He is one of my favorite Chinese chefs.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008 (SF Chronicle)
MARTIN YAN'S CAN-DO ATTITUDE/The Bay Area's gregarious TV chef focuses on his native China with new school and book
Amanda Gold, Chronicle Staff Writer
At age 13, Martin Yan left his home in Guangzhou, China, with nothing more than a small rattan suitcase and $20.
It was your classic case of tough love. Unable to properly care for Martin after losing her husband, Yan's mother felt that sending him to live with a distant uncle in Hong Kong would give him a chance at a better life.
Nearly 50 years later, Yan, one of the world's most recognizable ambassadors of Chinese food, sits in an office wallpapered with endless accolades. He knows his mother was right.
"I always tell people," he says, "that if I didn't have crisis or need in my life, I never would have learned to survive."
He's done more than just survive. As the first Asian TV cooking show host in the United States, he has never let up; this year marks the 30th anniversary of his original PBS-TV, "Yan Can Cook." His animated and wacky demeanor has garnered him both a devoted following and a fair share of sarcastic criticism. But his passion, wealth of knowledge and desire for a humble lifestyle has protected him from the fickle, inconsistent nature that afflicts today's generation of food TV personalities.
Not all of Yan's projects have met with success - his Yan Can fast-casual restaurants never fully got off the ground. But with his newest PBS series, "Martin Yan's China," a companion cookbook (his 27th) out this year, a series of shows targeted to the Chinese population, and this
month's opening of his cooking school in Shenzhen, China, this multifaceted man has come full circle, not only keeping up with the changing culinary landscape in America, but also catering to the masses in his native China. The man who has been criticized for his loose interpretations of Chinese cuisine in the United States has effectively become a revered teacher in his homeland.
First and foremost, he says, it's about staying on top of the skills he learned so many years ago.
When he first arrived in Hong Kong, his uncle put him to work in his restaurant. "I slept there," says Yan, "because there was no room for me anywhere else."
He recalls, "I wanted to go to culinary school, but I had no money."
Not to be deterred, he made a deal with the owner of the cooking school.
"I told him I would go shopping and carry ingredients back to the school," which, it should be noted, was located on the seventh floor of a walk-up building. In exchange, Yan got free tuition.
It wasn't the last time he'd use his entrepreneurial instincts to advance.
Yan came North America in 1969 when he was 21, stopping first in Calgary, Canada. But it was the coldest winter in 20 years, and after a few months, he'd had enough.
"I went to visit a friend at UC Davis, and never bothered to go back and pack up," he says, laughing.
There, he found himself in similar hot water, with an urge to continue his schooling and no funds. "At that point, nobody was teaching Chinese cooking in this part of the world," he says, so he approached the dean of UC Davis Extension.
The dean told Yan that he would put a small ad in the Davis Enterprise, the city's daily paper, and if more than 15 people replied, he would give him a class. After the ad ran, 43 people signed up, and Yan had his first two classes to teach.
Yan spent the next several years in Davis teaching, taking groups to San Francisco's Chinatown and catering out of his Rambler station wagon.
"I could never get a date," he jokes, "because nobody wanted to get into a car that smelled like a kitchen." Grounded in science Instead, he focused on his master's degree in food science, and after graduation returned to Hong Kong to work for a large sauce and seasoning company.
But his dream was to live in America. Because it was difficult to get back into the States, he returned to Calgary.
There he helped a friend open a restaurant, and started doing a "lunch and learn" program on the weekends, where he'd invite guests into the restaurant to take a cooking class before eating lunch together. A producer of a local TV show came in one day, and asked Yan to be a guest
on a talk show.
"I went on once, and they thought I was a little different," says Yan, "so they asked me to come back. After the second time, they asked me to do 130 shows. "
Since then, Yan has done close to 3,000 shows, primarily for PBS.
The shows have ranged from cooking demonstrations in Yan's kitchen to travelogues covering various Chinatowns and other locales around the world. His latest series, "Martin Yan's China," is devoted to the four schools of Chinese cuisine - Cantonese in the South, Szechuan and Hunan in
the West, Shanghai and Fuzhou in the East, and Beijing and the Mongol flavors of the North.
"This is the China century, whether you like it or not," he says. "All eyes are on China." Americans are traveling and working there more than ever, so, "it's a great time to be introducing this specific regional cuisine."
Plus, explains Yan, things have changed dramatically since he first started doing his "Yan Can Cook" TV shows.
"In the beginning, I just did things like chop suey and chow mein - more Americanized Chinese food. Now, the general public is more curious, articulate and adventurous. They're more willing to accept new cuisines and ingredients." It's why, he says, you see every type of ethnic fare
show up in the Bay Area. The Bay Area effect.
Living here - he has a house in the hills above San Mateo - has had an influence on Yan as well.
"Now, I tend to do more healthy stuff. I use a lot less oil, and I stay away from things that are endangered species." In general, Yan explains, he's more socially conscious and responsible, which mirrors the attitude of the American public, especially in Northern California.
In China, he says, "We've always eaten with the seasons based on what's available locally," so that's nothing new. Before filming the current series, Yan taped cooking shows for a Chinese
audience, which allowed him to meet the locals and form relationships that helped dictate episodes of this new series. Being on the inside track gives viewers a more sensory experience.
In an episode on Szechuan, for example, he was able to run around with pandas inside their living space. "You just can't find that image anywhere," he says, "and we were able to capture that."
The series he did for the Chinese public, however, was entirely different.
"Here, when you pick out ingredients, you have to explain a lot more about what it is and how to use it. But in China, you can pick out anything and they know what it is." That allowed Yan to cook more exotic and innovative dishes, including steamed worms and insects. "They don't mind if you cut up a live fish or something on TV. Here, if you do that, people are going to sue you."
The funny thing, says Yan, is how successful the show has been in China - more than 110 million viewers, he says. "They had newspapers that said, 'American chef comes over to teach Chinese cooking.' They didn't realize that I was actually born there."
But his popularity may have less to do with the dishes he prepares on TV and more to do with his engaging personality, Jackie Chan-like knife skills and ability to connect with viewers.
"Martin is a great performer, and he's fun," says Cecilia Chiang, founder of the former Mandarin restaurant in San Francisco's Ghirardelli square.
Chiang recalls the early days when Yan would come into her restaurant to eat, and was very timid.
"When he first came here, he didn't have anything," she says. "Now, he has a good reputation, fame and money. That's pretty hard to do. You have to be smart." Addressing the critics Yan has no problem talking about how far he has come and his capabilities - he'll tell you that his TV show reaches hundreds of millions of viewers, and that he can bone a chicken in 18 seconds - both of which are true. But in the next breath, he'll say in no uncertain terms that he's not
successful.
"I never think I'm on top of the world," he says. "If you're on top, you catch all the winds, and get all the criticism." There is much less pressure, he says, if you don't strive to be first. But don't believe for a second that Yan escapes the critiques that plague those in the limelight. Viewers know him as the man who yells his signature tagline "Yan can cook, so can you!" in each episode. Most find this energy contagious, though rumors have swirled that his thick accent is fake and used to bolster his quirky TV persona.
Yan is quick to defend himself.
"I came here when I was 21 years old, and people don't understand why I still have an accent. Whenever people say that, I say, 'Let me teach you one sentence in Cantonese. No matter how many times you repeat it, you're still going to have a heavy accent.' "
And though Chiang has the utmost respect for Yan's work ethic and impressive career, she's less sure about the type of food he prepares.
"Martin Yan has Martin Yan Cuisine," she says. "It's kind of a mix of cuisines. I'm not really sure that it's authentic."
Still, Yan's goal over the years has been to make Asian cuisine accessible to the American public, and most of his viewers seem to appreciate that. "Martin is an ambassador who bridged a gap by introducing people to Chinese cuisine in an unintimidating way," says Alex Ong, chef at the
pan-Asian restaurant Betelnut in San Francisco. "He's very good at talking and being one with the audience, and it makes his viewers feel comfortable."
One can even tell by looking at his latest cookbook, due in stores in April, that even the most far-flung regional specialty can be easily cooked in the home kitchen. Though this is one of his most informational books - packed with history, snippets on regional heritage and specialties, and photos from his travel - the recipes are still totally doable for the home cook. Retirement project Sitting in his office, the diminutive man with kind eyes is more subdued than he is on TV, but his cartoonish excitement bubbles to the surface when he talks about Chef Martin Yan's Culinary Arts Center, his new cooking school. A palatial building surrounded by lychee trees in
Shenzhen, China, this is what Yan calls his "retirement project," and something that he's determined to see succeed.
In many ways, this is his attempt to elevate Chinese cuisine, which around the world, is something he and other Asian chefs feel has stagnated. Designed primarily for professional chefs, Yan sees the CAC as a culinary and cultural exchange program. It's his hope that chefs from all over will come to Shenzhen for an intensive program taught by Asian chefs, and will use that knowledge to bolster authentic and regional cuisine elsewhere in the world.
"Up until now," says Yan, "there has been nothing like this in China. You want to learn French cuisine? You go to France. Spanish? You go to Spain.
In order to really learn the cuisine of a particular country, you need to go there."
In addition to the cooking classes, students can also learn tai chi or Chinese paper folding, and can participate in night golf or Chinese massage.
Because dozens of professional chefs have invested in the school, Yan has high hopes for its success. He plans on being there at least two weeks out of every six each year. Taking cooking seriously Yan says his biggest concern is getting his message out and making an impact.
"With all of the shows on the Food Network now, young people think, 'Wow, I can do that.' I say, 'Don't try to be somebody else. If this isn't your passion, do me a favor; don't spend $50,000 in culinary school to do something that you might end up quitting.' "
To that end, he might call the school his retirement project, but don't expect him to slow down anytime soon. As his friend and fellow longtime TV personality Jacques Pepin says, "We cannot escape ourselves. Martin is what he is and he does what he does because he loves it. He has no
intention of doing something else."
-- Gate extra: Martin Yan's Rainbow Stir-Fry at sfgate.com.food.
Yan's school
For more information on chef Martin Yan's Culinary Art Center in Shenzhen, China, visit
www.mycic.biz or
yancancook.com, or call (650) 341-0701.
E-mail Amanda Gold at
agold@sfchronicle.com.
http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?file=/c/a/2008/02/20/FDIDV1L7G.DTL-
