Episode #164: Flavors of Freedom
“When I think of mohinga, it takes me back to when I was little,” Yunanda Wilson says. Now living in Asheville, North Carolina, she has warm memories not only of the scrumptious fish noodle dish, but also its place in her family history. “My grandparents from my mom's side, they originally came from one of the farther out villages and they had the opportunity to go to the bigger city, which is Yangon… My grandmother, she was mainly raising the four children... She was such an amazing cook! She not only fed the family, but in the mornings, she was also involved in the markets.” Yunanda remembers that her grandmother sold a variety of snacks, like samosas and salads, at a booth her family helped manage. But the item her grandmother was most known for? Mohinga!
“It blew my mind that it's in our blood,” she recalls thinking, “to serve it up and feed the community. It rectified that I'm on the right path, even more. So mohinga has a very special place in my heart, for sure. And I always make it extra spicy!”
Her grandmother’s story, particularly the underlying memory of cooking and sharing Burmese food, is all the more pertinent to Yunanda because she has recently launched a career for herself, and is now showcasing Burmese cuisine in a community where it was previously unknown. Calling her company A Thoke Lay, she has a food truck and also caters events, with dreams of one day owning a brick and mortar.
But for Yunanda, it’s not just memories of her grandmother’s cooking that animate her as a chef. She also fondly recalls how her mother brought her along whenever she offered food at Buddhist monasteries. Yunanda remembers the chanting, meditation and discourses, but even more, her feeling of overall, inner peace following the meal… and that food offerings were the thing that brought it all together. “I think that's so beautiful to literally give it away, like that's the whole point,” she remembers. “Because you get what you give, at the end of the day. So when it comes to food, they may not have much, but they're like, ‘Oh, here, please, take it, I want you to enjoy it with me! It's the company.” Her early family memories of cooking and sharing Burmese food are lovingly and creatively evoked in the food she makes today.
After graduating from culinary school, Yunanda developed a menu based on Burmese dishes and began serving them around her area. She has found it extremely rewarding to connect with people by teaching them about her heritage through food. “It is a spot for the community to come together, not only to enjoy delicious food, but it will help spread awareness about what's going on in our country, and shed some light on our resilience culture and what are we facing now. I feel this is my way, my path, to helping it be added to the culinary map.”
One of the biggest questions she gets from customers is, “What exactly is Burmese food?” Yunanda emphasizes the varied descriptions of the cuisine one can hear, saying that is “because we really have such a high influence from all of our neighbors,” referencing the various Chinese, Indian, and Thai foods that have found their way into Burmese recipes. Yunanda ultimately describes Burmese cuisine as a kind of Southeast Asia fusion, albeit with the caveat of unique dishes like mohinga, fermented tea leaves, and the variety of salads. “So when it comes to what makes Burmese food Burmese food, I think what makes it so beautiful is that we have that adaptability that invites different tastes and culture, and we'll mix it up a little bit based on what locally available.”
She also notes how the country’s poverty plays a role in how people eat. For example, she explains how, when the Burmese can’t afford meat or fish, they have learned to improvise by adding protein such as chickpea flour, beans, and nuts. She credits this to a certain resilient spirit that the people have had to develop over several repeated decades of oppression at the hands of military dictators. But although one might think that living in a state of fear and poverty would bring about greater selfishness in order to survive, Yunanda says it is the exact opposite, in fact: the Burmese people are known to be some of the most generous people in the world. “They’re always watching out for each other,” she notes, “and the connection of food is their way of being like, ‘Hey, I'm here for you, even though politically we might not be able to talk too much, or because I'm scared, but hey, we're in this together!’ It's like that unsaid community communication line.”
Another intriguing aspect of Burmese cooking for Yunanda is how Burmese cooks just seem to have an innate ability to combine ingredients in a dish in such a way that all the senses become involved… even when one’s pantry is limited. “The ultimate goal for any dish I'm looking for, is it going to have acid? Is it going to have heat, texture, umami, the colors, and the presentation? And even though it's going to hit you with that, it balances, right? You're going have some sweet but then they put salt in it and sour to just harmonize everything. You would think you're back to zero, because you've balanced it, like it cancels out, but it doesn't cancel out!”
At the end of the day, Yunanda knows, as both her mother and her grandmother taught her long ago, that while food can be the medium, there is much more to the story. “Food is an easy and common and very primitive way to pique the interest from the start,” she says. “I mean, we're human, and food is energy… You're appealing to more of your senses when you're tasting it, smelling it, you're hearing about it now! Now you're like, ‘Okay, I'm connected to this story.’ I think this is my little part in hoping that as things are unfolding, there's more connection that I can help build to my country, and through food definitely.”