My Name’s Nina, What’s Good?

A failure to communicate? Not Nina Simonds. Not even in Mandarin.

Stepping into the Chinese beef jerky shop at San Gabriel Square, spraying Chinese endearments like machine-gun fire, Simonds befriends the two women behind the counter in about a second and a half, ascertaining where they’re from and which of the several kinds of jerky on display they like best, telling them that she always stops in their store whenever she’s in Southern California and explaining that she likes her beef jerky packed in several smaller bags rather than one large box because she likes to give it out to friends--and she wants a bag for herself on the plane ride home.

It amuses the women that this thin, dark-haired American with the sly, wide smile and husky voice is chatting them up in slangy Mandarin. By the end of the transaction, they’ve learned that she lives in Salem, Mass., cracked a couple of jokes with her and told her that she must visit their East Coast store in Flushing, N.Y.

As Simonds leaves the shop, the three wave goodbye like old college roommates who bumped into one another at Bloomingdale’s.

“My new friends!” Simonds exclaims when she’s out the door.

It’s not difficult to imagine similar scenes repeating themselves ad infinitum in the shops and restaurants of Taiwan. Simonds, who lived in Taipei for several years, has friends all over Asia, friends who taught her the right way to make a bowl of cinnamon noodles and the proper way to tea-smoke a duck, friends whose recipes Simonds adapted for her many cookbooks. Her latest, “Asian Noodles” (Hearst Books, $21), is Simonds’ first cookbook that isn’t strictly Chinese.

She’s at work on a book of Asian medicinal foods, finalizing plans for a research trip to Asia in May, traveling around the country to promote the new book and making sure she’s got enough time to spend with her 8-year-old son, Jesse, and her husband, Don Rose, who owns the edgy CD label Rykodisc.

Recently, she paused to talk about the changes she’s seen in Chinese cuisine both in China and in this country, and her own evolution as a cook.

Question: You went to live and study cooking in Taiwan when you were just 19 in the early ‘70s, a time when most food-obsessed people were going to France. Why Taipei and not Paris?

Answer: I had originally thought of going to France. I even wrote to Julia Child asking where I should study in Paris. She wrote back a wonderful letter. But she said that the best school in Paris was mostly for professionals and suggested Lausanne, Switzerland. I wasn’t really interested in Switzerland, so I decided to study Chinese language, culture and cuisine. [Years later, Simonds did attend La Varenne Cooking School in Paris.]

Of course, China was in the middle of its cultural revolution, and they weren’t welcoming people like me. Through incredible luck and coincidence, I ended up living in Taiwan with the family who ran a famous cooking school.

Q: What were your days like?

A: I started off at this cooking school not only as a student but helping them translate this cookbook that was a compilation of the chef’s recipes.

Of course, I had to find other jobs to support myself. At first I taught English. Then I found a job as the coffee expert in a coffee house. I didn’t even drink coffee, but they hired me as the American coffee expert.

Most days, I would go to school and study Mandarin, take a bus to the cooking school, spend most of the rest of the day at the cooking school, go home in the afternoon and cook at night. And the family would rate my food.

Q: Your first food reviews?

A: Exactly. My surrogate Chinese mother would rate my food. She was so supportive. Eventually, she sat me down and said, “I think it’s time for you to specialize. You have this broad introduction; I think it’s time for you to choose a cuisine that you really are very interested in.” I chose Hunan cooking and worked for the chef who had the best Hunan restaurant in the city, as an apprentice for no pay. I started cleaning vegetables, I helped prep and I was very interested in the pastries and dim sum.

Q: What was it like for you as an American in a Taiwanese kitchen?

A: At first, just getting into the kitchen was really an impossible feat. One thing that helped was that I spoke Mandarin. And I had a track record because I was at the cooking school. Of course, the chefs didn’t take me seriously in the beginning. But in fact, it was to my advantage to be a foreigner, and in a way even an advantage to be a woman. They thought I was very cute and charming at first, but they could see I was really interested in their cuisine. They’d say, “Well, if she is interested in learning our language and our food, then we respect her. A bit.”

I really think that Taiwan was a very special place to be in the ‘70s. There was this amazing pool of talent that had come from China before and during the revolution, from every region. The chefs in Taiwan really had a sense that cooking was an art--a cultural treasure--and the people there respected these very talented chefs.

I feel that there was no better place to eat Chinese food. And I feel that the chefs were in some ways honored that an outsider was so interested.

Q: Were they interested in American food?

A: Definitely. I taught some Western cooking at the school. But they already had their own teachers teaching Western cooking. Every now and then I’d sit in just to see what they were up to. They were doing hamburgers, hot dogs and mayonnaisey kinds of things, dishes that would not even necessarily be considered American, things that would make you want to say, “Wait a minute. There’s much more to it than that. There is a diversity of foods embodied in American cooking that that you have to understand.” It was almost painful to watch.

Q: Did that give you a good perspective on what Chinese people in America might feel when their food is presented by Westerners?

A: When I came back in the mid-’70s, I had a mission. I felt that I had to really show people what true, authentic Chinese cooking was like. I wanted to show people that Chinese food was so much richer and fuller than not only anything we had ever experienced but than anything we had even begun to imagine.

Q: That must have been difficult to communicate at the time.

A: I’ll never forget the first time I catered Chinese food for a party. I was living in Akron, Ohio, and I told the client, “Now you have to understand that I don’t do the type of food that you’re used to. I do real Chinese food.” The woman putting the party together said, “No problem. We’re very sophisticated.”

Oh, it was a disaster. First, I let them drink for two hours before they ate. I made barbecued spare ribs, spring rolls--but real spring rolls--kung pao chicken, a shrimp dish, dry-cooked string beans. Nobody got those.

For dessert, I made saqima [pronounced sa-chee-ma], which are Cantonese. They look like fried noodles. You make the noodles, then toss them in caramel and press them into squares. I’ll never forget this man walking into the kitchen and handing me his napkin. He’d spit the dessert into his napkin and he gave it to me to throw away. I couldn’t believe it.

But I did start teaching and giving demonstrations while I was in Akron, in a gourmet cookware store. And the people there got it. They really did.

Q: It seems that from the moment you got back, you had to learn to balance your desire for authenticity with accessibility.

A: I always adapted recipes, but I tried hard to stay true to the original dish. When I came back from living in China, I was a purist. I felt that because I was Caucasian, I couldn’t bend the rules. It would be an insult, a betrayal to my teachers.

It wasn’t until the early ‘80s, after I’d written a series on Chinese food for Gourmet magazine, that I felt comfortable enough to really bend and adapt. I finally had enough self-confidence to realize that I wanted to bend the rules a little bit.

Then I had my son Jesse, and all hell broke loose. It was like, who needs to go to Chinatown? Now I feel that it’s my role in a way to incorporate all the different things that I know and to make them accessible, while remaining true to the basic tenets of the cuisine.

Q: What are some of the things you’re doing to make your food more accessible?

A: Oh, for instance, I don’t go to Chinese markets as much; I go to a supermarket. I really believe now that one of the basic tenets of Chinese cooking is to use what’s available, what’s accessible, what’s seasonal.

When you look at regional Chinese cooking, the chefs basically used what was local. So it’s totally appropriate to say, “Go into the market and see what’s there. See what’s at its peak.” One of the best things about really authentic Chinese cooking is that it celebrates the ingredients, particularly when you look at techniques like stir-frying and steaming that accentuate the natural flavors of the food.

Now I tell to people right off that it’s not always absolutely necessary to go to an Asian specialty market. And it’s not absolutely necessary to use a wok. Use a good piece of cookware that has the same important properties, like a really heavy skillet.

I still tell people to try a recipe once to get a taste of something, then do what they want to it. It’s important to start from a position of knowledge before you improvise. Of course, that’s really directed toward professionals. To a home cook, I say have a great time. Do what you can do with what’s there. Be inspired by the techniques and by the ingredients and cook simply.

Q: With your latest book, “Asian Noodles,” you’ve expanded your cooking beyond China for the first time. You’ve traveled all over Asia for years. What took you so long?

A: As a cook, I became interested in other Asian cuisines as I traveled more and more, long before “Asian Noodles.” For a cookbook, however, I felt that one trip to a country wasn’t enough for me to say, “Oh, here I am, this authority.” It took a certain period before I felt comfortable enough to broaden my spectrum in print.

Q: So your cooking changed over the years.

A: Well, when I first came back from Taiwan, I would cook multi-course banquets for people. Now if you come to my house to eat, I’ll cook meal-in-one dishes and feel that you’re lucky to get that. I’m telling you the truth. Call it maturity. Call it self-confidence. I’ve simplified.

CHINESE CHICKEN BROTH

This broth will keep in the refrigerator up to a week.

3 1/2 pounds chicken bones, necks, backs and/or pieces

9 cups water

1 cup Chinese rice wine or sake

6 slices ginger root about the size of a quarter, lightly smashed with flat side of knife

Combine chicken bones, water, rice wine and ginger in large pot and bring to boil. Reduce heat to low and simmer, uncovered, 1 1/2 hours, skimming surface to remove any foam or impurities.

Strain broth through fine strainer into bowl or pot. Skim to remove any fat. Alternatively, cool and refrigerate broth, then remove solidified fat.

6 cups. Each 1/4 cup:

24 calories; 7 mg sodium; 6 mg cholesterol; 1 gram fat; 0 carbohydrates; 2 grams protein; 0 fiber.

FRESH SHRIMP ROLLS

This is Simonds’ take on Vietnamese spring rolls. They are traditionally made with both pork and shrimp.

6 ounces thin rice stick noodles

Hot water

1 pound medium shrimp

2 large carrots, peeled and grated

3/4 cup fresh Thai holy basil or sweet basil leaves, finely shredded

1/3 cup fresh cilantro leaves, coarsely chopped

3 tablespoons fish sauce

Juice of 2 limes

1 to 2 small jalapen~o peppers, seeded and chopped

2 1/2 tablespoons sugar

24 round rice paper wrappers (about 8 inches in diameter)

1 to 2 heads Boston lettuce or 1 large head leaf lettuce, leaves separated, rinsed and dried, and tough center ribs trimmed

Peanut Sauce

Soften rice noodles in hot water, then cook in water until just tender. Rinse under cold water and drain. Cut noodles into 3-inch lengths.

Poach shrimp in water until pink. Remove, cool, peel, slice in half lengthwise and devein.

Combine noodles, carrots, basil and cilantro in bowl. Add fish sauce, lime juice, jalapen~os and sugar and toss lightly to coat.

Fill wide shallow pan with hot water and spread dish towel out on work surface. Dip 1 rice wrapper in water until softened, about 3 seconds, and place on towel. Place 1 lettuce leaf on lower 1/3 of rice wrapper. Spoon scant 1/4 cup noodle mixture onto lettuce. Arrange shrimp halves next to each other on mixture and roll up leaf into cylinder, tucking in ends as you go.

Place roll on platter and cover with damp towel to prevent wrapper from drying out. Repeat with remaining rice wrappers, noodles and shrimp.

Serve with Peanut Sauce.

24 rolls. Each roll, without dipping sauces:

66 calories; 125 mg sodium; 19 mg cholesterol; 0 fat; 13 grams carbohydrates; 3 grams protein; 0.13 gram fiber.

PEANUT SAUCE

Simonds sometimes makes this sauce into a spicy salad dressing by thinning it with water. Refrigerated in a covered container, it will keep up to a week. Hoisin sauce is available in Asian grocery stores and most markets.

1/4 cup hoisin sauce

2 tablespoons smooth peanut butter

1 1/2 teaspoons tomato paste

1 teaspoon sugar

1/3 cup water

1 teaspoon safflower or corn oil

1 1/2 teaspoons minced garlic

1 teaspoon crushed red pepper

Combine hoisin sauce, peanut butter, tomato paste, sugar and water in small bowl and stir until smooth.

Heat small heavy saucepan over high heat. Add oil and heat until hot, about 20 seconds. Add garlic and crushed red pepper and stir-fry until fragrant, about 5 seconds. Stir in peanut butter mixture and cook 3 to 4 minutes. Serve warm or at room temperature.

About 3/4 cup. Each tablespoon:

31 calories; 526 mg sodium; 0 cholesterol; 2 grams fat; 3 grams carbohydrates; 1 gram protein; 0.24 gram fiber.

CURRIED VEGETARIAN NOODLES

“Singapore,” “is a haven for lovers of noodles of all kinds, since every ethnic variety is available there. You can eat noodles from dawn to dusk from the thousands of food stalls strewn about the city. I first tasted a version of this dish in a hole-in-the-wall shop in one of the city’s foremost centers. It was studded with shrimp and barbecued pork.

“Inspired by the superb mix of flavors, I created this vegetarian version with red onions, bell peppers and Chinese cabbage, all lightly dusted with curry powder and seasoned generously with garlic and ginger.”

1 1/2 tablespoons minced garlic

1 tablespoon minced ginger root

1 1/2 tablespoons curry powder, preferably Madras

1 1/2 tablespoons safflower or corn oil

2 1/2 cups very thinly sliced red onions

2 cups thinly sliced red bell peppers

4 cups thinly sliced nappa cabbage

1/4 cup Chinese Chicken Broth or canned chicken vegetable broth

3 tablespoons soy sauce

1/2 teaspoon sugar

1 teaspoon salt

1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

1/2 pound thin rice stick noodles or vermicelli, softened in hot water and drained

Mix garlic, ginger and curry powder into paste.

Heat wok or heavy skillet over high heat. Add oil and heat until very hot, about 30 seconds. Add curry paste and stir-fry until fragrant, about 10 seconds.

Add red onions and stir-fry until barely tender, about 1 minute. Add red bell peppers and stir-fry 1 minute, then add cabbage and cook until peppers and cabbage are crisp-tender, 2 to 3 minutes.

Mix chicken broth, soy sauce, sugar, salt and pepper. Add to skillet with noodles and carefully toss to mix. Cook, stirring, 30 seconds. Transfer to serving dish and serve hot or at room temperature.

6 Servings. Each serving:

219 calories; 940 mg sodium; 0 cholesterol; 4 grams fat; 44 grams carbohydrates; 3 grams protein; 0.93 gram fiber.

(BEGIN TEXT OF INFOBOX / INFOGRAPHIC)

Books by Nina Simonds

“Chinese Seasons” (Houghton Mifflin, 1986), “China’s Food” (HarperCollins, 1990), “Classic Chinese Cuisine” (Chapters Publishing, 1994),”China Express” (William Morrow, 1993), “Asian Noodles” (Hearst Books, 1997).

Books by Huang Su Huei Translated by Nina Simonds: “Chinese Cuisine” (Wei-Chuan Publishing, 1974), “Chinese Cuisine (2)” (Wei-Chuan Publishing, 1974) and “Chinese Snacks” (Wei-Chuan Publishing, 1976).