Food has a way of bringing people together. It carries memories and emotions. This theme unfolds in two new memoirs by food writers Melissa Leong and Candice Chung. They share how food inspires us to take risks, heal, and express emotions we often can’t voice.
Melissa Leong gained fame as the first female and person of color judge on *MasterChef Australia*. In her memoir, Guts, she reflects on her experiences in the food industry and beyond. Leong started her journey in food writing after a brief career in corporate advertising. Encouraged in 2007, she launched her blog, Fooderati, and later transitioned to freelance writing with the help of mentors like Helen Greenwood and John Newton.
Leong describes her entry into the food world as a bit of a con, but notes, “Before food defined my career, it was always a guiding light.”
On the other hand, Candice Chung’s memoir, Chinese Parents Don’t Say I Love You, focuses more on her experiences over two years, colored with memories from her past. The narrative recalls 2019, during a time when Sydney faced devastating bushfires. After a decade-long estrangement from her parents, Chung began dining with them again while reviewing restaurants. She writes, “No one ever suspects we are working undercover… At the restaurant, we are a normal family.”
Food serves as their bridge to connection. Both memoirs emphasize themes of belonging, family, and mental health. Leong, daughter of Singaporean migrants, faced challenges fitting in at school as one of the few Chinese children. Lunchboxes often felt like a marker of “otherness.” Chung, who moved to Australia from Hong Kong at age 12, recalls her own awkward lunch moments, like frozen sandwiches her mother made to protect them from the Australian sun.
For both authors, food symbolizes their identities and struggles with integration into Australian culture. Leong expresses a deeper connection in her memoir, stating, “No Singaporean I know eats purely for sustenance. We’re obsessed with the romance of food.”
Both women have complex relationships with their families, especially regarding cultural communication. For Leong, sharing meals is a way to convey love in a culture where feelings aren’t outwardly expressed. She points out how food often bridges generational divides. Chung reconnects with her parents through food, linking her kitchen creations to memories of happiness and comfort.
Chung highlights her battle with mental health, noting her mother also struggled with depression during her childhood. Sharing a poignant moment, she recalls how her mother saved her favorite chips despite not discussing mental health. Similarly, Leong writes openly about her struggles with anxiety and burnout, underscoring the therapeutic power of cooking nourishing meals that helped her heal.
The food industry is rife with challenges, especially for women of color. Leong sheds light on the misogyny and racism she faced. She emphasizes the importance of diverse perspectives in food writing. Chung discusses how the legacy of food critiques began with pioneers like Craig Claiborne, who shaped restaurant reviews but often overlooked those of different backgrounds. She articulates the significance of “anonymity” in food writing, allowing her to document raw experiences without judgment.
The recent pandemic drastically affected the food industry, with Chung confronting the anxiety of potential closures as Covid-19 swept through, while Leong navigated her evolving role amid public scrutiny following the loss of co-judge Jock Zonfrillo in 2023. Despite the pressures, both find purpose and resilience in sharing their stories.
Each memoir reflects unique styles: Leong’s is dynamic and candid, while Chung’s is poetic and thought-provoking, even featuring a playful “choose-your-own-adventure” chapter titled “Self-help meal.” Both authors infuse recipes, illustrating how intertwined food is with their narratives, especially Leong’s creation of comforting dishes that echo her journey.
Ultimately, these memoirs reveal that food embodies love and connection, but they also reflect the complexity of personal and cultural relationships. For Leong and Chung, food isn’t just nourishment; it’s a means of understanding themselves and forging their identities amidst challenges.
