集結對台灣這塊土地的味覺記憶
★90多道料理喚起你對台灣的記憶
★蕃薯粥、菜脯、素滷飯,傳統與現代料理的交會滋味
作者George Lee曾與他的阿公一起在寧靜的淡水生活,在阿公的薰陶下,他學到許多台灣飲食傳統。直到他17歲時,阿公過世,George Lee和家人遵照佛教的禮儀,不吃葷食,近一百天,他們都在寺廟裡搭伙,寺廟裡的尼姑甚至教導George Lee如何烹飪。
多年後,George Lee回顧這段歷史,將他所學習到的知識匯集成這本《阿公的圓桌》。這是一本關於家族記憶的烹飪故事集。在書中,George Lee分享一道他的童年回憶:蕃薯粥,這是一款粥裡綴有紅黃地瓜塊的日常早餐。還有經典的菜脯。在日光下曬製的蘿蔔條,吃起來香脆、爽口,也讓他回憶起一月的台灣在空氣中聞到菜脯的鹽巴滋味。另外還有介乎傳統與現代之間的素滷飯,這是George Lee的母親用醬油燉煮手切豆末的一道無肉料理。
為了撰寫這本書,George Lee與朋友走遍台灣,尋找那些與他們成長和食物相關的記憶所在。走出市場,拎著一袋水果在斑馬線上踽踽獨行的老人,或是並肩坐在公車上、望著前方的夫婦,George Lee一直在前進,一直在旅行。翻開《阿公的圓桌》,跟隨著George Lee的腳步,傾聽這塊土地的心跳,透過書中90多道料理,喚醒你我對家鄉的情感與滋味。
「這是一封寫給台灣的美麗情書,也是一本完美的紀錄作品。」——《The Vegan Chinese Kitchen》Hannah Che
A rendering of food through the memories of family and of home: over ninety plant-based recipes from George Lee, the creator of Chez Jorge, with Laurent Hsia’s images of Taiwan.
George Lee grew up with his A-Gong (grandfather) in the quiet refuge of Tamsui, Taiwan. He took part in the myriad Taiwanese food traditions his A-Gong nurtured, until he was seventeen, when his A-Gong passed. In observation of the death, he and his family undertook a set of Buddhist funeral customs and abstained from eating meat. For a hundred days, they ate at the monastery and the nuns there taught him to cook.
Years later, he revisited the lessons and pieced them into the story of his family’s cooking. Some recipes he shares here are directly from childhood: Han-tsî-bê, an everyday breakfast congee floating with fist-size chunks of golden sweet potatoes, and the quintessential preserve Tshài-póo, crunchy strips of sun-dried daikon radish that salt in the air for a few days in January. Others tread the boundaries between old and new, such as Sòo-lóo-pn̄g, a meatless rendition of the hand-cut pork bits his mom braised in soy sauce and ladled over rice.
While writing this book, George wandered all over Taiwan with his friend Laurent Hsia, who took photos along the way. Together, they sought out the foods and places tied to their memories growing up. Like the grandpa who slung a bag of apples along the zebra crossing to exit the morning market, or the old couple on the bus in black and white, sitting side by side and peering forward, the two found themselves . . . always afoot, traveling. A-Gong’s Table follows the rhythm of their footsteps: a pulse that takes you quietly through the book and through Taiwan, from morning to night.