Dream Noodles

In A Concise Chinese-English Dictionary for Lovers, author Xiaolu Guo uses food as a symbol of identity. The protagonist “Z” comes to England, completely unaccustomed to British life, and describes the elements of culture she finds strange, including the food. One of her first forays with British food is the “full English breakfast” at her bed and breakfast, which is a much larger meal than she is used to. Unused to British portions, she tries to eat most of it, but finds herself unable to finish it. This only makes her feel “guilty and wasty” because she has a Chinese, not British, attitude about food; it is a reaction that reflects her Chinese identity (14).

Z uses food as a means to describe British and Chinese cultural differences. Her lover makes “Eggy Salad,” which strikes Z as bizarre because “in China cold food for guest is bad, only beggars no complain cold food” (48). She cannot complain though, as that would be impolite, but still has trouble responding when her lover asks whether she likes the food. Z nods, but this seems to go unnoticed, as her lover answers for her: “Yes. I like the food very much. It is delicious. It is yami” (48). This is Z, if she were used to British social norms, would respond. It is how she is supposed to behave.

Though she learns appropriate British behavior in other arenas, Z struggles to change her attitudes around food, perhaps because food is so closely linked to her identity. She explains that the “only thing I care in life is eating” (13). Food is part of her upbringing and culture; she has learned to eat a certain way her whole life, which makes her habits hard to change. Even when she is forced into a situation where she has to adapt by living with a vegetarian, she complains. Food becomes the subject of their arguments, a manifestation of the cultural differences that complicate their relationship. Though food is a point of contention, it is also a way to demonstrate love. When Z recovers from her abortion, her lover cooks her a silver carp, food she likes that he does not believe in. It pleases her, mainly because it reminds her of home, of her culture. For Z, food carries a variety of meaning; it reflects her roots, her dissatisfaction with elements of English life, and her relationship with her lover. It becomes more than a meal but an illustration of her life.

This use of food as a representation of Z becomes even clearer in the entry “bestseller,” which describes Z’s dream about becoming a noodle “cookery writer” famous in the West (233). Her book is “about two-way cooking, meaning either it can be prepared as Chinese food or it can become Italian spaghetti”—one can just change a few ingredients and “the noodles will get totally different identity” (234). The dream presents this easy notion of gaining a new identity, suggesting that one just needs to make a few easy adjustments to go from Chinese to Italian. If only, Z seems to imply, transitioning to a new culture was that simple.

By this point in the book, her identity has become more complicated, which the dream reflects. Z writes that she would be “too ashamed” to use her real name in the book, as it writing about “cooking noodles for English people” would be a scandal (234). It would be a betrayal of her Chinese identity, a demonstration that she has become more English. Z decides to use “Anon..the person who has no name” instead (234). It is a name that captures her identity; she is no longer fully Chinese or English, but a nameless blending of the two.

The dream, though, is not reality. Afterwards, Z wants to cook the dream noodles but cannot remember how, so she takes out a pack of instant noodles. She wants to effortlessly switch identities like the dream noodles, but she is forced to accept what she has: the instant, unchanging noodles. One’s identity, she discovers, it not always what one desires.