A Thanksgiving Tale of Chopstick Diplomacy
Sixty-two years ago, as a college student, I spent Thanksgiving on the island of Quemoy off Formosa (as Taiwan was still called) eating Taiwanese turkey with chopsticks, accompanied by Taiwanese generals, and, oh, William F. Buckley, Jr.
Present day college students – or even their parents – may not have heard of Quemoy –or its twin island, Matsu. Or even Buckley, the highly articulate founder of National Review along with modern conservative thought.
When I shared this American tradition with Mr. Buckley, I only knew of his best-seller, “God and Man at Yale,” published in 1951, just after graduating from Yale. In it he took his alma mater to task for taking God out of the university.
He was a fervent Catholic.
I was taking a gap year from college to study in twenty-seven countries around the globe with eighteen other college students.
We studied at local universities and stayed with families who had college-aged students. In Taiwan I stayed with Walter and Laura Fe and their daughter, Silvia. Walter was Chiang Kai-shek’s Minister of Transport. The Fe’s had fled mainland China with the nationalists. Walter was a Harvard graduate and Laura had gone to Wellesley College in Massachusetts.
I had this plum berth because my father had been a war correspondent with the Office of War Information (OWI) in China during World War II. During my interview at Time, Inc. for a place in this exceptional study abroad program, I mentioned that my mother had been a reporter for FYI, Time, Inc.’s house organ, which also helped. Henry Luce, one of Time, Inc’s founders was a well-known supporter of the Chiangs.
I grew up with a romantic view of China, starting when my father returned from the war with a trunk-full of gifts for me, my sister, and my mother. My favorite gifts were my father’s delightful, illustrated letters he sent me and my sister while overseas…
…And my ivory chopsticks. By the age of five, I was a deft hand at wielding the ubiquitous utensils, especially when my father made his fabulous Chinese banquets.
Usually, our study group was given a two-week itinerary ahead of flying to a new country. The two weeks in Taiwan were different; we were living day to day. Our whereabouts were kept under wraps as the United States was involved in a tug-of-war over the Two-China policy.
Early Thanksgiving morning, we students and our three professors were bussed to a military airport and ushered into a DC 3, outfitted for civilian use. The only other passengers were Bill and Pat Buckley – he dressed in a preppy rumpled suit (the opposite of his famously elegant prose); she (who often made the best-dressed list), in a stylish red suit that had me wondering if the color was a faux pas, given the reason for the Buckley visit.
Once seated and strapped into heavy seat belts, we were shown how to put on the life jackets under each seat. We were going to Quemoy, flying at very low altitude to avoid mainland radar. I held my breath during the forty-five-minute flight as we skimmed the white caps of the Formosa Strait.
We were met at the small airport by English-speaking soldiers who drove us around the island, pointing out the fortifications with guns aimed at the mainland. One stop was fitted out with high-powered telescopes through which we could see the faces of the CCP soldiers looking back at us. We were allowed to photograph the fisherman on beaches and the mainland in the distance, but not any of the fortifications or the military escort
At midday, we were ushered through heavy doors into a tunnel. At the end of the tunnel was a large reception room, decorated with the American and Taiwanese flags. Ten round tables were carefully set with white damask cloths, napkins, and chopsticks.
After the toasts, individual bowls of rice were placed at each setting. We were politely shown how to pile on shredded turkey from a porcelain platter in the middle of a large lazy Susan and encouraged to add a sauce and condiments in bowls surrounding the main platter. Apparently, turkeys were considered a delicacy and often reserved for honored guests.
I was seated across from Buckley at this extraordinary Chinese banquet featuring Taiwanese turkey – not Peking duck – and had picked up the chopsticks instead of a fork at the lavish lunch. Taiwan was putting it all out for Buckley and we American students, who, hopefully, would return to the States, armed with a unique vision of the “legitimate China.”
Quemoy and Matsu were heavily bombarded in 1955 and again in 1958 by the CCP in attempts to scare Taipei into submission. The United States and China nearly came to blows over the small islands as the Eisenhower administration worried that the surrender of any Taiwanese territory would have such a demoralizing effect on the Republic of China that the regime of Chiang Kai-shek would collapse.
What the U.S. should do about protecting the islands played a large role in the 1960 presidential election between Kennedy and Nixon.
I’ve been wondering what Buckley would have to say about the dangerous pickle the United States finds itself in now. Would he utter his charmingly, glib, off-the-cuff toast “To Chinese and American Chop Stick Diplomacy” as he sipped Quemoy’s powerful homegrown eau-de-vie more than six decades ago?
Buckley had been the most articulate opposition voice in the ‘70s and ‘80s to those in Washington who wanted to engage Peking in Nixon’s and Kissinger’s Ping-Pong Diplomacy, even if it meant losing Taiwan.
From time to time, if I have leftover turkey, I make Taiwanese turkey rice, remembering one extraordinary Thanksgiving among old friends.
If you happen to find yourself with something left over from your Thanksgiving feast, here’s the recipe:
Taiwanese leftover turkey rice
Preheat oven to 350 F.
Turkey:
Shred 3 lbs. leftover cooked turkey breast
1 Tbsp, plus 1 ½ tsp kosher salt
5 scallions, trimmed, halved
1(2”) piece of ginger, peeled, sliced ¼” thick
8 whole star anise
¼ cup turkey stock
Cooked white rice
Sauce:
½ cup high-quality lard, turkey, duck or goose fat
16 shallots (about 12 oz.), shaved or very thinly sliced
1 head of garlic
¼ cup michiu (Taiwanese rice wine) or sake
¼ cup light soy sauce
¼ cup sugar
2 tsp freshly ground white pepper
3 cups low-sodium chicken broth
Directions:
Spread turkey in an even layer on a rimmed baking sheet; drizzle stock over; cover tightly with foil. Cook until warmed through (about 15 mins).
Heat lard in a medium saucepan over medium-low. Add shallots (it will not look like enough at first) and cook, stirring often until softened into a single layer, then continue to cook, stirring occasionally, until golden brown, 20 or 25 minutes total. (Shallots will crisp as they cool).
Drain shallots in a fine mesh sieve set over heatproof bowl. Transfer shallots to paper towels to drain; set aside. Heat shallot fat in a medium saucepan over medium heat. Add garlic and cook, stirring often until fragrant and just starting to color (about minutes). Add michiu, soy sauce, sugar, 2 tsp white pepper and reserved 3 cups chicken stock. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat and simmer, stirring occasionally, until sauce is reduced by half and glossy (about 25 minutes). Taste and add up to 2 ½ tsp. more white pepper if needed.
To serve: Place rice in large bowls and pile turkey over. Spoon 2-3 tbsp sauce over each bowl with reserved fried shallots.
Funny enough, even thought Quemoy and Matsu played such an oversized part in that 1960 election, and even though Nixon won the radio audience and Kennedy the TV, I don't believe there is anyone who will or can remember what their positions were! Nice story, so thank you and Happy Thanksgiving!
What a joy to hear such cogent and beautifully written prose about a time long long ago. I've been to mainland china both as a Communist and semi capitalist country as it is now. It is amazing to see how messy capitalism is compared to communism. I've never seen a more clear work in progress. Taiwan, on the other hand has been a strong government strong capitalist country during the same period just chugging along the road to prosperity.
Two people separated by uncommon economies.