Review: Sweet Mandarin by Helen Tse

When your entire family works in restaurants, food becomes a family album—an heirloom that triggers memories. [pg 4]


Sweet Mandarin by Helen Tse
Ebury Press, 2007
Nonfiction; 279 pgs

One of my best friends during my childhood was a girl whose family owned and ran a Chinese restaurant. I remember once attending a birthday party at the restaurant and being awed by the Asian themes and decor—it was all so glamorous to me. It never crossed my mind to think of all the hard work my friend’s family must have put into the restaurant. Reading Sweet Mandarin, however, I couldn’t help but wonder if they too faced some of the same struggles. I wish now that I was still in touch with this particular friend and that I had thought to ask her about her family’s background. But, at the time, I was a child interested more in the present than in the past.

Growing up, most of my friends were Asian-Americans, in fact, although it was not really something I thought much of until one day a friend commented about my being her only white friend. Suddenly my whiteness stood out like a sore thumb. I didn’t know whether to feel embarrassed or honored. It never really dawned on me that I should care. The truth is, it shouldn’t and it doesn’t.—but in that split moment, it did. I cannot know the prejudice that she or any of my other friends may have faced because of their ethnicity. I would like to think that they didn’t face any at all, but that isn’t very realistic, is it? In my life, I have faced other forms of discrimination whether it be because of economic status or gender—and even in the form of reverse ageism.

I cannot really say why immigrant stories interest me so. Being a Heinz-57 (or as I like to call myself: a mutt), I always envied those who knew where they came from and could identify their roots so specifically. The older I got, however, the more I came to appreciate the diversity of my own family. We too had once been immigrants—at least my ancestors had. They worked hard and made a life for themselves just as so many others have had to do. They wanted the best for their children, to survive and prosper.

Helen Tse tells the story of her grandmother’s life journey in Sweet Mandarin, mapping out the path that led the author and her sisters to open their own restaurant in Manchester, England, leaving behind lucrative careers and reconnecting with their heritage. Lily, Helen’s grandmother, is an amazing woman. She knew poverty and success, love and betrayal. She worked hard for everything she accomplished, saw it destroyed by greed and ill-fortune on more than one occasion, and not once did she think to give up. She did what she had to do to survive.

Lily was born in a small village in China, moving to Hong Kong when her father’s soy sauce business began to take off. With her father’s early demise, Lily’s mother and her sisters stayed on in the city and struggled to make a living as best they could. They lived in abject poverty, dependent on others to keep a roof over their heads. Lily had always been a planner and she knew what she must do to survive. She worked as an amah, a maid and nanny, to the wealthy European families who settled temporarily in Hong Kong. When the Japanese invaded Hong Kong during World War II, she became a translator for the Japanese, burdened by the horrors she saw, and yet she somehow hung on. She left behind her children and husband to work in England, hoping for a better life. Her daughter and son would soon follow her, and eventually the family would settle in England, where Helen and her sisters and brother would call home.

Throughout this time, food played a particularly important part in the family’s history. From Lily’s father, Leung, whose ambition and foresight brought prosperity to his family with his soy sauce business, to Lily’s eventual opening of her own restaurant in England, which people would flock to from far and wide. The author’s mother, Mabel, would also find solace in the food industry. It was the family livelihood, their pride and joy. The children grew up surrounded by food. And even in their frustrations and wish for something more and different, they still always seemed to come back to it—it is a tie to the past, but more importantly, an honor to those who came before them, an appreciation of their struggles and hardwork as well as a bridge between the past, the present and the future.

Sweet Mandarin is an inspiring story. Lily is truly an admirable woman. I do wish the author had been able to delve more deeply into life in Hong Kong during the Second World War, but I also understand that it was a difficult time for her grandmother to talk about and therefore not something the author could easily write about. I was amazed at the amount of research the author did to learn more about her grandfather—his is a story that is both moving and tragic. Helen Tse honors her family with this book. Her love, respect and admiration for her family shines through on each page. If I ever find myself in Manchester, I will make a point of stopping at Sweet Mandarin and ordering Lily Kwok’s Chicken Curry.

Rating: (Very Good)

Check out the author's website for more information about her restaurant and book.

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