Let's Talk About Congee
5 Reasons I Need To Talk To You About Congee
Photo of chao by Hue Hoang
Karen’s congee incident leaves me with a bad taste in my mouth.
The weather is shifting to cooler temperatures so it's a great time to start thinking about incorporating warmer foods. I, personally, eat congee 1-3x a week even in the Summer!
Food is connection to ourselves, each other and our ancestors.
When I see someone try to erase us, it is a reminder to continue to highlight our voices and our stories.
Learning about cultural similarities and variances builds connections that we need to see among Asians living in Western countries.
The word “congee”, according to wikipedia originates from the Tamil term, kanji referring to rice porridge or gruel. Growing up whenever someone was sick in our household, my grandmother or my mom made ám-bê (in Hokkien dialect). It was so bland and so plain, the most un-fun thing to eat! In the past, congee gave me memories of being sick, unlike other foods that we grew up eating and had fond memories of. When I moved out on my own for college, I always gravitated to Chinatown because I was uncomfortable eating in non-Asian restaurants. I remember seeing that in Chinatown, people ate congee from restaurants with you tiao (fried dough), duck, pork, fish, abalone —different from the bland version I grew up with. At first I was confused as to why someone would go to a restaurant to eat “sick food” but I soon realized that for many of us, we find home in our familiar foods. I also recalled the first time I visited Cambodia, when I was traveling alone, that congee was offered on the breakfast menu and ordered it for comfort. I was so surprised to find it was flavored with delicious chicken broth. Today my favorite toppings are: century egg, pork floss, curry balls, you tiao and green onions.
When white acupuncturist, Karen Taylor, was recently called out for her offensive congee brand…
It brought up a lot of things up for me. The first most obvious was just the exhaustion over yet another incident of cultural appropriation, commodification and disrespect. It also had me feeling really pissed at the acupuncture profession as I flashed back to all the ways we were taught to commodify the culture in acupuncture school. If I’m not mistaken there were more than a handful of my classmates who wanted to do something similar with congee when it was talked about in class. It was even encouraged by professors. The difference, hopefully, was that they realized it was inappropriate and disrespectful and did not go through with it. This is the process of reflection and unlearning.
Something else that really got to me in all this was reading the comments from Asian American folx in response to Karen’s empty apology and hearing and feeling their pain. The pain of how white supremacy keeps us (Asians living in North America), feeling like perpetual foreigners, disconnected to our mother lands, languages, people and each other all the while our elderly family members are being attacked on the streets in major cities around the US so that people like Karen Taylor can talk about how she discovered the magical benefits of congee but just needed to adjust its flavoring to be more palatable to people like her - narrow-minded and disrespectful. Karen has since deleted her apology —like I said, it was empty! And instead of stopping her harmful actions she decided to delete some offensive phrases here and there from her website, while also deleting the voices of the folx that called her out and go on, business as usual. Erasure really hits me differently lately. Microaggressions are micro because the act itself occurs in a micro setting, but the impact and violence it holds is always macro.
In response, I also saw a lot of Asian folx feel inclined to share images of their congee on social media and it prompted me to ask some of the members of my community to tell me more about their congees.
Photo by Sokunthary Svay, CALAA members enjoying babaw
Kyung Nam Lee, Acupuncturist, Herbalist and East Asian Medicine practitioner makes the same jook as her mom did when she was a kid. She recalls her mother adding “a lot of water to leftover rice and cooking it down until it was the consistency of porridge. It could be blended so that it would lose any semblance of rice. She [her mother] would have a small bowl of soy sauce, sesame oil and sesame seeds to add to the jook so that it wasn't completely bland —she would let you customize it.” As many people talk about eating congee while sick, Lee also mentions, “When we weren't sick, she [her mother] would make black sesame jook or pine nut jook” for breakfast. Nowadays, she says “My husband will make jook with chicken stock, little bits of meat and green onion for a heartier dish.” For Lee, a first generation Korean American, “Jook symbolizes love and care. My kids don't appreciate it as much and find the dish to be too mushy, but I still love it.” I too, did not appreciate it at a young age, so I hope her children hang onto those memories!
E.M., Malaysian-Chinese American writer/actor tells me, “Oh, congee is my childhood! We'd call it jook which is Cantonese. It's so warm, comforting, and nostalgic. I always loved my jook savoury with fried anchovies and peanuts, scallions, eggs, and other delicious little things. We'd have it for dim sum, when I felt sick, or whenever we had a craving for it. Haven't had it in a long time actually, but I know you can always get a good bowl of it at a dim sum restaurant.”
Photo of babaw by Sokunthary Svay
Sokunthary Svay, Khmer poet, librettist and teacher describes babaw as more of a gruel. She tells me there are two kinds, “Soggy rice and water accompanied fish, as a side” and a version that is flavored with garlic, shredded chicken with toppings. “It ends up being about the toppings” she says. “Eaten for breakfast or as a go to when you’re sick.” Some of the toppings she mentions are “preserved cabbage, salted soy beans, green onions, and condiments like sriracha.” Svay tells me about how its made by roasting the rice before cooking it and sauteing garlic and chicken broth then shredded chicken and a squeeze of lime with some herbs. She describes babaw is “not as thick as congee, its slightly soupy.” She even goes on to say its “not my favorite thing, really! I feel bad for saying that”. She then explains, “what stands out to me about it is, I don’t make it. I’ve never made it but it’s the thing that Soya (her kid) loves. My mom makes it for them, and Soya, a picky eater requests it at age 14. When they say, ‘I miss Yay’s soup’, it warms my heart.’” Another important note about babaw that Svay mentions is “During the Khmer Rouge, when they were starving people, they were given rice gruel to eat —porridge with a few grains of rice, meanwhile exporting most of the rice that they were forcing people to grow, out of the country.”
Dr. Manny Saini Samra, Chiropractor and Indocanadian spoke with me about kheer, which she says is the closest thing she can think of in her culture to congee. She explains to me that it “is a traditional Northern India (Punjab) dish yet very simple - rice pudding which is made of milk, rice and sugar. We have it for dessert and its often served at the Gurdwara (temple) as well. Most families make it at home too - we had it a lot during our wedding. Some people add tapioca pearls, nuts and Cardamom to it too for extra flavour.”
Adela Gusta Effendy, social worker, DEI consultant and writer, talked to me about her mother’s bubur ayam, a chicken congee eaten in Indonesia. She says “The chicken itself is simmered in a spiced broth, then shredded (some folks like to fry it up before shredding it), and can be served with a number of things: fried peanuts, shallots, fresh scallion and cilantro, sambal (chili sauce), kerupuk udang (shrimp crackers) - or really, any type of Indonesian crackers, and Chinese crullers.”
Effendy, a first generation, Indonesian Muslim American born and raised in Queens, NY, recalls memories of bubur ayam saying, “it was comfort food for my brother and I, especially when sick. My mother would always make this for us to help nurse us back to health.” Most recently, she says “After the birth of my two children, my mother would come over the house and drop off two things for me to eat: bubur ayam and kacang hijau (mung bean soup). My mother would cook both for me and drop off the food for me every week - for the next 6-8 weeks! Of course, there were other things I was eating while recovering from birth and to help with lactation, but I firmly believe that the warmth of bubur ayam, its soft texture, along with its spices, supported both my mental health (knowing that my mother was around and also sharing healing practices and foods after birth) and physical health during such a delicate period.”
Photo of Roasted Rice Congee by Hue Hoang.
Being born and raised in different places than our previous generations, we can easily feel disconnected. Effendy, says “There are days when I crave bubur ayam and although I have my mother's recipe - I can't quite make it like her. I'll connect with her and ask her to make it for myself and my family; and she'll never hesitate to make sure we have what we need. Part of what makes bubur ayam so special is also our connection to my family, my mother and her homeland of Indonesia.”
Hue Hoang, a Registered Acupuncturist and Massage Therapist in Canada, explains to me, “in Vietnamese, congee is called cháo.” Hoang, who is a second generation Vietnamese-Canadian, describes to me a “plain congee of roasted white rice, ginger, green onions, salt and pepper” that her parents prepared when she was “sick or lacked an appetite.” She also explains that toppings are added when the cháo was eaten as a meal. Hoang mentions “My favourite way of eating it is congee served with the Chinese cruller doughnuts – the crisp cruller chunks combined with the smooth, silky congee is such an ecstatic experience.” She recalls that “Heading into my college years, I made a lot of congee to stretch out my food budget. With the added simplicity of making the dish, I could maximize my studying time while still eat a filling and nutritious meal.” More recently, Hoang says cháo “is a way to reconnect with my heritage and listen to their [her parents’] stories. Congee is malleable, adaptable and everyone can enjoy it one way or another – robust and savoury, or even as a lightly sweetened dessert.”
By Jenny Ahn: Jook topped with lion's mane sauteed with garlic, and sprinkled with black sesame paste and red dates.
Jenny Ahn, East Asian Medicine Practitioner & Ayurvedic Postpartum Doula, recalls watching her mother and grandmother “cook jook growing up, and to this day I watch my mother use leftover rice and some water, cooking it down to a soupy porridge to enjoy for breakfast.” Ahn, second generation Korean American, explains that “jook is her go to if her digestion is acting up knowing that a simple rice porridge like jook is healing and beneficial for a sensitive stomach. I was fed jook as a child when I was sick, and it is from her I learned to care and cook for myself using the foods and medicine indigenous to our ancestors for nourishment and healing.” She also explains that “when I think of jook, I think of how my ancestors healed themselves, and the generational wisdom that has been passed down to our family as we continue to heal and nourish ourselves.” Ahn so graciously shares her family’s recipe below.
MAMA’S JOOK RECIPE
You'll need:
1 Cup of Cooked Rice ( could be left over rice from the rice pot)
2-3 Cups of Water (Or Bone Broth for extra nourishment)
Salt
Pepper
How to:
Cook the rice and water ( or bone broth) on high until it boils.
Then turn it down to low and simmer. Make sure to stir it while it simmers until it reaches the consistency of a moist, oatmeal like consistency.
Add salt and pepper to taste
* I like to top it with shredded seaweed, fermented umeboshi plums or kimchi, and drizzled with a tablespoon of toasted sesame oil and sesame seeds.
To sum it all up…
My weekly congee with curry fish balls and you tiao
Hoang said this so beautifully, “Congee holds a special place in my heart. I imagine each bite as a love letter from the cook to the recipient —well wishes of good health, a full and happy belly, and love are poured into the dish to create a delicious and satisfying meal. Congee, to me, is a symbol of resilience and compassion. In the past, during times of famine, when rice or a harvest was scarce, congee would be a way to stretch out the rice rations —to feed a community, a nation. No one left behind. It's humbling that a simple dish can hold such power. Not to mention, the fact that anyone and everyone can make it. Every family's congee has a unique flair with that special seasoning or topping. Each person has their preference as well —sweet versus salty, clumpy versus runny, etc. I am forever grateful to this dish that has kept my ancestors alive and honoured to learn different variations of congee and pass on the joys of eating, connecting and compassion to my family and community.”
Thanks to my community of contributors:
Kyuang Nam Lee, Acupuncturist, Herbalist, East Asian Medicine Practitioner @seed_acupuncture_wellness
E.M. Writer, Actor @lrc.nyc
Sokunthary Svay, Khmer poet, Librettist, Teacher @sokun.svay
Dr. Manny Saini Samra, Doctor of Chiropractic @chirobyday
Adela Gusta Effendy, Licensed Social Worker, DEI Consultant, Lecturer, writer, poet, mom LinkedIn @adela.ekhan
Hue Hoang, Registered Acupuncturist, Massage Therapist @wei.of.wellness
Jenny Ahn, East Asian Medicine Practitioner, Ayurvedic Postpartum Doula @jennyahnwellness
By Stories compiled by Dr. Emily Grace Siy, DACM on September 13, 2021