HFA Creativity Contest: Prose
This spring, UCSB’s Humanities and Fine Arts Division hosted a creativity contest to highlight creative student voices across the UCSB campus. The following story won first place in the prose category.
1st place winner
A Beginner’s Guide to Sieng Fung Cha: The Cure-all Chinese Medicine
By Claudia Lee
Lonicera japonica Thumb: 5 qian (25 grams), Isatis root: 5 qian (25 grams), Isatis leaf: 25 grams.
My friend Gloria, who’s fluent in Chinese, helped me with the translations because my grandmother wrote the recipe in Chinese.
“You’re a banana, Claudia. Yellow on the outside, white on the inside.” -—My Dad, Chinese Immigrant.
Claudia Lee’s memoir “A Beginner’s Guide to Sieng Fung Cha: The Cure-all Chinese Medicine” took first place in the prose catagory of this year’s HFA Creativity Contest.
As I take my hand out of my pocket to press the flashing doorbell, I exhale and see small white puffs escape my lips. I underestimated how cold it would be in the San Francisco Bay area after spending the fall in New England. Ding dong!
“I’m coming, I’m coming!” My cousin, David, yells as his footsteps grow louder. My dad, mom, Popo (maternal grandmother), sister, and I enter the warm house. Jgen Jgen (paternal grandmother) stands by the doorway. She wears two thick hand-knit sweaters that she made for me and my cousins when we were younger. She forced me to wear one every time I went to her house because she was scared we would catch a cold. Jgen Jgen also wears a puffy vest to insulate her already-heated chest. She greets me with a radiant smile, revealing her fake front tooth. She lost it gnawing on a short rib bone last Christmas eve. We spent a couple of minutes searching the table and floor for her tooth, only to conclude that she swallowed it. She didn’t even notice.
“Jo san, Jgen Jgen,” – good morning Grandma —I say, pulling her into a gentle hug and returning the bright smile. She chuckles, acknowledging that I at least tried to greet her, despite saying “good morning,” when the sun had set hours ago.
“Nei ho ma?”— how are you — she asks, holding onto my hands after I pull away.
“Ho,” I reply, confidently. Good. It’s the easiest Cantonese word to say without messing up.
Jgen Jgen turns her attention to my cold hands. She notices I’m only wearing a thin black sweater dress, a recent hand-me-down from Auntie Ruby. Her smile turns into a slight frown as she notices my bare legs. I’m not wearing sweatpants like she is. I can’t understand everything she says, but I make a decent inference with my limited Cantonese.
“Aiyah... ho dung... sieng fung cha?” Aiyah, so cold! Do you need me to make you some sieng fung cha? I immediately shake my head no.
Artemisia capillaris Thumb: 25 grams, Elsholtzia ciliata: 25 grams, Chrysanthemum: 25 grams, Rhizome: 25 grams, Selfheal: 35 grams
“I don’t do ‘African-American themed’ menus. I am an African-American chef, so if I cook my food, isn’t every menu I create African-American by default?” -Kwame Onwuachi,
American-Nigerian Chef
We have a potluck style Thanksgiving dinner. Auntie Linda and Uncle Kelvin, who host the dinner, cook the turkey and gravy. Auntie Susana brings char siu, Chinese barbecued pork, since we don’t like traditional honey-glazed Thanksgiving ham. Instead of Brussel sprouts, we eat bok choy slathered in an aromatic garlic and sesame oil sauce. Jgen Jgen brings Chinese winter melon and shiitake mushroom simmered in a sweet brown sauce. I’m unsure of the sauce, but I assume it’s oyster sauce. Usually, it’d be a turn off when I bring my ho yao gai lan —Chinese broccoli with oyster sauce — for lunch in high school. My American friends would crinkle their noses and ask, “What is that?” I offer to let them try some, but they quickly refuse. They see oyster sauce as fishy, dark goop while I see it as a delicious salty, sweet flavor enhancer.
Instead of mashed potatoes, my mom brings her signature japchae: a sweet, savory Korean glass noodle dish garnished with green onions, red, yellow, and orange bell peppers, and toasted sesame seeds. I help her in the kitchen so I can have complete control of the soy sauce to sesame oil to sugar ratio in the sauce.
Finally, we enjoy the all-American dessert: store-bought apple pie with vanilla ice cream on the side.
Rough Haired holly root: 5 grams, Artemisia capillaris Thunb: 25 grams, Elsholtzia ciliata: 25 grams, Radix scrophulariae: 25 grams
“Cultural diffusion is NOT the same as cultural appropriation.” -Michael W. Twitty, African-American Jewish writer and culinary historian
Our dinner table is a crossing point of Chinese and American cuisine. Rather than the two weaving to form one thread, they run parallel. Occasionally, however, they cross (or might I say clash) with each other. The contrast between the vibrant, strong-smelling Chinese dishes and the mellow, almost bland, American dishes makes it seem like we are trying to be something we’re not. Sometimes I wish we would cook exclusively our Chinese dishes. The turkey always comes out dry and the store-bought apple pie is overly sweet, even for my sweet tooth. Meanwhile, japchae, bok choy, winter melon with oyster sauce, and char siu are dishes I regularly eat and never get tired of. They feel like home.
Artemisia: 20 grams, Coix seed: 15 grams, Rough Haired holly root: 5 grams, Platycodon grandiflorum: 20 grams
"You want to be the same as American girls on the outside." ... "But inside you must always be Chinese. You must be proud you are different. Your only shame is to have shame." -Amy Tan, Chinese-American writer
During our big Thanksgiving dinners, the parents, grandparents, aunts, and uncles sit around the large, oblong table. My dad usually stirs up an argument about politics among his in-laws to make the dinner more entertaining while my cousins Michael, Michelle, and Crystal, and I all gather around the smaller round table. They usually ask me about boarding school and my college plans. We ask Michelle about how she’s adapted to living in an apartment with roommates. We ask Michael to share his recent trips abroad — he’s always been the most spontaneous. Lastly, we usually interrogate Crystal about her boyfriend Spencer. Her cheeks flush when we ask her the more personal questions since our parents can’t hear her responses. However, tonight’s hot topic is the recent death of Auntie Susan’s cat, Kitty. Crystal, Michelle, and I barely recount the story of her death without tearing up. Michael listens intently; no one told him his mom’s cat died when he was venturing in South Korea.
Kitty had a stomach ache and vomited all day. We suspect she got food poisoning but we’re unsure of the cause. It could’ve been the smelly oyster sauce or perhaps Jgen Jgen’s fun-see that caused her to choke and throw up. Fun-see is angel hair-like stir-fried glass noodles, with scrambled egg, vegetables, and char siu. Either way, Kitty was sick and my Jgen Jgen had the perfect solution: the cure-all, sieng fung cha. She thought everything would magically get better.
But it turned out that Chinese medicine isn’t particularly suited for sick cats. Kitty died shortly after drinking the pitch black, pungent, unknown Chinese liquid. By the end of the story, we were almost in tears— of laughter.
“It’s the mysterious Chinese potion!” Michael wheezed, his face turning bright red as he tried not to let a japchae noodle fly out of his nose. “I have no clue what she puts in it, but if it’s not safe for the cat, it ain’t safe for any of us!”
Our Chinese grandmother was still grieving. My dad, who also thought the story was quite hilarious, warned us not to talk about it too loudly in front of Jgen jgen.
“She feels super guilty,” he said.
“Well, what did she expect? She gave Chinese medicine to a cat,” I scoffed.
While our parents were at the other table debating American politics, we, the American Born Chinese (ABC’s), were sitting at the kids’ table undermining the credibility of traditional Chinese medicine. That’s the difference between our generations.
??? (can’t recognize the handwriting): 20 grams, Skullcap: 15 grams, Radix scrophulariae: 15 grams, Cyrtomium fortunei: 20 grams
Cyrtomium fortunei, also known as holly fern, is a plant traditionally used in Chinese medicine. The fern can treat tapeworm, bleeding ailments and can help prevent influenza.
I’ve never liked the smell of sieng fung cha. It always stinks up my grandmother’s house. Even if you’re congested from an illness, the stench is so strong you can still smell it. A few years before Kitty died, my grandmother packed some sieng fung cha in a mason jar for me to bring to school. I willingly brought it, still believing it’d work. When I felt a rush of shivers from my week-long cold, I thought the hot sieng fung cha would be the perfect solution. Big mistake. The odor quickly filled the class. All my classmates turned in my direction, trying to identify where the unfamiliar smell was coming from. The sieng fung cha was so pungent that even Mr. Chen, my eleventh-grade physics teacher, stopped his lesson and looked me straight in the eye.
“C’mon, did you really have to do that here?” He asked, his shoulders drooping from the sad reminder of how distracted our class got. “What... What is that, anyway?”
“Just medicine,” I replied, keeping my eyes on my desk. Hopefully, no one noticed my cheeks redden.
Isatis root: 15 grams, Selfheal: 20 grams, ??? (I don’t understand this but I think it’s honeysuckle): 20 grams
I don’t exactly remember what Kimball Union [Academy]’s gym looked like, but I remember the smell of it... I associate scents with my memory. KUA’s gym smells like losing and I don’t like it at all. -Erin McCann, Phillips Exeter Girls Varsity Basketball
If I’m being completely honest, I can’t describe the scent and taste of sieng fung cha. The scent is so uniquely pungent that it’s indescribable. But it also reminds me of Jgen Jgen’s concern for my cold hands and how she’d get so excited at the thought of making something that prevents her granddaughter from getting sick. It tastes just like it smells: awful. Despite the disgusted reaction I can’t help showing, I’m reminded of her love every time I drink it.
Throw all ingredients into a large pot and add 5 gallons of water. Boil overnight. This part was inferred by Gloria and I. “Based on my experience you put everything in a pot and boil the stuff,” Gloria said.
The food we eat extends far into our history. -Kurt Evans, African-American chef activist
When Popo, my maternal grandmother, visited California that Thanksgiving break, Jgen Jgen taught her how to make sieng fung cha. Not another grandma making sieng fung cha! When I asked my dad to get Jgen Jgen’s sieng fung cha recipe, she only sent a list of ingredients in Chinese. As Gloria tried to decipher the recipe, we realized that lots of things would get lost in translation.
“You should probably double-check the translation,” she suggested. “Chinese medicine can be really vague.”
It’s impossible to get the exact brew without Jgen Jgen.
Pour hot sieng fung cha into a mason jar. Give to someone who has cold hands. TESTED ON AN ANIMAL! Not safe for cats.
Cultural diffusion is being inspired and influenced by the different cultures you’re surrounded by -Michael W. Twitty
Sieng fung cha will probably be lost in family history after this generation. The funny thing is, it’s not a family recipe. Jgen Jgen didn’t learn it from her friends either. She found it back when she lived in Hong Kong over 48 years ago, in a book of herbal medicine. Jgen Jgen hopes to start the tradition, that’s why she taught Popo. Little does she know, none of us will continue it. We don’t want to.
When Jgen Jgen, Yeh Yeh (paternal grandfather), Popo, and Gung Gung (maternal grandfather) immigrated from China to the United States, they brought their values and traditions. Two generations later, what’s left of their culture is manifested by me: a 20-year-old “banana” who refused to keep her native language. When I learned English in kindergarten, I forgot Cantonese, not wanting to seem different from my classmates. I rejected Jgen Jgen’s sieng fung cha. Now though, I want to protect the japchae, char siu, and winter melon with oyster sauce that I grew up eating from being replaced by mashed potatoes, turkey with gravy and apple pie. Ultimately, it will be the next generation that decides what stays and goes. Perhaps the aroma of fragrant sesame oil and soy sauce will cause my children to turn their noses away from japchae, just as I did from sieng fung cha.
Claudia Lee is a second-year Communication major in the College of Letters and Science. She plans to study at Korea University next fall to continue her interests in communication studies and personal finance. After graduation, she hopes to continue writing recreationally while discovering a career path that excites her.