By Linh Dam (Emily)
Welcome back to What Matters — Episode 38. Stories I hope, in some small way, truly matter.
I grew up in a vibrant city near the Chinese border, where the aromas of roasted duck, steamed fish, and delicate dim sum wafted through the streets and into my childhood. While Vietnamese dishes shaped my everyday meals, the distinctive flavors of Cantonese cuisine became an inseparable part of my culinary memory — as familiar and comforting as home itself.
Photo credit: Sunset
Years later, as I ventured beyond that familiar world and immersed myself in Western gastronomy (even earning a WSET certification), I became enthralled with new tastes, rituals, and culinary philosophies. I sought expression — perhaps as a way to mask an unspoken fear. In doing so, I drifted from the roots that had once grounded me. I forgot how deeply the flavors of the East had shaped me.
But with time and stillness came clarity. As I returned inward, my perspective widened. Like the turning of seasons, I began to see not only the elegance of the West but the profound wisdom in Eastern traditions. Alongside The Godfather and The Fountainhead, I found myself revisiting the pages of Romance of the Three Kingdoms and Liao-Fan’s Four Lessons.
And it wasn’t a glass of wine or a perfect steak that called me home — it was the quiet comfort of tea, the warmth of a bite of dim sum. That was when I realized how deeply I love my cultural roots. In particular, my love for Cantonese cuisine — the culinary school that first taught me how to taste, to feel, to remember.
We live in a world defined by Western narratives, but perhaps now is the time to pause — and look East. Within the quiet elegance of Eastern cuisine lies a strength often overlooked. Chinese food, and especially Cantonese fare, does more than nourish. It reflects philosophy, history, and soul — things we often forget to taste.
China is home to eight great culinary traditions: Cantonese, Sichuan, Jiangsu, Shandong, Fujian, Hunan, Anhui, and Zhejiang. Each tells its own story — Sichuan is bold, Jiangsu refined, Shandong robust. Yet among them, Cantonese cuisine stands apart not through flamboyance, but through restraint. It honors freshness, precision, and simplicity. There’s no need to impress — only to reveal what is already whole.
From the fish markets of Guangzhou to home kitchens in Foshan, to fine restaurants in Hong Kong and Macau, Cantonese cuisine has traveled the world. In San Francisco and New York, dim sum carts weave through Chinatown streets. In Vancouver, teahouses brim with hot har gow. From London to Paris, Sydney to Singapore — even in Bangkok’s alleys or along the Saigon river — crisp roasted duck, fragrant broth, and live seafood seduce global palates, testifying to a timeless allure.
Freshness as Philosophy
In a Cantonese kitchen, freshness is not just a standard — it’s a way of life. Rooted in the lush abundance of southern China, this cuisine treats ingredients with reverence. A fish caught that morning, seasonal bok choy, freshly dug lotus root — everything is prepared to honor what nature offers. As the Cantonese say: “To eat is to savor the seasons.”
Take steamed soy-sauce fish — a hallmark of refined simplicity. A whole fish, cleaned and delicately steamed with ginger, scallions, and a touch of soy, finished with a drizzle of hot oil. It sounds simple, but therein lies the mastery.
When the lid lifts, aromas of ginger, scallion, and soy rise like poetry. The flesh is tender and sweet, melting on the tongue. Nothing shouts; everything speaks in harmony. It’s like tasting the ocean, distilled.
Photo Credit: The Maker Makes
Cantonese cooking celebrates the unadorned. No overpowering sauces or chaotic spices. The goal is elevation, not domination. Garlic sautéed bok choy, for instance, isn’t elaborate — but if done well, it’s unforgettable. Quick-blanched greens, perfectly crisp. Fragrant garlic, golden but never bitter. High heat, swift hands. A plate of jade-colored vegetables, fresh and vibrant — proof that less can indeed be more.
As culinary expert Fuchsia Dunlop wrote, “Cantonese food doesn’t overwhelm you. It soothes you.”
Photo Credit: China Sichuan Food
Dim Sum: A Celebration that Touches the Heart
One of the most beloved aspects of Cantonese cuisine is dim sum — a centuries-old tradition of small, shareable plates served with tea. The term “dim sum” is derived from the Chinese characters for “touch the heart,” and that’s exactly what this culinary ritual does. Unlike Western meals with their generous, singular portions, dim sum is a celebration of variety — a sensory journey shared through bamboo steamers, flavorful bites, and quiet moments of connection.
Dim sum includes an array of small dishes that are as diverse in flavor as they are in form — from steamed to fried to baked. Some of the most popular items include har gow (shrimp dumplings), siu mai (pork and shrimp dumplings), char siu bao (barbecue pork buns), cheung fun (steamed rice noodle rolls), lai wong bao (custard buns), xiao long bao (soup dumplings), phoenix claws (braised chicken feet), turnip cakes, and egg tarts. Each dish offers a delicate interplay of flavor and technique, crafting a dining experience that is both captivating and unforgettable.
Photo Credit: Tanuki
Dim sum is a dance of texture and taste: the softness of the dumpling wrapper, the freshness of the shrimp or pork or mushrooms within, the contrast between the tender casing and the rich filling. Imagine biting into a translucent har gow, revealing plump, glistening shrimp. Or slowly savoring a fluffy char siu bao, the sweet barbecue pork inside steaming as you lift it from the basket.
Paired with yum cha — the cherished practice of drinking tea while dining — dim sum becomes more than a meal. It becomes a ritual of mindfulness. Sips of jasmine or oolong tea cleanse the palate, enhance each bite, and root you in the moment. It’s an experience that fosters connection not just with those across the table, but with ancestors and stories passed down through generations.
Photo Credit: Asian Inspirations
A Masterclass in Balance
What truly sets Cantonese cuisine apart is its masterful sense of balance. It doesn’t aim to overwhelm — it aims to harmonize. Sweetness, saltiness, acidity, bitterness — each has its rightful place in the composition. Cantonese chefs prize purity of ingredient, cooking with deliberate care and restraint.
Take char siu — Cantonese barbecue pork — for instance. Usually made from pork belly or shoulder, it’s marinated in honey, soy sauce, five-spice powder, and garlic. The marinade seeps deep into the meat, infusing it with complexity. Roasted to perfection, the outer crust caramelizes into a ruby-red sheen, while the inside remains tender and juicy.
Each bite strikes a chord between sweetness and smoke. The sticky glaze gives way to meat so flavorful and succulent it barely needs accompaniment — but when paired with a simple bowl of steamed rice or nestled inside a bun, it delivers the kind of quiet satisfaction that lingers.
Photo Credit: HG Walter
Similarly, Cantonese roast duck is a work of art, prepared with precision to preserve the natural flavor of the meat. The duck is marinated in a signature blend of spices, then roasted until the skin becomes golden and audibly crisp. Bite into it and the crackling shatters, giving way to a burst of umami-rich fat that somehow never feels heavy.
The meat beneath is tender, juicy, and deeply infused with flavor. A light drizzle of soy-based glaze or a dusting of five-spice powder enhances rather than overpowers. The result is a dish that’s subtle yet unforgettable, deeply comforting but never indulgent.
Photo Credit: The Annapurna Express
And then, there are the soups. In Cantonese cooking, soups are often slow-brewed for hours using dried seafood, lotus root, or winter melon, steeped in medicinal herbs that nourish both body and soul. “Three hours of simmering for one bowl of clarity,” as the Cantonese saying goes. These soups aren’t just sustenance — they are distilled patience, passed down knowledge, and quiet devotion in liquid form.
Photo Credit: Asian Inspirations
The Power of Stillness
Cantonese cuisine doesn’t seek the spotlight. It doesn’t rely on spectacle. It nurtures. It respects. It honors ingredients by letting them be — showcasing natural textures, subtle infusions, and quiet depth.
Photo Credit: Maystar Malang
This is food that doesn’t shout — it whispers. Its elegance lies not in grandeur, but in grace. It invites you to slow down, to appreciate the beauty of restraint, and to savor each bite as it unfolds. And once you’ve tasted the harmony of it all — once you’ve let it sink in — it stays with you.
In a world of fleeting trends and loud flavors, Cantonese cuisine remains steady, offering a culinary philosophy rooted in balance, care, and timelessness. It’s an invitation to return — not just to a memory or a culture, but to a way of being. A way of noticing. A way of tasting all four seasons — fully, deeply, and with grace.
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