That One Dish Spotlight, No. 10: Hsiao-Ching Chou
A conversation with Seattle-based food journalist, author, and cooking instructor on her new book, "Feasts of Fortune" + raising a multicultural family
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Happy Wednesday, all—it’s been quite a while since we last had a proper Q&A, and I’m excited to start off our first of the year with Hsiao-Ching Chou, a woman of incredible range. She’s a Seattle-based food journalist and cooking instructor (folklore is written about her famed potstickers) who also made a notable impact in the food media landscape having served as the chair of the James Beard Foundation’s book awards committee. (And on top of that, she’s raising a family and working a 9-5 in UX marketing at a major tech powerhouse).
Hsiao-Ching has penned two cookbooks, “Chinese Soul Food” (2018) and “Vegetarian Chinese Soul Food” (2022), that focused on simple, everyday cooking, and taught us how to create comforting, soul-nourishing Chinese dishes at home. Her third and latest release, “Feasts of Fortune,” though, is what truly brings her work full circle.
At its heart, it’s a family project; it was co-written with her college-age daughter, Meilee Chou Riddle (we’ll learn more about her later), and features the unique, hyphenated foods that make up their lively, multicultural family, in addition to the dishes surrounding each of the Chinese holidays they unfailingly celebrate each year. Hsiao-Ching describes their perspective on food as a kaleidoscope—“turn it one way, you’ll get our family’s Chinese roots. Turn it again, you’ll taste Taiwan. A few more degrees around the scope, and the Pacific Northwest shows up.” This is a tale of the Chou-Riddles’ lives as a mixed-race, Chinese-American family living in Seattle, a city already known for its diverse food culture. Hsiao-Ching’s recipes and adhesion to tradition honor their Chinese heritage, but from Meilee’s perspective—conveyed in the form of short, but thoughtfully-written essays dispersed throughout the book—we learn her candid thoughts on growing up a mixed-race kid, and just how she’ll take the food traditions she was raised with into the next stage of adulthood.
“Passing on traditions requires someone to receive them with intention,” Hsiao-Ching writes in the book’s introduction. “It’s also the responsibility of the bearer to invite the next generation into the narrative, to make space for the perspectives of those who will carry on our histories.” Here, “Feasts of Fortune” explores the profound role food plays in preserving the stories of those who came before us while creating a living legacy that continues to inform the future generation.
Read on for my conversation with Hsiao-Ching about her working dynamic with Meilee on this book project, what cooking and eating looked like in a multicultural household, and—of course—that one dish that encapsulates her experiences growing up in the Midwest as a Taiwanese-American.
This Friday, paid subscribers will be receiving notes from my conversation with Meilee, which includes her perspective in putting together this book. If you’ve been loving “That One Dish” so far, please consider upgrading your subscription to paid—you’ll receive bonus recipes, as well as supplemental content to Wednesday dispatches. Crafting this newsletter is a labor of love, and your support is what keeps the lights on and this operation running smoothly. Thank you very much in advance.
What was it about the idea of family feasts, gatherings, and celebrations that inspired you? And, after having penned two other cookbooks, what informed your decision to get Meilee involved with your third?
There wasn’t a contemporary cookbook about the foods and traditions of key Chinese holidays. We wanted to share our Chinese American perspective on these holidays—plus other celebrations like birthdays. When you pass on traditions, you need people to actively receive the knowledge. I wanted to be intentional about creating the space for me and Meilee to have a shared experience and conversation. It was important to me that Meilee represent her generation’s voice and perspective.
How do you feel like your relationship with your daughter evolved, if at all, throughout the process of putting together this book? What was your working dynamic like?
The book process has taken two years. (Meilee was 16 years old when we started and now she’s 18). For a teen, there’s so much growth that happens in two years. It’s been my pride and joy to observe Meilee mature and experience many milestones: finishing senior year in high school, graduating, leading significant projects at school, getting recognized for her work, collaborating with me on the book, learning what it takes to deliver a book. As a parent, I wanted to know that Meilee could be a functioning, responsible adult. And working together on this book meant we could discover the ways Meilee will, indeed, be able transition into “adulting” in a meaningful way.
Are there any favorite recipes in the book? How did you decide which ones to put in your recipe list?
It’s hard to pick just one favorite recipe. It’s more about technique. I love making stir-fries, because they’re fast and flexible. Whatever is in the fridge can go into a stir-fry. With a pot of fresh rice, we’ve got a meal.
In your book’s introduction, you speak of having been born in Taipei but raised in the Midwest—and now living in Seattle. I found you mentioning that, the older you get, the “further away” you feel from the place you were born to be really interesting. Can you elaborate more on this?
My roots are in Taipei, but because I left when I was a toddler, I don’t have core memories of the time and place. We didn’t have much community in Columbia, Missouri, so we had to create our own cultural touchpoints—which is different from being immersed in a place where everyone has similar cultural experiences. It’s easy to get lax on traditions when no one else around you is practicing them. So, I have to be intentional about staying connected and rooted in the culture and practice of a place.
What did cooking and eating look like in your home, particularly with respect to raising mixed-race children and living in the Pacific Northwest for as long as you have?
Our philosophy for cooking and feeding our family has centered on minimizing over-processed foods, cooking as much as possible from whole ingredients, keeping meals accessible for our varied palates and preferences. Of course, when the kids were little, we packed Cheerios, Goldfish, and graham crackers for snacks. Truth be told, we still keep those snacks in the house (LOL). In a given week, we might have stir-fry, pizza or burgers, teriyaki, sushi, Japanese curry, carnitas tacos, or takeout from a Thai or Vietnamese restaurant. When in season, we might have Copper River salmon or we’ll go crabbing for Dungeness crab.
How did you strike that balance between keeping to your family’s Chinese roots, but also leaning into that “hyphenated”/multicultural way of cooking?
It’s not regimented. We think about what we feel like eating and what we have in the house. I do stock a lot of Asian vegetables and other dried ingredients, so it’s easy to spin up a Chinese meal. We also have a well-stocked spice drawer and freezer, so we really could go in any number of directions.
What's one dish that captures who you are as someone born in Taiwan and grew up in the United States? Something that best encompasses your life, your experiences, your existence—without thinking of what's authentic, what dish is the most "you?"
Taiwanese beef noodle soup is a dish that comes to mind.
How do you make it, and when did you first have it? Are there any specific memories associated with that dish?
I braise beef shank in a liquid flavored with soy sauce, scallions, ginger, garlic, star anise, dried red chile, Sichuan pepper, a touch of rock sugar, and maybe a few other spices depending on my mood. Once the meat is tender and the broth is rich, it gets combined with noodles and condiments (chopped pickled Chinese mustard greens, scallions, cilantro, chili sauce). So good. I can’t remember the very first time I had it. It’s just a part of life. The first time we went back to Taipei for a visit, we went to a beef noodle soup restaurant. I was in the fifth grade. I remember feeling like I had connected with a memory—even though I had never been to that restaurant.
Responses have been edited for clarity.