Beef-surfaced memories: the day I came to the US
Mama recently came to Seattle for a visit. Every time she's in town, a small group of my and White Boyfriend's friends are invited over for a home-cooked Chinese meal—it's a veritable feast. She spends all day in the kitchen, and dish after dish comes parading out, the dining table its runway, the oo's and ahh's the kindling that feeds Mama's grin. This Cold Mixed Beef | 凉拌牛肉 was served that day. It was so well-received I'd be crazy not to replicate it. She gets all the credit when it comes to my cooking.
Mama and I left China when I was seven. I remember that grey morning sharply, like shards of glass etched in my memory. Mama will tell me years later that she saw Baba crying—something he rarely does—as he boiled milk for breakfast.
Our condo was on the 11th floor while Nainai and Yeye's was on the first. I took the elevator down to see them like any other day, not understanding what it meant that we were leaving for America that morning. I ran in cheerily, yelling hello while changing into indoor slippers. When I turned the corner and saw Nainai sitting at the dining table crying, I remember feeling utter shock and confusion. Without knowing the magnitude of this day, I began sobbing. I ran to her and huddled in the lap of her embrace. I don't know how long we stayed this way, but I remember hands physically dragging me out of that apartment, me screaming the whole way.
As Mama and I walked through security at the airport, Baba stood behind the glass wall that separated ticket holders from non-ticket holders. As we moved down the line, him becoming smaller and smaller, Baba craned his neck and stood on his tippy toes to continue watching us walk away. The seven-year-old me thought this was hilarious. I crouched down low and hid, popping back up excitedly to see him, waving and laughing, not registering the pain behind his eyes.
When I think back on this day, it is a broken piece of my heart. The one saving grace is a food memory—Mama buying me my first cup of vanilla soft-serve ice cream at the US airport. I remember the cold sweetness in my mouth like nothing I'd tasted before, true comfort food in an otherwise tumultuous day for a child who didn't realize everything she had left behind.
How Mama got through it all I truly do not know. Her strength and iron will are unlike any other. We lived like paupers those first few years in America, bouncing from rented rooms in people's homes to government-subsidized apartments, skrimping by, often relying on the kindness of strangers. Mama made me go to bible study classes on Sundays, but I wonder now if it was just free babysitting to her. She decided when I was nine that I would learn to cook and we made Tomato Stir-fry with Eggs | 西红柿炒鸡蛋 together. That was the beginning of my cooking education.
This education has continued into adulthood, as I now often send her texts with questions like "What was that one dish you used to make...?" This beef dish signifies how far we've come, because when White Boyfriend and I enjoy a meal that Mama has made with our friends, I am in awe of my dream of a life—this cozy house that we share with no one, this kitchen that is all mine, and this beef that I bought from Whole Foods!
Speaking of this beef, I better hop to it. The key is to develop the flavors of the meat by boiling it for hours with fragrant spices.
There is a first boil in plain water to remove impurities. Discard that water and start afresh with new water, spices, rice wine, soy sauce, onion, and ginger. Let that meat cook for at least two hours. What you end up with are incredibly flavorful hunks of beef, which you should cool at room temperature and then move to the fridge. And don't you dare throw that broth away. I used it the next day to make my own version of pho. White Boyfriend was less into that, but hey, you win some you lose some with him.
What's annoying about the sauce is all the things that need to be chopped so finely.
I do recommend doing all the chopping at once though, because the next few steps are going to go quick. Peppers to infuse the oil, sizzling of ginger/garlic/jalapeño, measuring and adding the rest of the ingredients—it all happens in a flash.
Meat is easy to slice thinly when it's cold—hence the refrigeration. This is the final step before you plate the beef and drizzle sauce liberally over it.
A bite of this beef should remind you of where you are and where you came from. White Boyfriend, on the other hand, will be too busy inhaling his meat before getting up to make more cocktails for your dinner party. Mama will sit at the head of the table smiling, her eyes a bit tired from a day spent in the kitchen, but her laughs growing as she requests drinks from White Boyfriend—"something sweet and fruity and not too strong—like a strawberry daquiri".
For the straight-up Cold Mixed Beef recipe, click here.