Popcorn Multiculturalism

Can't remember where I first heard the term "popcorn multiculturalism," but I've always liked it as a critique of the ways that Americans "celebrate diversity." I'm sure it could also mean that the discourse around multiculturalism and the way it gets presented in schools is often without substance or much nutritional/ educational value--that it's a lot of nonsense dressed up with butter and salt. And I have a vague memory of eating popcorn in elementary school around Thanksgiving, since pilgrims and Native Americans may have eaten popped corn in the seventeenth century, and that bit of cross-cultural culinary celebration of coexistence worked out smashingly well in the long run for all some of the guests , so voila, popcorn = the multiculture.

I think the best example of why culinary multiculturalism as practiced in schools yields unpredictable results comes from a few lines in Li-Young Lee's superb poem, "Persimmon," in which his teacher presents his sixth grade class with a persimmon:
...
Mrs. Walker brought a persimmon to class
and cut it up
so everyone could taste
a Chinese apple. Knowing
it wasn’t ripe or sweet, I didn’t eat
but watched the other faces
...

It's a beautiful poem and this is the smallest, least interesting part; really you should go read it now. I like the idea of a well-meaning educational exercise derailed by incomplete knowledge and unripe fruit, with the other kids eager to try and then having their suspicions of the foreign confirmed by the chalk and pucker of the unripe flesh instead of the delight that is a properly ripe persimmon.
The poem, of course, tells you how to eat persimmons: you age them first in crumpled newspaper and then monitor them on the bedroom windowsill with the same care and patience you need to weather your own emergence from adolescence and your father's encroaching blindness. Are you convinced yet? Really, just go read the poem already.

So, no popcorn multiculturalism. But popcorn that incorporates two cultures--fusion popcorn--well that's culinary multiculturalism I will embrace.

We're enjoying Grace Young's stirfry book and she says that no wok performs at its best until it has years' worth of patina seared onto the carbon steel, but you can cheat the process a bit by making popcorn in the wok--it distributes the hot oil all around in a way that speeds the darkening of the wok.

So lately I've been making popcorn in the wok, and instead of soy sauce and nutritional yeast I've been drizzling on some Sichuan chili oil that I decided to make after an awesome visit to NYC. I met my brother and my parents and D.'s friend and his parents out in Flushing, Queens for Sichuan food at Little Pepper.

7 of us ate:

cold tripe
dan dan noodles
cumin roasted lamb in tin foil (apparently more Northern Chinese than Szechuan but still delicious)
dumplings and wontons in two different sauces
fried tilapia in red sauce
crunchy cubed and deep fried chicken with sesame and chiles
bamboo shoots in chili oil
tea-smoked duck
pea shoots
two variations on leeks (I think?) with pork belly or maybe some kind of sweet-cured bacon
cold silken tofu in chili oil with blackened scallion and Sichuan peppercorn

The tripe was my fault; I'd never tried it before. For something that looks like the hook side of velcro and has the texture of a long-chewed chiclet, this was actually pretty tasty, but not nearly as good as half a dozen of the other dishes. The tea-smoked duck and the leek dishes were lovely, and so was the cold tofu, which I decided would be easy to duplicate at home if I had this Sichuan chili oil that I read about on the Red Cook blog recommended by Grace Young. The chili oil is wonderful stuff--star anise and cinnamon for aromatics, scallion and ginger for hearty flavor, Sichuan peppercorns and pepper flake for heat. But as you can see from the comments, it wasn't the right recipe for the cold tofu. Kiam Lam Kho explains the right way to make that dish in the comment section:

The cold tofu dish you described is a wonderful appetizer served regularly in Sichuan. It is sometimes served as a preserved egg and tofu dish. The dressing is what we call “mala” dressing. It is made with soy sauce, black vinegar, sugar, Sichuan peppercorn powder, the chili oil and optionally a little extra Sichuan chili sauce.

This chili sauce is made with fried onions, Sichuan peppercorn, fermented soy beans, sesame oil and other seasonings. You can buy this Sichuan chili sauce in Chinatown market and the best known brand is “Lao Gan Ma” or “Old God Mom.” Here is a facebook page on “Lao Gan Ma” brand of chile products. The one you should look for to make the dressing is currently depicted in the fifth picture in the photo album.

https://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=2361721520&v=info

I believe this is the sauce that Little Pepper use for their “mala” dressing. Enjoy!

Recap:
1) you should go to Little Pepper if you can.
2) you should read Li-young Lee's poetry and Kiam Lam Kho's blog.
3) Looks like I'm headed back to the Asian grocery store for mala dressing ingredients.