FOOD . Forked Tongue

Full Poon

The only thing more intimidating than preparing dinner for your in-laws is cooking a meal for a seasoned chef.


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Published: Apr 17, 2007

The only thing more intimidating than preparing dinner for your in-laws is cooking a meal for a seasoned chef. Earlier this year, I invited chef Joseph Poon, aka "the unofficial mayor of Chinatown," over for dinner. We had met only once during his Wok 'N Walk tour, when I foolishly insisted on making a home-cooked Persian meal to introduce him to the cuisine of my heritage. Despite years of dining throughout Europe, I was more of an eater than a cooker; arranging a meal for a chef who can make a sculpture out of a watermelon in the time that I can peel an orange proved a daunting challenge.

When assembling the menu, I remembered the adage: Stick with what you know. Unfortunately for me, that wasn't much. The number of tried-and-true recipes under my apron could be counted on one hand. For starters, I decided to go with a simple yogurt, cucumber and mint dip; and a chilled salad Olivier, made with boiled chicken, eggs, potatoes, dill pickles, peas and a lemon-mayo sauce. The main course, a tomato-based eggplant stew flavored with powdered Persian limes and cinnamon, would be accompanied by saffron-tinged basmati and barberry rices. With the latter, I was pulling out the big guns, figuring Poon would never have tasted barberries before.

When the chef arrived, I realized with horror that my sink was overflowing with dirty dishes. Lucky for me, he brought along a live lobster and a bloody fish — distractions that can always be counted on. I bequeathed my humble kitchen to the master chef and stood awestruck as he made a dish using only five ingredients: steamed tilapia stuffed with green beans, scallions, fresh ginger and soy sauce. Right then and there, I understood the importance of fresh ingredients, and that great cooking doesn't have to be complicated. As for the lobster wobbling on the countertop, Poon meticulously dismembered it and threw the orange flesh in my scalding wok. The hapless crustacean was stir-fried with udon noodles in a spicy red sauce.

As we sat down to our feast, sweat began to bead on my forehead. Should I have made an extra effort on presentation? I didn't even bother to garnish the plates with parsley. Then I thought, this guy can make dragons out of hot peppers — who was I kidding inviting him over for dinner? When judgment time came, there were some serious setbacks. The potatoes in my salad Olivier were undercooked, and the barberries overcaramelized. Fortunately, my yogurt dip and eggplant stew were successful. Poon cooed with excitement as he breathed in the exotic aromas. A gracious guest, he tasted everything, even though I probably gave the lactose-intolerant chef a minor case of diarrhea. At least that would explain what he told my boyfriend: "Next time, you cook for me."

(editorial@citypaper.net)