A taste for umami
MSG should never have been outlawed
A “No MSG” sign hangs limply in the window of Kenny’s Noodle House on SE Powell and 82nd Ave. The fluorescent bulb likely hasn’t illuminated in years. Carnage, a relic of a pseudoscientific anecdote penned in 1968 that led to a decades-long prohibition against a salt-like additive that persists in the unsuspecting (and uneducated) imagination to this day.
“Chinese-Restaurant Syndrome” was written by Maryland pediatrician Ho Man Kwok. The gist: neck numbness forced him to question his immediate diet. The offending agent, he believed, was Chinese-American food, leading to his bit of hearsay:
Others have suggested that it may be caused by the monosodium glutamate seasoning used to a great extent for seasoning in Chinese restaurants.
Published in the otherwise prestigious New England Journal of Medicine, the letter drew a few laughs and lots of racism. Thus began the legacy of cheap Chinese food—“cheap” meaning both “inexpensive” and “impure”—derived from a misinformed letter that should never have been published, but which was seized upon by Americans with an anti-Chinese bent.
Not even necessarily malicious, mind you, but in that “let’s squint our eyes and try an offensive accent” sort of way that passed for adult humor for too long.
Well, for some, malicious, as the line between poor comedy and xenophobia can be hard to discern.
As Colgate University assistant professor of writing and rhetoric, Jennifer LeMesurier, calls it a “tacitly racist game of telephone,” adding,
The doctors responding to Kwok were using his letter as an opportunity to make puns about Chinese food and generally joke about this problem. But the journalists at the time saw these messages' hyperbole as actual cause for alarm.
Since MSG contains only one-third of the level of salt as table salt, intrepid companies use it to lower sodium levels in their products—such as Doritos. Not all Doritos, however, as Frito-Lay still maintains a no-MSG page on its website for wary American consumers.
Yet MSG is a naturally-occurring salt. It appears in some cheese and tomatoes. First isolated in 1906 by an inquisitive Japanese biochemist, MSG is now widely used to enhance soups, gravies, ramen, condiments, snacks…it’s everywhere.
And yes, too much has been shown to cause discomfort, as with all chemistry. Some report feeling off with even a little, which is possible, though MSG is GRAS (generally recognized as safe) in America while European food monitors permit its usage to certain levels. Clinical trials have shown MSG to be extremely safe with little evidence of bodily harm, suggesting some of the reported “offness” could be psychosomatic.
We know MSG is safe, and for many of us, delicious. Yet after I published a short video about this topic on social media, a number of people commented that they can’t get within a hundred yards of it. (I’m being hyperbolic.) And yes, food reactions are possible, and I don’t want to minimize that.
On a cultural level, however, progress is often excruciatingly slow. Sometimes, we even slide backwards, which seems like a mantra for the modern world.
We don’t have any such grievances. In fact, I wouldn’t have known about the whole race-baiting history of MSG if not for Callan. And so she notices the relic of a sign as we enter Kenny’s, and we’re thankful that our meal will contain this delectable additive.
Life without umami would be sensorily tragic.
Donuts for dinner
Kenny’s is easy to miss. The building is shoved back inside of a parking lot, tucked behind Killer Banh Mi on 82nd. The left turn is atrocious, as are many along Powell. We discover a mostly empty lot, save a Tesla with an older man impatiently pacing as he waits to pick up a giant cardboard box filled with takeout containers.
No frills inside, but all heart. I order Beef Brisket Noodles with Vegetables. Callan goes for the Rock Cod Congee (Chinese rice porridge). She regularly makes Jok (Thai rice porridge) at home. A fine tradition of comfort food, and economical, as you utilize leftover rice. What happens next is up to your imagination, and thankfully, her imagination is vast, and delicious.
The brisket is more tender than I expected, bolstered by the texture of the noodles. There’s no spice to speak of, but the combination of beef and noodles is hearty, the flavor bountiful.
The congee is even more muted. Before I accept a spoonful, Callan reminds me that this dish is more about texture than flavor. So what misses my mouth on first touch is immediately understood when sliding into my stomach. Warm, filling, soul affirming.
As she often comments about such dishes: feels like home.
We split an order of Chinese donuts, the dish that brought us to Kenny’s. Think oily churro, not Blue Star. Filo layers crumbled under my tongue, rounding out the textural profile of the main course. Slightly sweet, though again, more textural than flavorful.
This meal gets me thinking about textures as a category. The few I don’t enjoy. Durian. Scallions. Gelatinous cheeses. Like scent, texture informs our sense of taste.
A parallel example: we recently dined at That Indian Place in Kauai. When inquiring about spice levels, the waiter offered mild, medium, spicy, or Indian spicy. He pointed to a potted Thai chili plant on the outdoor patio with a bit of pride. Given that’s what we mostly cook at home, we went with Indian spicy.
Neither of us are fans of heat for the sake of heat. Spice adds a layer of flavor to support the dish, not overwhelm it. Both the Dal Makhani and Lamb Rogan Josh were expertly spiced, the heat rolling in shortly after the bite, carrying the flavors through to the final swallow. There, the heat dissipated, not wishing to further assault the senses. Sure, a sniffle here or there, but no burning lips or sweating foreheads.
Textures bring their own surprises, their own layers of enjoyment. The Chinese donuts add crunch to support the porridge; wrapping a bit of brisket into the pastry, a jolt of sweetness mingles with the stringy pectorals.
A perfect autumn meal: comforting, toasty, like an afghan wrapped around your shoulders as the sun fades.
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