A DIM SUM GUIDE; A CULTURAL FLAVOR

This past Monday, the JOY CUISINE teahouse in Guangzhou finally reopened after a month of being closed due to a sudden COVID-19 outbreak in the city.

Prior to the pandemic, my little brother and I used to excitedly draw straws to decide where to eat on Sunday mornings with the whole family. Last week, we decided to enjoy our first dim sum of the month at the JOY CUISINE. 

“What kind of tea do you want to have today?” the hostess asked in Mandarin. She left a menu – where we could check off our desired dining options – on our table.

“A pot of Pounei and a pot of hot water,” my mom replied to her in Cantonese without hesitation. “Fewer people speak Cantonese now. How sad!'' My mom expressed disappointment in her voice when she learned that the new hostess at the JOY CUISINE did not speak Cantonese. 

According to Ethnologue.com, only 73.1 million people worldwide speak Cantonese. When the Chinese government started promoting Mandarin as a civilized language, more and more youngsters near the Pearl River Delta ditched their mother tongue for Mandarin. Guangzhou is known as an inclusive city, with an increasing number of migrant workers coming to seek new opportunities. Therefore, Cantonese – the language of Guangzhou – is gradually spoken less in public.

My mother, a native Cantonese, is an expert when she is talking about dim sum. She enjoys eating at different dim sum restaurants in Guangzhou and recording the best dim sum at each restaurant in her little notebook. She started her BEST DIM SUM RESTAURANT list 15 years ago, based on her picky taste.  

There are multiple dishes on her list: har gow (a shrimp dumpling) with ginseng soup, char siu bao (a barbecue pork bun), phoenix talons (a sweet, slightly spicy chicken feet dish), and beef chow fun ( stir-fried rice noodles with beef). 

From an early age, my mother brought me with her to eat dim sum, and taught me Cantonese culture from different dishes and the traditional etiquette of yum cha (a Cantonese colloquialism for dim sum). Wherever I go to eat, I’m deeply impressed by the special etiquette of cleaning tableware: pick up the teapot, pour the tea into the bowl, put the chopsticks and spoon in the bowl, rinse twice, pour the water from the bowl into the cup, and finally pour the water from the cup into the basin. When eating dim sum with the whole family, I am always responsible for cleaning the tableware for them. According to my mother, this shows that I have good manners. When the pot is running low on water, I will take the lid off and rest it on top of the teapot or to the side of the teapot. There is a wordless connection between waiters and guests. When the waiters pass by, they will notice the teapot and refill it with hot water for diners.

There is an old saying: “The story of dim sum is the story of itinerant people.” Dim sum’s American journey began with the arrival of Cantonese immigrants to California during the mid-19th century Gold Rush. After the federal government eased immigration restrictions on Chinese citizens in 1965, the floodgates of dim sum burst open. Cantonese immigrants not only transported dim sum to the United States, but they also added another cultural flavor to the “melting pot” of America.

Two years ago, I decided to leave my hometown, Guangzhou, and study abroad in the United States. While studying in America, I traveled through and lived in several cities with famous Chinatowns, including San Francisco, Sacramento, Philadelphia, and New York. Drifting from place to place on an unfamiliar continent, I always felt homesick. When I missed my family, I would head to Chinatown to eat dim sum with my friends.

I still remember the time when I felt extremely homesick during my first year studying in Sacramento. During Christmas break, my host family took me to San Francisco – home to the oldest and largest Cantonese-speaking community in the United States – to eat dim sum.

When I entered the teahouse, the Cantonese conversation between the waiters and the elderly diners drew me back to my hometown instantly. Every etiquette was encoded in my mind. When I sat down at the round table, I immediately cleaned all the tableware for my host family. What touched the bottom of my heart in the teahouse was the tradition of serving food with push carts.  

When I asked for dishes off of the cart in Cantonese, I felt deeply connected to my childhood, to my family, and to my hometown.

Looking at the push carts shuttling back and forth, I recalled how I used to entertain myself at traditional dim sum restaurants during my childhood. When I was a little kid, I always kept my eyes on the push cart. Whenever a cart passed by, I would jump on the chair and curiously stick out my head to see whether they had added new dishes. My mom described me as a “greedy” girl because I was never satisfied with the dozen or so steamer baskets on the table. 

Ten years ago, dim sum restaurants were centered around push carts laden with various steamed dumplings and dishes that were placed in steamer baskets. These carts were pushed around the restaurant by different attendants, allowing diners to order directly from the attendants. However, it is rare to see this traditional serving style in modern dim sum restaurants in Guangzhou. Nowadays, dim sum restaurants rely on checklists (like menu cards) instead of push carts.

“You can speak Cantonese fluently,” my host mother said in surprise. “Last time I went to eat dim sum, I went with my Chinese friends who only speak Mandarin. They were not able to explain the Cantonese words on the menu to me.”

Without a cultural context, it is difficult for people who do not speak Cantonese to understand and explain Cantonese words – especially certain dish names – to others. Growing up in a Cantonese culture gave me a unique understanding of my native tongue. I was overtaken by special pride when I saw my host family nod after hearing my vivid descriptions of each dish on the table. Striking up conversations in Cantonese outside my hometown made me feel a strong sense of satisfaction with my cultural identity in a new land.

Inheriting the tradition from my mother, I decided to record the best dim sum in the United States on my newly created “Dim Sum Guide” after my trip in San Francisco. Learning from my mother, I gradually became a dim sum expert like her. Every time I eat dim sum with my American friends, I feel so proud to spread the Cantonese culture – introducing the etiquette of yum cha and giving tips on ordering dim sum – and show them my Dim Sum Guide. 

Even though the hostess at JOY CUISINE doesn't speak Cantonese, I will. I will speak it, spread it, and carry on the tradition, since my Dim Sum Guide not only carries the taste of home, but also adds another meaningful flavor to my journey of studying abroad. Today, there are more than 15 dim sum restaurants in my guide, and I am ready to explore even more in Boston this fall.