Chinese Pies, Old and New

The first thing that Eric ever cooked for me was Chinese pie. When he described what he was making, I said, “You mean shepherd’s pie?” And he said, “I guess, if that’s what you’d call it.”

Back then we were still sorting out our regional differences — which mostly had to do with having different names for the same thing. I grew up in Youngstown, Ohio and Eric grew up in Dracut, Massachusetts. No one told me until I went to college that I was from the Midwest. I grew up with an extremely liberal father and had always felt as though I belonged to the East coast cultural experience. We make maple syrup, they make maple syrup. How different could it be?

I was visiting him at his dad’s house one summer and was baffled by long conversations the two of them would have each night before we’d go out to dinner.

His dad would ask him, “Are you wearing dungarees or chinos to dinner?” And Eric would say, “Well, where are we going?” And they would discuss the restaurant options, and for anything that wasn’t a pizza parlor, his dad would say, “Maybe I should wear chinos.” And Eric would say, “No, no people wear dungarees in there all the time. Chinos are too formal.” And his dad would say, “Are you sure? I usually wear chinos.” To which Eric responded, “You dress too formally. I’m sure dungarees are fine.” And this would go on and on as they tried to get dressed.

I was already starving and ready to go, sitting in the parlor and thinking that I wished they would sort out the apparel debate so we could get out the door. But I couldn’t offer help because I had no idea what they were talking about.

I knew they were talking about pants. But I couldn’t figure out what KIND of pants.

Growing up, there were no restaurants that I ever went to that had any sort of dress code — implied or spoken. As long as you wore a shirt and shoes and bottoms of some kind (pants, skirt, shorts, etc.) you were in the clear. So I had no idea why Eric and his dad were so troubled by the formality of their outfits. And, dungarees and chinos sounded like cowboy words to me.

Not wanting to sound like a rube by asking, I kept my mouth shut and puzzled over it myself. Eventually I figured it out: dungarees are jeans, chinos are khaki pants.

So what about Chinese pie? Is it just another term for shepherd’s pie?

Not quite. It has similarities: a layer of ground meat is topped with mashed potatoes and baked until golden brown and bubbling. But Chinese pie has a middle layer of corn (either canned, creamed, frozen or a combination) between the meat and potatoes. The meat — usually ground beef — is sauteed with onions, and sometimes green peppers. Each family recipe differs slightly, but Eric’s experience and Wikipedia agree that Chinese pie is a valid term with origins in the New World.

Chinese pie is a nostalgia food for Eric. He does not make it often, but when he does it means more than dinner. It is one of the dishes his mom used to make, and since she died when he was 16, cooking Chinese pie is a way for him to get back in touch with what dinner and family meant to his mom.

I’m a tinkerer. And when Eric’s not in the mood to make strait-laced Chinese pie, I offer variations.

We once made a “Tex-Mex” Chinese pie where one pound of organic ground beef was cooked with cumin and garlic, the mashed potatoes were full of sharp cheddar, and the corn layer was similar to Mexicorn® (corn with peppers), which is a registered trademark of General Mills and which I ate often when I was a kid. This gave me the chance to feel nostalgia connected to the Chinese pie experience, too.

Since I had the separate ingredients on hand and lacked brand-name Mexicorn®, I prepared my version of the corn layer from scratch: dice one onion, one jalepeño, half a red bell pepper; sauté in butter; add frozen corn, salt and pepper to your liking; cook through until hot.

It was very tasty.

I also have visions of an Irish-style pie where the mashed potato layer is replaced by colcannon. Perhaps the corn layer can be replaced with cubed carrots? Or parsnips? I haven’t decided yet — this one’s still in development.

Well, all the tinkering over time inspired Eric last Saturday. While I sat at my computer typing away, he sneaked off to the kitchen. It was not long before I peeked my nose around the counter to ask, “What is it that you’re cooking?”

It was a new Chinese pie. The organic ground beef was sautéed with one-inch slices of onions and diced green bell pepper. There was cumin and garlic and . . . something else in the beef. I wasn’t sure. It smelled exotic. “Cinnamon,” he said, and smiled. Whoa! A curveball from the traditional New Englander!

We made the mashed potatoes with non-fat yogurt (32 oz. on sale for $1!), a bit of cheddar, and a drizzle of olive oil to smooth them out.

“It’s my best Chinese pie EVER,” he said. I think and hope he meant “so far.” We don’t know what to call this one, but it doesn’t matter. The food, the enjoyment of cooking, and the memories of home, family, and love are all evolving each time.

This entry was posted on Monday, March 31, 2008 at 23:11 and is filed under cooking, youngstown, new england, trademark, nostalgia, love, dealings w/feelings, pie. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response or trackback from your own site.