Takeaway
Takeaway Party Anyone?
Chef’s Kitchen Chinese takeaway in El Cerrito, California was a beloved after school institution when I was in high school. There was only a small counter, no indoor seating, and an open kitchen. Every so often a burst of fire would shoot up from one of the furiously moving woks. There aren’t many places left where a student can spend less than ten dollars on a bulging styrofoam container of freshly made noodles with crunchy celery and cabbage (though the lack of styrofoam is probably a good thing). Or fluffy mounds of steamed rice flanked by deeply flavored curries and stir fries. It might look like enough for two meals, but it’s too craveable to stop eating.
Disappointingly, where I live now there are no nearby Chinese takeaways to satisfy my cravings, so I turned to what should be your next late summer read, Takeaway: Stories From Behind the Childhood Counter which was both delightful and painful to read – I get hangry. Food journalist Angela Hui takes us behind the counter of her family’s takeaway, Lucky Star, which operated for thirty years in the rural village of Beddau in South Wales.
For Angela, growing up as a “takeaway kid” was both a haven and a hellhole. Service was usually done at either peak adrenaline or achingly slow. After school and on the weekends, the three Hui siblings suffered through “lid duty,” took orders, and packed bags of freshly fried prawn crackers (“one for the bag, one for us”). But Lucky Star’s front room was also a place for celebrations, holidays, and family gatherings. In short, the restaurant was more of a home than their flat above.
“Our family love differently – not better, not worse, but definitely different.” While their love is unquestionable there are growing rifts. Their father becomes increasingly aggressive and volatile while their mother is sacrificing her health for the success of the takeaway and her family. Also, stories which don’t write-off behaviour like Angela’s father calling her “useless and stupid” for messing up an order, as a quirk of Asian parenting are always refreshing.
Sprinkled liberally amongst the strife is beauty and tenderness. A family who often cannot use words to connect on a deeper level do so through food. Their mother rescues the last melons to make a classic, nourishing Chinese soup. There is emergency wonton soup eaten after a hard service and breakfast at a Hong Kong cha chaan teng where their father becomes a calm, unrecognizable version of his usual high octane self.
There is trauma and anxiety in both generations on which adult Angela reflects. English and Cantonese clash in the kitchen and at home. While her parents have few places where they feel self-empowered, Angela rejects anything Chinese in order to be seen as Welsh. Lucky Star also endures harassment like crank calls to more frightening incidents like setting their rubbish bins on fire and breaking into the garden to destroy precious shark’s fin melons. Being “enough” is not a state of being that exists.
Takeaway is one of those stories which doesn’t provide a neat wrap-up. Especially as we live in a time where questions of race and identity feel more polarizing and volatile than ever. But this is also why this book resonated with me so much because – cliché incoming – food really is the great unifier. Despite the difficulties they faced, Lucky Star fed everyone, regardless of their political and racial views.
I know I called this a late summer read, but considering how expensive it’s gotten to eat out and this book is loaded with recipes, I’ve already got my winter weekends sorted. Takeaway party anyone?
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