{"product_id":"salt-sugar-msg-isbn-9780593582084","title":"Salt Sugar MSG","description":"\u003cb\u003eThe chef behind the groundbreaking Brooklyn restaurant \u003cb\u003eBonnie’s shares over 85 recipes that showcase his unique style of Chinese home cooking, a mash-up of Americana and Cantonese classics inspired by the flavors of his childhood.\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e“Calvin Eng draws on traditional Cantonese techniques and the mixing of Cantonese and American flavors that reflect our own experience. And he does it with a verve and creativity that make us want to run to the kitchen and start cooking!”—Sarah, Kaitlin, Bill, and Judy Leung, \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling authors of \u003ci\u003eThe Woks of Life\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003eA \u003ci\u003eNEW YORK TIMES\u003c\/i\u003e BEST COOKBOOK OF THE YEAR\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAs an American-born Cantonese kid, chef Calvin Eng grew up watching his mother, Bonnie, in the kitchen. Though he shied away from his culture as a kid, he later grew to love and embrace his upbringing, eventually opening Bonnie’s, which was praised as a top restaurant of the year by the \u003ci\u003eNew York Times \u003c\/i\u003eand \u003ci\u003eBon Appétit.\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eSalt Sugar MSG\u003c\/i\u003e is an introduction to Cantonese cooking through an American lens, full of easy flavor boosts and practical tricks, drawing a thread from his mother’s cooking to what Calvin cooks for his own family today. Some recipes stick closer to tradition, like \u003cb\u003eSizzling Steamed Fish with Seasoned Soy Sauce, Ham Yue Yook Beng (Steamed Pork Patty with Salted Fish),\u003c\/b\u003e and \u003cb\u003eGinger Congee,\u003c\/b\u003e while others upend expectations, like \u003cb\u003eSalt \u0026amp; Pepper Pork Schnitzel with Chinese Ranch, Fuyu Cacio e Pepe Mein,\u003c\/b\u003e and \u003cb\u003eBLT Fried Rice.\u003c\/b\u003e While these dishes may not look especially Cantonese at first glance, they certainly taste like it. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWritten with his fiancée, Phoebe Melnick, \u003ci\u003eSalt Sugar MSG\u003c\/i\u003e is full of personal stories and practical tips and tricks as a loving ode to what it means to cook together as a Cantonese American family today.“Calvin Eng draws on traditional Cantonese techniques and the mixing of Cantonese and American flavors that reflect our own experience. And he does it with a verve and creativity that make us want to run to the kitchen and start cooking!”\u003cb\u003e—Sarah, Kaitlin, Bill, and Judy Leung, \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling authors of \u003ci\u003eThe Woks of Life: Recipes to Know and Love from a Chinese American Family\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“\u003ci\u003eSalt Sugar MSG\u003c\/i\u003e is a triumphant celebration of home and family, showcasing Calvin’s inventive approach to cooking that breathes new life into classic Cantonese dishes. Most of all, the book perfectly captures the bold spirit and generosity of Cantonese American cooking.”\u003cb\u003e—Hetty Lui McKinnon, food writer and James Beard Award–winning author of five cookbooks\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“So much of Chef Eng’s book resonates with my own experience as an immigrant from Canton. Thoughtful, personal, and joyful, it’s a wonderful read as well as a handy guide in the kitchen.”\u003cb\u003e—Chef Martin Yan, host of \u003ci\u003eYan Can Cook\u003c\/i\u003e on PBS\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“In this debut cookbook, Brooklyn-born chef Calvin Eng delightfully weaves stories of growing up in New York’s Chinatown eating and learning to cook his mother’s humble Toisan dishes with his culinary path to develop his own distinct style, adding a fresh twist to Cantonese classics. With his inventive fusion of modern and traditional ingredients—what he affectionately calls a ‘mishmash of identities’—Eng contributes a vibrant chapter to the ever-evolving narrative of multicultural American cuisine.”\u003cb\u003e—Grace Young, James Beard Award–winning author of \u003ci\u003eStir-Frying to the Sky’s Edge\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“This book is more than just breaking the misrepresentation of MSG—it’s about the delicious places that live in between American and Chinese traditions.”\u003cb\u003e—Brandon Jew, executive chef and owner of Mister Jiu’s and author of James Beard Award–winning \u003ci\u003eMister Jiu’s in Chinatown\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Everything from the title, the mouthwatering recipes, the stunning photography, and warm writing feels like a homecoming. \u003ci\u003eSalt Sugar MSG\u003c\/i\u003e is an important cookbook that will add so much inspiration, nostalgia, and flavor to your kitchen.”\u003cb\u003e—Kristina Cho, James Beard Award–winning cookbook author of \u003ci\u003eMooncakes \u0026amp; Milk Bread\u003c\/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003eChinese Enough\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“\u003ci\u003eSalt Sugar MSG \u003c\/i\u003ereads like a reflection of my own life experiences as a Chinese American. The writing spoke so genuinely to what life was like for so many of us that it felt like Calvin was at times telling \u003ci\u003ethe\u003c\/i\u003e story as opposed to just his own. The recipes are as effortlessly rooted in identity as they are effortlessly clever and full of a love of eating.”\u003cb\u003e—Jon Kung, author of \u003ci\u003eKung Food\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“As a third-culture kid myself, growing up between worlds, I’ve always felt a recognition and kinship with Calvin and his food. His ‘not-traditional-but-personal’ mashups and twists on Canto classics are approachable yet revelatory, pushing Chinese cuisine further within our collective culture.”\u003cb\u003e—Jing Gao, founder and CEO of Fly By Jing, author of James Beard Award–winning \u003ci\u003eThe Book of Sichuan Chili Crisp\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cb\u003eCalvin Eng\u003c\/b\u003e is the chef and owner of Bonnie’s, a Cantonese American restaurant in Williamsburg. Brooklyn-born and raised in a traditional Chinese family, Eng had been dreaming of opening a restaurant for a decade when he realized how important it was for him to pursue Cantonese food and dive deeper into the dishes of his heritage. Bonnie’s has been praised in the \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eThe New Yorker\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eNew York\u003c\/i\u003e magazine, \u003ci\u003eEater\u003c\/i\u003e, and \u003ci\u003eBon Appétit\u003c\/i\u003e. Eng is a James Beard Emerging Chef finalist, \u003ci\u003eFood \u0026amp; Wine\u003c\/i\u003e Best New Chef, \u003ci\u003eForbes\u003c\/i\u003e 30 under 30 recipient, StarChefs Rising Star, and two-time James Beard Best Chef: New York State Semifinalist.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003ePhoebe Melnick \u003c\/b\u003eis a video journalist with a deep love of storytelling and food. She has worked for the \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e, Martha Stewart, Food Network, Thrillist, and \u003ci\u003eFood \u0026amp; Wine,\u003c\/i\u003e where she first met Calvin on set in 2016. The two have been inseparable ever since.\u003cb\u003eIntroduction\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThis is not a Cantonese cookbook. Not in the traditional sense, at least.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI grew up surrounded by a family chitchatting in a seamless mix of Toisanese and English, with bits of Cantonese scattered throughout, never speaking in the same language for more than a few words. Honestly, my Toisanese has always been significantly better than my Cantonese. It’s a dying dialect that often wins me an extra egg tart from the ladies behind the counter at my favorite bakery—a hint of street cred with the old crowd—a slow, sneaky smile. They aren’t used to hearing anyone under the age of fifty speak it. But everyone in my family does. It’s the dialect of Toisan, a county in the Guangdong Province in southeast China—the place where both sides of my family originated. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMy mom was barely thirteen years old when she immigrated to New York with her sister and brother. She met her dad for the very first time when they landed in the city. He had moved to Manhattan’s Chinatown in the hope that one day the whole family would be able to join him before she was even born. It took a bit longer than anyone had anticipated, but my mom, her parents, and her two siblings settled into a one-bedroom apartment on the center of Bayard Street at the heart of the neighborhood. It was impossibly tiny; a clawfoot bathtub filled the middle of the kitchen and a broken oven stood in the corner, serving only as extra storage. My mom and her sister slept in a bunk bed, a somewhat sturdy contraption my grandfather pulled together to squish as many people as possible into one bedroom. Her brother slept in the kitchen on a pull-out cot that was tucked away the second his eyes opened each morning. Anything to keep the family together under one roof. My grandparents stayed in that place for over fifty years. They made Chinatown their home. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMy mom lived on Bayard Street until she met my father when she was twenty-four. Almost a decade after moving to the States. When they married, he whisked her away to south Brooklyn, to the neighborhood his family now lived in after moving from those same tiny villages in southern China her family had once called home. But weekend after weekend, she dutifully and diligently returned to Chinatown. She dropped in to run errands for my grandparents and bring them groceries, to take them to doctors’ appointments and occasionally out to lunch. For years, she took my older sister around the neighborhood with her, and eventually, when I was old enough, she dragged me along too. I’d sit curled up on the couch, coloring on pads of paper while my mom, aunt, and grandma caught up on the weekly gossip. More often than not, though, they spent those hours sitting in silence, enjoying their time together again under the same roof. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIt’s embarrassing to admit now, but I hated that apartment when I was younger. That space and those blocks felt like the physical representation of everything that made me different, a constant reminder of my not-so-traditional American upbringing. Different from the kids at school whose moms packed them buttered noodles and peanut butter and jelly for lunch. Now I desperately miss it all. The space where I learned to play mahjong with my grandma on the tiny foldout table. The kitchen I snacked on fresh rice rolls stuffed with slivers of marinated steak drenched in sweet soy with my grandfather and fried bow ties dripping in a sticky honey syrup with my aunt. The early weekend mornings I chased my mom up and down and all around Chinatown while she grocery shopped, navigating the sidewalks cluttered with fruit stalls as she dodged aunties who lugged their rolling-book-bags-turned-shopping-carts with ease. The neighborhood lined with restaurants we packed into weekend after weekend, celebrating birthdays and weddings, new lives and those who were no longer with us. Celebrating each other. Celebrating family. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThat’s the funny thing about growing up. Sometimes you never truly understand how lucky and full your life is until you get a little older—until you have a little distance. I was so envious of those “more American” kids for years, practically up until I hit my twenties. By then, I had graduated from culinary school and taken a job at a restaurant on the edge of Chinatown. Suddenly I found myself hand-shopping for fresh vegetables and jars of condiments the way my mom had taught me years before, speaking Toisanese in the shops I had grown up frequenting, strolling down the blocks my grandparents had once roamed daily. Now, I walked those streets for inspiration rather than obligation, for appreciation rather than resentment. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA few years later, that same inspiration morphed into something more concrete: a restaurant—my restaurant, which I named Bonnie’s in honor of the American name my aunt chose for my mom when they first moved to New York City from Hong Kong. A restaurant for kids who grew up a little confused about their identities and where they fit into the world, like me. A restaurant for kids who are now proud of their heritage, like me. A restaurant dedicated to my Cantonese roots and my American upbringing. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnd a year or so later, that same appreciation morphed into something more: a cookbook—this cookbook, stuffed with recipes that are deeply rooted in classic Cantonese flavors. Subtle, savory sauces and salty, preserved bites. Steaming trays of fresh fresh seafood served alongside bowls of fluffy jasmine rice. Salt, sugar, MSG and ginger, garlic, scallion.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA book filled with techniques—stir-frying and steaming, velveting meats and sizzling hot oils—from the conventional Cantonese kitchen. A book packed with dishes influenced by more than just my mom’s kitchen in Brooklyn and the roast meat shops lining the blocks of Chinatown, the banquet halls and dim sum parlors—dishes that dip into the melting pot that is New York City. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eEach recipe in this book serves a purpose, from highlighting an essential Cantonese technique to expanding on a flavor or ingredient. Some of the cooking stays relatively true to the classics, minus a few tweaks here and there. The Sizzling Steamed Fish with Seasoned Soy Sauce (page 218) is practically the textbook definition of homey Cantonese cooking. A whole fish, tossed in a tray with a few slivers of ginger and then lightly steamed, finished with a hit of seasoned soy and a drizzle of sizzling hot oil to caramelize the fresh ginger and scallions scattered over top. This was a dish my mom made twice if not three times a week—a weeknight staple from my childhood that still excites and inspires me, that I crave and think about on the regular. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOther recipes don’t look especially Cantonese but certainly taste that way. Take the recipe for BLT Fried Rice (page 140). Heavily inspired by a regular old BLT, this fried rice really is an amalgamation of Cantonese and American flavors and techniques. Chunks of smoky, thick-cut American bacon stud this ultra-classic Cantonese-style fried rice. Seasoned simply with salt, sugar, and MSG and plumped up in the leftover bacon grease, the glistening grains of rice are the star of the show. There’s no drizzle of soy sauce to stain the rice at the end. Instead it’s finished with just a handful of shredded lettuce and some juicy, fresh, acidic tomatoes, and a squeeze of Kewpie mayo to tie it all together. It’s a true mishmash of identities—kind of like me. I’m not cooking with Cantonese flavors as some sort of gimmick. I’ve always thought of my cooking as a natural evolution from the food I grew up eating: a little bit of Americana mixed into Cantonese classics along with a heavy dash of nostalgia. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAs a result, \u003ci\u003eSalt Sugar MSG\u003c\/i\u003e could never be a traditional Cantonese cookbook. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIt always had to be Cantonese American.","brand":"Clarkson Potter","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46303816679653,"sku":"NP9780593582084","price":37.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780593582084.jpg?v=1767736067","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/salt-sugar-msg-isbn-9780593582084","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}