and San Francisco.
“It was really about the Chinese diaspora and how they adapt the food and their lives to these new places around the world,” says Krich, who was also a former contributor to the Asian Wall Street Journal.
A Fork In Asia’s Road plays along a similar theme, as he looks at food from various political and cultural viewpoints. “A lot of my stories don’t deal with past history, but more with contemporary politics,” he says.
Krich recalls a trip to Taiwan, just as Taiwanese Chen Shui-Bian became president. Chen was quick to differentiate himself from the opulent Chiang Kai-Shek in several ways, including changing the food served at the Presidential Palace.
“His chefs were very humble, local people from his hometown, and they cooked Taiwanese beef noodles, oyster omelettes — very common food, and that’s what he liked. There was even a joke running around that you didn’t want to be invited to the Presidential Palace because the food was so ordinary.
“But that food was a reflection of his style, his being the first Taiwanese president and being more democratic, even though later he turned out to be a very corrupt man,” he says.
Many of Krich’s stories run along these socio-political lines, such as the time he was on the South Korean island of Cheju, where he was surprised to find out that almost all the luscious tangerines and citrus fruit grown there were being sold to North Korea.
Digging deeper, he discovered that the island had a history of communist and leftist sympathy, and islanders witnessed a massacre by American troops. “The farmers still remember that period, and through these donations, they were memorialising them,” he says.
“There, food tends to be sterile, franchised, and it all tastes the same. In Malaysia you might have an adventure... you might drive 50 miles to some char kuey teow place, and it could be great or terrible, but at least it’s authentic,” he says.
While there’s little doubt that Malaysia should be winning the so-called food wars with its neighbours down south, much of the problem lies in how we market our food to the rest of the world, which in turn leads to a debate about our national identity. “In Malaysia, there’s still a confusion about its food — is it Chinese, Malay, Indian — it’s a little blurry.”
Krich calls Penang a “food museum”, and lists it as one of his favourite places to eat. One restaurant in particular stands out: “There’s this place called Terowong Seafood, located in a small village in outer Penang and it’s run by family of fishermen who take what they caught that day and cook it on banana leaves.
“For something like RM100 you can eat 20 dishes of seafood. It was the cheapest seafood I’ve ever had anywhere in the world,” he says.
A Fork in Asia’s Road: Adventures of an Occidental Glutton is due to be released in late March, published by Marshall Cavendish Singapore.
