An Old Master’s New Tricks : Rising to the Challenge of a Former Student, Madame Wong Cuts Fat, but Not Tradition

When you lunch at Madame Wong’s, there are rules.

Don’t be late. Don’t attempt to help. And for heaven’s sake, keep opinions to yourself.

Obedience has its rewards.

The visitor to S.T. Ting Wong’s modest apartment in Santa Monica is greeted with “Sit down,” delivered in a tone that makes you sit up.

The 92-year-old doyenne of Chinese cooking in Los Angeles nods toward the kitchen table. The soup is ready. Pleasantries must wait.

The 5-foot-2-inch legend with the bulldog spirit and basset eyes has been philosophizing over hissing woks for decades, but this lunch is all business. She and a former student are working on her yet-to-be named third book, a collection of low-fat Chinese recipes. This detour into the world of minimal oil in a cuisine that is legendary for using it is a testament to a facile mind.

Today’s recipe test begins with soup, a tangle of translucent vermicelli and greens swirling in a clear, pale chicken stock. The dish earned the ultimate hosanna--slurps and silence.

“Look at this,” she says, shaking her spoon. “Do you see any grease? No, no, nothing.” The ladle, tipped just so, allowed a splashdown of stock into her bowl and onto the table.

After then-President Nixon opened China’s gate in the ‘70s, Wong, newly arrived in California from China via Hong Kong, paved the way for Chinese cooking classes in Los Angeles and New York. Movie stars, diplomats and celebrated food writers dropped names to land seats in her classes at UCLA. Always over-subscribed, the sessions had yearlong waiting lists, much to the frustration of her regular students. The aphorisms dispersed then--”Turn stress into happiness,” “The impossible will always be possible”--are repeated today over the menu of braised bok choy with mushrooms and bean curd with asparagus.

Over the last few years, Wong has tapered her activities. She gave up driving at 85 and misses it. But she accepts offers from former students for chauffeur services. She doesn’t teach anymore, but she did lead a group tour to Hong Kong and China three years ago. Although she would like to witness the handing over of Hong Kong to China in June 1997, she has no concrete plans at present to visit Asia.

If a favorite client pleads hard enough, she will on occasion cater a Chinese banquet. But she insists on preparing the food in her kitchen, and the menu is according to her whim.

Students and friends gladly go to her now. And lunch is a sought-after invitation.

But one lunch takes precedence over the others. It is a standing date every Wednesday with Bob Mah, a former student of Wong and retired UCLA professor of environmental microbiology. It has been going on for months. They work on the recipes and text for her new book, then they sit down to a meal. Despite a relationship that began in the mid-’70s, she still calls him “doctor”; he calls her “madame.”

That courtesy dates from her years in Hong Kong in the mid-’50s, when the Shanghai-born caterer-teacher dazzled matrons with her personality and culinary skill. Wives of taipans and consuls left their verandas and mah-jongg tables to learn pa^te a choux and genoise in her French pastry classes, and the secrets of Peking duck and Sichuan chile pastes in her Chinese cooking classes. That once-rambunctious sweet tooth is now content with an occasional handful of homemade candied nuts from the freezer.

When Mah encouraged Wong to think low-fat and create recipes for a book, she agreed. Within six weeks, she produced more than 200 handwritten recipes for him to polish and edit.

On the subject of cooking for the health-minded ‘90s, Mah in a way became Wong’s teacher. But it didn’t take too much arm-twisting.

Communicating the wisdom of reducing oil to a minimum took a gentle hand and a gentler sales pitch. Wong’s former student reworked many of her classic recipes, ones he learned in her classes, and suggested that she try them.

“I didn’t believe Dr. Mah when he said I needed only a teaspoon of oil instead of three tablespoons. Then I tried them. They were good.”

The link between good health and good fresh food is no stranger. Wong grew up in a family of 22 doctors in Shanghai. Chinese nutritional thinking at that time linked specific foods to health. Mushrooms were said to fight cancer, bok choy to be good for digestion, bean curd--Wong’s secret for a clear complexion--to be an important protein source for growing boys.

The dish she relished today--a platter of bean curd cubes tossed with fresh asparagus in a silken brown-colored sauce, one of her new recipes--made her apologetic.

“This food, my new dishes, are not pretty. With oil, the bean curd would be shiny and beautiful.”

It is not that Wong is boycotting oil. “I only suggest people to cut down,” she says. “Everyone needs some oil for strength and pretty skin.”

She likens food without oil to a woman without makeup. “Would you rather see someone old and wrinkly with dry skin, or a beautiful woman with her proper makeup? Some recipes cannot be made with less oil,” she says. “Many dishes from Shanghai, Peking and Sichuan would not work.”

Their names spill out: crispy duck, shrimp toast, ants on a tree, Imperial shrimp, Peking duck, Shanghai pan-fried noodles.

“You cannot have low-fat crispy duck. If you want it, you shouldn’t be eating duck. It’s very fat.

“Oil makes food look pretty. It shines, feels good in the mouth and tastes good. Of all the regional Chinese cuisines, only Cantonese can work on minimal oil, except in stir-fries.”

But she immediately defends the idea of a good stir-fry: If it is done with high heat, just enough oil and perfect timing, the result will not be greasy.

Mah disagrees, but with a diplomat’s grace: “Today’s cooks are willing to make the trade-off. The flavor of fresh ingredients is stronger without the oil. The clean taste and health benefit are worth it. And you don’t feel heavy after eating a low-fat meal.”

Such a low-fat meal would cause raised eyebrows among Wong’s contemporaries. “My friends in Hong Kong and China would think I am crazy with so little oil,” she says. “They would say, ‘I eat fat, it tastes good, I am not dead. So why give it up?’ ”

But she respects people like Mah who, for medical reasons, must restrict their intake of fat. A heart attack in 1983 forced him to change his steak and bearnaise ways. The kitchen back then was his only refuge for fat-free dining.

“The Chinese restaurants then in L.A. were terrible,” he says. “Everything was soaked in oil. Even when you made a request, you couldn’t get what you wanted without it.”

Since his heart attack, Mah has reworked his favorite Chinese, other Asian and Western-style recipes. Then, in 1987, he put his ideas and dishes to the ultimate test: He and a partner opened a dim sum restaurant in Newport Beach.

The 35-seat Ho Sum Bistro (“ho sum” in Cantonese means “good for the heart”) proved that chicken substituted for fatty pork in dim sum and other Chinese specialties could be delicious and healthy. His ideas and recipes inspired the menu.

Because of his teaching responsibilities, Mah sold his share in 1992. The restaurant continues its success today with a few of the original dishes.

The bond of friendship and respect between Mah and Wong is strong though subtle. He finishes her sentences and adds a missing fact or clarifies one when she forgets. When she scolds him for clearing the table or fussing at the wok, he nods, apologizes and continues the task. He respects their differences.

“She’s amazing,” he says. “Her energy is hard to keep up with. She’s from the old school, from another era. Many of the ideas I do not agree with. They come from a time when there was mystery about food and nutrition, the value of brews, the link of certain vegetables such as asparagus and the heart. Now there are more studies and we are still exploring.

“There is no question that fats and oil add an undeniably sensuous mouth-feel and aroma to foods. Oil has the ability to dissolve many flavors and distribute them evenly throughout the cooked dish.

“In Chinese cooking, water or stock cannot intensify the flavors the same as oil. However, in today’s health-conscious lifestyle, we should look for options that will satisfy our desire for good taste without compromising our health.”

When the teacups arrive, Wong goes to the closet and returns with two scrapbooks. They hold decades’ worth of her professional biography.

After Mah reconfirms their next lunch, he slips out. The screen door is barely closed when Wong looks up from the album and chooses to comment on her friend.

“The character of the cook shows in the food. Dr. Mah’s is a good one.”

For Wong, the most important things in life are a balanced diet, being strong and giving to people. Whatever happens, one must make the best of tragedy. And she has had more than her share, say friends. In the early ‘50s she fled from the communists by herself, leaving Shanghai for a new life in Hong Kong with only $1.25 in her pocket. Her husband died as a young man leaving her a widow in her early 30s. Then both sons later died in their adult years.

Friends and students throughout the years have buoyed her; so has teaching.

“Look at me,” she says. “No one believes my age. I am full of pep. I am a lucky girl.”

One clipping from a Chinese newspaper in Hong Kong shows the then-raven-haired teacher in a baking class. She immediately offers a mea culpa for not baking and serving one of those butter or fruit cakes that made her reputation.

Then she rises and reaches for the freezer door.

“Try these,” she waves, spilling the contents of the container--her homemade candied walnuts and pecans--out on the table.

“Do you really like low-fat food?” she asks between handfuls of nuts. “Poor Dr. Mah has no choice.”

She pauses.

“A little oil really does make food taste better,” she says finally, taking another handful of nuts. “And with low fat, you can’t have these.”

*

The following recipes include three of Wong’s signature dishes--crispy duck, Imperial shrimp and cold spicy noodles--plus three of her new low-fat recipes, “family” bean curd, “new” chicken salad and mango mousse.

* Dragon glasses in chicken salad photo from Marilyn Morris at the Rose Bowl swap meet, space BB14.

NEW CHICKEN SALAD

This is the updated version of Madame Wong’s chicken salad. The original version, enriched with nuts and fried rice sticks, was copied by many restaurants in the ‘70s. In this new recipe, the chicken is skinned and the meat is wrapped in foil before roasting. The foil wrap keeps it moist and juicy. Jicama, substituted for nuts and rice sticks, contributes texture and crunch. Oil is omitted from the dressing. For a stronger flavor, a minimal amount of oil may be used in the sauce.

2 (6-ounce) chicken breasts, fat, skin and bone removed

1/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons light soy sauce

1/4 teaspoon salt

2 tablespoons sugar

1/4 cup red wine or rice vinegar

2 green onions, chopped fine

1 teaspoon chile oil, optional

1 small head iceberg lettuce, shredded and chilled

1 cup shredded jicama, chilled

1/2 cup bean sprouts, root ends snapped off, chilled

1/2 cup shredded carrots, chilled

1/4 cup preserved red ginger, chopped

Rub chicken with 2 tablespoons soy sauce; marinate 30 minutes.

Place chicken in foil and seal tightly. Roast in shallow pan at 350 degrees 30 minutes.

Cool chicken and shred meat by hand; do not cut.

Combine salt, sugar, vinegar and remaining 1/4 cup soy sauce in mixing bowl. Mix well. Add green onions and chile oil. Add lettuce, jicama and chicken. Toss to mix well.

Arrange salad on serving plates. Place bean sprouts and carrots on top. Garnish with preserved ginger. Serve at once.

Makes 4 servings.

Each serving contains about:

175 calories; 917 mg sodium; 29 mg cholesterol; 5 grams fat; 18 grams carbohydrates; 14 grams protein; 1.30 grams fiber.

MANGO MOUSSE

In the original version of this fruit mousse, heavy whipping cream was used. In this updated recipe, fat-free vanilla ice cream or yogurt is substituted. Apricot or orange gelatin may be used for mango.

4 mangoes, peeled and seeded

6 tablespoons mango or tropical fruit gelatin

1 cup boiling water

1 cup fat-free vanilla ice cream or fat-free frozen vanilla yogurt

1 pint strawberries, hulled and halved

Slice 1 mango and set aside. Puree remaining mangoes in food processor or blender until smooth. It should equal about 2 cups.

Place gelatin in saucepan and add boiling water. Return to boil and stir until dissolved. Remove from heat.

In large mixing bowl, blend mango puree with ice cream until smooth. Add gelatin mixture to mango mixture and stir until smooth. Pour into mold and refrigerate at least 4 hours.

Unmold onto serving plate. Garnish with reserved mango slices and strawberry halves. Serve immediately.

Makes 4 to 6 servings.

Each serving contains about:

241 calories; 42 mg sodium; 0 cholesterol; 1 gram fat; 50 grams carbohydrates; 12 grams protein; 2.17 grams fiber.

IMPERIAL SHRIMP

Wong says her students like the shrimp shelled, but the Chinese prefer leaving the shells on--the shell of the shrimp adds flavor. This dish may be prepared in advance up to the deep-frying step.

1 pound shrimp, shelled and deveined if desired

1/2 teaspoon salt

1 1/2 teaspoons cornstarch

2 cups oil

1/4 cup finely chopped onion

2 green onions, finely chopped

2 tablespoons finely chopped ginger root

1/4 cup catsup

1/4 cup chicken stock

1 tablespoon sugar

1 tablespoon Sherry

2 tablespoons chile paste with garlic (use 1 tablespoon if you prefer moderate spice)

Cut shrimp into halves lengthwise. Add salt and cornstarch. Mix to coat well.

Heat oil to 375 degrees and deep-fry shrimp 1 minute. Drain. Discard all but 2 tablespoons oil.

Reheat 2 tablespoons oil in wok. Stir-fry onion, green onions and ginger root 1 minute. Add catsup, stock and sugar. Bring to boil. Add shrimp, Sherry and chile paste. Stir-fry briskly on high heat 30 seconds; serve immediately.

Makes 4 to 6 servings.

Each of 4 servings contains about:

233 calories; 1,053 mg sodium; 151 mg cholesterol; 9 grams fat; 14 grams carbohydrates; 21 grams protein; 0.31 gram fiber.

CRISPY DUCK

Crispy duck is a culinary favorite that is delicious with pea pods and mushrooms. A steamer is necessary for this dish. This recipe may be prepared in advance and refried before serving. It also may be frozen after the steaming. Serve the duck with plum sauce, available in most Asian grocery stores and many supermarkets. Plain steamed buns and peppercorn salt are delicious accompaniments as well.

1 (5-pound) duck

2 tablespoons salt

1 (1/4-inch thick) piece ginger root

1 green onion, cut into 4 pieces

2 tablespoons dark soy sauce

6 tablespoons flour

2 quarts oil

2 tablespoons peppercorn salt, optional

Plum sauce, optional

Wash duck and wipe dry. Rub with salt inside and out.

Put ginger and green onion pieces inside duck cavity and place in refrigerator at least 4 hours.

Place duck directly on steamer tray. Steam, covered, over boiling water 1 1/2 to 2 hours. Remove. Set aside and cool.

Brush duck with soy sauce. Sprinkle flour on duck, rubbing well into skin and coating thoroughly.

Heat oil in deep skillet, wok or deep-fat fryer until very hot. Fry duck until crisp and golden brown, turning occasionally, about 15 minutes total.

Serve whole or cut into pieces with plum sauce.

Makes 4 servings.

Each serving contains about:

1,402 calories; 7,777 mg sodium; 233 mg cholesterol; 134 grams fat; 9 grams carbohydrates; 37 grams protein; 0.05 gram fiber.

FAMILY BEAN CURD

No day in Madame Wong’s life passes without her fix of bean curd. She insists she can live on this recipe alone. Serve soy or chile paste as a condiment. Soak dried mushrooms in hot water 20 minutes; then boil 20 minutes until soft, remove stem and slice.

1 teaspoon olive oil

1 carrot, thinly sliced

1/2 cup sliced green beans or pea pods

8 fresh or reconstituted dried black mushrooms, sliced

1 (12- to 16-ounce) box soft bean curd, cut into 1-inch cubes

1 tablespoon light soy sauce

1/2 cup chicken stock

1 tablespoon cornstarch, dissolved in 2 tablespoons water

1 green onion, chopped fine

1/2 teaspoon sesame oil, optional

Heat oil in nonstick pan or wok. When oil is very hot, stir-fry carrot, beans and mushrooms 1 minute.

Add bean curd, soy sauce and stock and bring to boil.

Thicken with cornstarch, sprinkle with chopped green onion and remove to serving dish. Drizzle with sesame oil.

Makes 1 serving.

Each serving contains about:

672 calories; 1,475 mg sodium; 0 cholesterol; 36 grams fat; 40 grams carbohydrates; 62 grams protein; 2.76 grams fiber.

COLD SPICY NOODLES

1/2 pound fresh Chinese noodles

1/4 cup plus 1 tablespoon sesame seed oil

1 cup bean sprouts

1 tablespoon vegetable oil

1 egg, lightly beaten

1/2 cup cooked Virginia ham, shredded

1 cup cooked, shredded chicken

1 cucumber, peeled, seeded and shredded

1/2 cup shredded celery

1 tablespoon chile sauce

1/4 cup light soy sauce

1/4 cup red wine vinegar or rice vinegar

1/2 teaspoon salt to taste

This dish has a sharp, vinegary edge. For a milder taste, substitute rice wine vinegar for the red wine vinegar. This recipe may be prepared in advance; pour on sauce just before serving.

Cook noodles in boiling water about 4 minutes. Add 1/4 cup of cold water and return to boil 1 minute. Rinse with cold water. Drain. Mix with 1 tablespoon sesame seed oil. Chill.

Plunge bean sprouts into boiling water to cover 1 minute. Drain. Set aside.

Grease small skillet with vegetable oil. Pour in beaten egg and fry egg like pancake. Remove. Shred.

Arrange noodles on serving plate. Arrange bean sprouts, ham, chicken, cucumber, celery and egg on top.

Mix remaining 1/4 cup sesame seed oil, chile sauce, soy sauce, red wine vinegar and salt in small bowl. Pour over covered noodles. Serve cold.

Makes 4 to 6 servings.

Each of 4 servings contains about:

531 calories; 1,117 mg sodium; 94 mg cholesterol; 26 grams fat; 57 grams carbohydrates; 18 grams protein; 0.86 gram fiber.