by Tara Lee
February 18th marks the start of the Year of the Boar, the conclusion off a twelve year cycle in the Chinese zodiac. The event is rich with cultural traditions that cover everything from eating practises to protocol for the distribution of highly sought after red packets. New Year is a time of celebration, family, and of course, shared enjoyment of an exciting culinary heritage. Transplanted to a Canadian context, New Year’s traditions alter as new generations intermarry, children create their own sense of identity, and those people outside of the “family” join in on the party.
For Chinese Canadians, the New Year often marks a time to get in touch with the cultural ties that may often seem tenuous or distant during the rest of the year. Especially for multi-generational Chinese Canadians or those of mixed race, the event and its food provide a important opportunity to reflect back on their cultural ancestry. Don Montgomery, Publisher of Ricepaper magazine and Executive Director of explorASIAN, has fond memories of his mother and grandmother busy in the kitchen, cooking up never-ending delicacies for the family. Memories of wafting kitchen smells and the accompanying New Year’s rituals linger with him. “It’s kind of like remembering your childhood. You have memories of receiving a red envelope and it wasn’t your birthday,” he recalls.
Still, in his hectic modern life, this “second-generation Chinese Canadian” has little time to replicate the intricate culinary labouring of his maternal influences. Instead, Montgomery will be “cheating” this year, and heading to Chinatown to buy roasted pork, soy sauce chicken, barbecue duck, and fresh fruits and vegetables. As he explains, “in our busy world, a lot of us would go to a Chinese food store and basically just serve it. For someone to make this stuff at home, it’s a whole day affair.” In this case, the traditions continue, albeit with the help of retailers who aid the time-pressed in their communal gorging.
Lee Man (aka Canucklehead) is a judge for this year’s Vancouver Magazine Restaurant Awards, and has also reworked Chinese New Year to reflect his own particular social landscape. Born in Hong Kong and raised in Canada, Man is proud of his Chinese ancestry and is eager to expand the guest list for his festivities. “As you become more Canadianized, you throw that out to non-Chinese because you want to be with those who mean something to you at Chinese New Year,” he says.
Consequently, the friends around the lazy susan will be from both Chinese and non-Chinese backgrounds. Man attributes the interest in the banquet dinner to an increased willingness to be more than spectators on the important day. “I think the people who are going to join us for dinner like the idea of the celebration. The bigger connection for them is the food. They’re really fascinated by the food. They’re really interested in seeing what a big celebratory Chinese meal is like.”
This year, Man has booked three tables at the Kirin Restaurant where dishes of suckling pig and lobster will make traditional appearances. Man takes the best of his food culture and offers it up to his blended company. “The only thing I change is with stuff that I don’t like. I don’t do the dried oysters with the hairy fungus,” admits Man.
Meanwhile, another individual who really champions the blended nature of New Year celebrations is Todd Wong, a fifth generation Chinese Canadian who organises the popular Gung Haggis Fat Choy dinner. Wong started assisting with the Robbie Burns event at Simon Fraser University in 1993, and ten years ago, hosted a Chinese New Year dinner that brought the two different cultures together to create a dynamic culinary exchange. “One [group] came across the Atlantic and called it Nova Scotia. The other came across the Pacific and called it Gum Shan – Gold Mountain. They meet in the middle, and they date and have babies,” Wong explains.
At that first dinner, Wong cooked salmon, Chinese-style, as well as invited a friend to bring haggis in order to create the ultimate fusion celebratory experience. The hybrid food became symbolic of the mixed identities of many of the people attending the celebration. “As the dinner evolved and got bigger, we thought let’s put haggis in the wonton. Let’s put haggis in the lettuce wrap. We really hit a resonance with people who grew up in interracial relationships or are the product of interracial relationships,” says Wong.
Thus, on January 28, the 10th Gung Haggis Fat Choy featured a ten-course banquet dinner at Floata Chinese Restaurant, with a menu that included haggis har gow (shrimp dumplings), haggis siu mai (pork dumplings), and of course, haggis with plum or sweet and sour sauce. Wong dismisses criticisms of inauthenticity, arguing that the tongue-in-cheek humour is an attempt to come up with new traditions that reflect a shifting Canadian society. “We have to be able to recognise the past while preparing us for the future. Otherwise, our event becomes a museum piece,” he insists. “We’re in Canada. We’re authentically Canadian,” he adds.
As a result, the desire for all Vancouverites, Chinese and non-Chinese alike, to ring in the Year of the Boar is a hopeful sign that both culinary and cultural borders can be overcome. As Wong states, “in the 50s and 60s, people would venture to Chinatown for something exotic. At the same time, they weren’t recognizing Chinese Canadians in law and bar associations. It took longer to achieve full equality.” However, as Montgomery offers his children orange slices, Man and his friends sit down to feast on lobster, and Wong enjoys a haggis dumpling, the benefits of cross-cultural sharing become even more apparent.
