My Stir-fried Life E-Book

Ken Hom

• Herausgeber: The Robson Press
• Kategorie: Lebensstil
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2016

Beschreibung

As a boy, Ken Hom lived hand-to-mouth in the slums of Chicago's Chinatown. Today, he is one of the most celebrated TV chefs of all time, the man who showed the British how to cook Asian food and introduced the nation to the wok. This is the story of that remarkable journey. Aged just eight months when his father died, Ken was raised by his mother in an atmosphere of punishing poverty. But no matter how little they had, they ate well. Life would change when, at the age of eleven, Ken landed a job in his uncle's Chinese restaurant. From these humble beginnings, he travelled the globe and went on to become one of the world's greatest authorities on Asian food. His wildly popular books have inspired millions of home cooks, and he paved the way for a generation of celebrity chefs. High-spirited and frequently funny, My Stir-Fried Life is the epicurean's epic - a gastronomic narrative that lifts the spirits, tantalises the taste buds and feeds the soul of anyone and everyone who loves cooking, from the keen novice to the accomplished connoisseur.

Leseprobe

Selected works by Ken Hom

Truffles (with Pierre-Jean Pébeyre) (Serindia Contemporary, 2014) **Winner Gourmand World Cookbook Award 2015 for Best Mushrooms (USA)

Exploring China: A Culinary Adventure (with Ching He Huang) (BBC Books, 2012) **Winner Gourmand World Cookbook Award 2013 for Culinary Travel **Shortlisted for The Guild of Food Writers Awards 2013 for both the Food Broadcast of the Year Award and the Award for Work on Food and Travel

Complete Chinese Cookbook (BBC Books, 2011)

Ken Hom’s Chinese Cookery: 25th anniversary edition (BBC Books, 2009)

Ken Hom’s Quick Wok (Headline Books, 2001) **Cookbook of the Year from Food & Wine magazine, USA

Ken Hom’s Foolproof Chinese Cookery (BBC Books, 2000)

Easy Family Dishes: A Memoir with Recipes (BBC Books, 1998) **Winner of the Andre Simon Memorial Book of Year 1998 **Winner Gourmand World Cookbook Awards Best in the World in Year 1998 in the category Best Chinese Cuisine Book

Ken Hom’s Hot Wok (BBC Books, 1996)

Ken Hom’s Illustrated Chinese Cookery (BBC Books, 1993)

The Taste of China (Pavilion Books, 1990) **Shortlisted for Andre Simon Memorial Book of Year 1990

Ken Hom’s East Meets West Cuisine (Macmillan, 1987) **Shortlisted for Andre Simon Memorial Book of Year 1987

Ken Hom’s Chinese Cookery (BBC Books, 1984)

Ken Hom’s Encyclopaedia of Chinese Cookery Techniques (Ebury Press, 1984)

KEN HOM

MY STIR-FRIED LIFE

with

JAMES STEEN

This book is dedicated with love and affection to all the people of the United Kingdom who embraced me and took me into their homes and especially their kitchens. Thank you from the bottom of my heart!

Contents

Title PageDedicationIntroduction  1.Eating2.The Tea Ritual3.Never Play with Chopsticks4.Cracking Conch, Peeling Prawns5.Sticking to the Ribs6.Going West7.A Career8.The Call and the Calling9.The Academy10.Dining with Danny and James11.The Wild Child of the Kitchen12.Making Stir-Fry in the House of Chaos13.The Cook on Crutches14.The Boy Who Was Ip Man15.Embraced by Hong Kong16.A Product of Sunflower17.The New Chapter18.The Test (and Testing Times)19.Dipping a Toe into Japan20.The Trials and Tribulations of Peking Duck21.Cooking and the Books22.The Evolution of the Wok (Mine)23.A Moment in a Château24.The Table of the Shepherdess25.Have Wok, Will Travel26.Men United27.At Home with Hom28.Meals, Ready or Not29.Life and Living30.The Turner Point31.… And the Turning Point  AcknowledgementsIndexPlatesCopyright

Introduction

ACOUPLE OF WEEKS ago I was in Bangkok, and in Departures at the airport. At check-in, there was a woman and her daughter in the same queue, and close enough for me to hear them as they chatted. The daughter said, ‘Mum, look. It’s the Dalai Lama.’

I turned and realised the daughter was nodding towards me. Well, if I were to be mistaken for anyone, I figured, let it be the highest-ranking monk of Tibetan Buddhism. I could not stop myself from smiling.

It was the third time, of which I am aware, that I had been confused for His Holiness. The first time was in a restaurant in London. The second occasion, coincidentally, was also at an airport, but in Arrivals; at a baggage carousel. ‘Excuse me, are you the Dalai Lama?’ a lady had asked me, as I tried to spy my suitcase amid the circling luggage. (Yes, just the type of place you’d expect to see the spiritual leader.)

At Bangkok’s airport there was a twist. The daughter had pointed me out, but then the mother looked me up and down before she tutted and said, ‘It’s not the Dalai Lama, darling. It’s only a cook.’

I am only a cook. I am only a cook and feel as if I am the luckiest person in the whole wide world. I have lived well. I have cooked almost incessantly and to my heart’s content, and have eaten everything I have been offered, including insects and reptiles galore, although I also have cravings for fish and chips in Britain. The tastes of life from all corners of the globe I have relished. Marvellous experiences have been there for the taking, and I have taken them. I have wonderful friends and family. I am not an unhappy person.

As you read on, you will see that this is a story about food and its ability to inspire. It is the story of how food shaped my life, beginning as a child fed by a mother who had little but sacrificed all that she had. I was a minute speck in a tiny corner of Chicago, and part of the minority that kept themselves to themselves in Chinatown. Head down, button up. I did not set goals. That has never been my way. Instead, I relied on the virtuous belief, instilled in me by my mother and my Chinese-American relatives, that if I was good, then good things might happen to me. They did and they have. Thank God.

Of course, bad things have happened too. My father passed away before I had reached my first birthday. Often, however, I have felt that he is watching over me. That sense of reassurance was more frequent when I was young and craved fatherly guidance but lacked wisdom. Even though I grew up in an impoverished style, I do not regard the early years of my life as an enduring struggle. I was neither the wayward teenager nor the angry young man.

My formative years were spent as a wide-eyed pupil, not necessarily at school but learning from my mentors, who included my uncle Paul. He gave me a job in the kitchen of his restaurant when I was eleven. Through him I learnt, and throughout my life I have never stopped learning or wanting to learn. Curiosity, politeness and a decent meal have taken me onwards and, with the help of British Airways, upwards.

MY life has been one great, big stir-fry. In California, I taught cookery at my home to an audience hungry to learn about Chinese food and its folklore. In Hong Kong, I realised my dreams and for the first time felt accepted. I came to London for a ten-minute audition for a BBC series about Chinese food and cookery, the first of its kind.

It brought success I never dreamt I would have. Eight million woks have been sold, all with my name on them. I have been the author of thirty-five books (thirty-six now), many of them bestsellers. I have cooked for prime ministers and presidents, as well as a few of my childhood heroes.

Every day I reflect on my existence, and am grateful for what I have been given, and for what I have achieved, as well as travelling the world and meeting people who share my passion for food, cooking and life (even if they are not quite sure who I am).

Chi fan le mei. This is a Chinese greeting, and perfect for an introduction. The phrase is often heard when one person meets another. Translated literally, it means: Have you eaten yet? The phrase is the closest you can get to the Westerners’ greeting: How are you? So even if food is not always in the mouths of the Chinese, it is often on their lips, in the form of words. Chi fan le mei. I certainly do hope that you have eaten, but either way you are about to get hungry.

1

Eating

THE KEY TURNING in the lock, and then the slam as the door closed. Two sounds I dreaded. They were followed by that high-pitched yell – ‘I’m here!’ – and next came the swish of her slippers as she walked towards the kitchen. I figured the cleaner had arrived again. I figured right, and her name was Mrs Kelly.

I was staying in a basement flat in Lincoln Street, just a minute’s stroll from Sloane Square, Chelsea. My home was in California, where I had my own cookery school, but this was the summer of 1984 and I was here, in London, to film my first series for BBC Television.

This was a big deal. We were venturing into unknown television territory, and success was by no means guaranteed. The British were not well accustomed to shows about food and cookery, and this was to be the first of its kind devoted to Chinese food and cookery. As the presenter, and someone who had not previously appeared on television, I was a little nervous and apprehensive. Therefore, I was determined to ensure the dishes were just right.

In Chelsea, I spent hours in the kitchen of the apartment, testing the food that I intended to cook the following day in the studio. There were stir-fried dishes of shellfish, as well as cashew chicken, sweet and sour pork and the majestic Peking duck, with its skin roasted brown and as crisp as parchment. I was content in that kitchen, darting about – stir-frying and steaming, creating and crafting, tasting and … and smiling. This contentment was interrupted twice a week by the key in the lock, the slam of the door – ‘I’m here!’ – followed by those banana-yellow slippers as they swished towards me.

When Mrs Kelly reached the entrance of the kitchen, I always knew what was to come. She’d grimace, tilt her scrunched-up nose to the ceiling, inhale – with considerable dramatic effect – and then say loudly, ‘What’s that muck I smell?’

What’s that muck I smell? That was my food. Chinese food.

After two months of filming, the series was in the can and only a couple of months away from being broadcast. I thought, Oh God, Mrs Kelly could have a point. What if this series bombs? I mean, maybe it’s not going to fly … Maybe fifty people will watch it … And they’ll switch it off after ten minutes. And sure, Mrs Kelly will not be one of them.

Part of me wanted to lie in a dark room with a cold washcloth on my face. Instead, I hatched a plan to escape. I had to get out of London town, and out of the country. My plan coincided with the dollar being at a record high. So a few friends came over from California, and we set off on what would be a fantastic European road trip, gourmet style. Oh, there was a whole bunch of us: Ron Batori, Ted Lyman, Terri McGinnis and Susie Maurer.