Wrapped in tradition
Brandon Jew’s updates of grandmother’s recipes at heart of pending restaurant
If you stood in the center of Brandon Jew’s kitchen with your arms outstretched, your fingertips would graze the walls on both sides. The heart of the home he shares with his fiancee is scarcely larger than a closet, as organized as a submarine and just as compact.
It takes a moment to realize what’s missing: the refrigerator. It’s housed in the garage, a short walk from the apartment’s front door, along with boxes upon boxes of chinoiserie tableware, a softserve machine he bought off Craigslist, and a handful of other appliances the chef has been collecting for years in advance of the opening of his own Chinese restaurant, Mister Jiu’s, in the fall.
Jew will soon have more than enough kitchen space. He has the architect’s plans for his restaurant, a sprawling 10,000 square feet on Grant Street in the heart of Chinatown, that will be named for his family — Jiu was his family’s surname until they emigrated to the United States, when it was changed to Jew.
On the first floor of the building is a souvenir shop hawking magnets and chirping plastic crickets. The top two floors will house the restaurant; it’s been in continuous service as a restaurant space since 1833.
Jew, who was born in San Francisco, has cooked in plenty of the city’s restaurants, none of them Chinese. He spent two years at Zuni Cafe, during the exciting period when the restaurant won a James Beard Award and Judy Rodgers released her seminal cookbook.
Jew speaks fondly of his mentor, who died last year.
“She was so hands-on with her cooks,” he says. “And she had the best palate I’ve ever come across. She was a master of all of her recipes and could tell just by tasting something if and why something was off.”
Jew went on to cook at Quince and mentions the camaraderie of the chefs who have passed through Michael Tusk’s kitchen.
“You’re going to be put through the ringer, but you’re going to emerge stronger. I think there’s the understanding that if you can survive there you’re a legit cook.”
But while Jew cooked California and Italian food, his heart was set on mastering and recording the Cantonese recipes his grandmother prepared for the family.
“A big part of cooking for me is the idea of continuing a tradition,” he says. When his grandmother died, and with her the undocumented recipes, he decided to continue his training, traveling to Shanghai to cook and eat.
When he returned to the U.S., he worked in other kitchens, including Magnolia and Bar Agricole. But the seed for his own restaurant had been planted, and in his off-hours he ate “as much Chinese food as I could” and picked up Chinese cookbooks, studying the recipes and techniques. Then, drawing from his professional experience and his memories of dishes he loved — and hated — as a kid, he began to make the recipes his own.
In his tiny Richmond District kitchen he prepares lotus leaf-wrapped sticky rice, the steamed parcels filled with rice that has been cooked in a rich chicken broth flavored with ham hock and dried scallops, and recalls the sticky rice parcels of his youth.
“They were filled with unidentifiable bits of meat and sulphuric egg yolks,” he says, shaking his head at the memory. “I want to celebrate tradition, but I also want to make food that tastes good to me.”
He adds homemade duck confit to some of the packages, along with filaments of orange zest, chopped Chinese chives and a scattering of roasted, salted peanuts. Into others he layers the reconstituted scallops, shreds of ham hock and slices of lap cheong sausage.
He’s quick to note that this is a flexible recipe, able to accommodate leftovers. “I almost told you to bring leftovers from your fridge so we could freestyle,” he says. He pauses when I tell him I had rigatoni with tomato sauce for dinner the night before. “Well,” he says, “you can put almost anything in them.”
Chinese New Year, the Year of the Ram, begins Thursday, and Jew will kick it off with a sold-out feast at Central Kitchen, where he plans to serve some of the dishes he will serve at Mr. Jiu’s, including the sticky rice. Another dinner at Mission Chinese Food on March 4 will give the public a second opportunity to try Jew’s food.
“Most of the traditional New Year’s dishes are about assuring good luck and money,” says Jew. “And this year,” he says with a smile, “I could use both.”