A Bite of China is a remarkable documentary about Chinese food. In a sense, good food and good grades are the two pillars of success in our society. As we take food seriously, the soundtrack to A Bite of China draws effectively on classical idioms to convey the philosophical depth and cultural richness of Chinese cuisine. Eg. Season 1 Episode 3: the first few seconds of the opening flute melody has almost become a music motif that means fooooood in China
So when Long Yu’s new recording of Elliot Leung’s Chinese Kitchen appeared, I was genuinely excited. The premise seemed promising: a powerful musical medium—the symphony orchestra—applied to a subject as evocative as Chinese cuisine. I expected something vivid, colorful, and imaginative.
Bruh…
The music feels overly simple, with a great deal of repetition. The rhythms, in particular, are surprisingly unadventurous. I am not expecting rhythmic complexity on the level of blues, jazz, or Latin traditions, but even a modest degree of rhythmic variation would have helped. As it stands, Leung rarely moves beyond a predictable, squarely structured 4/4 pulse. Some passages are quick, but speed alone does not generate momentum. There is little sense of propulsion beneath the surface. The music proceeds steadily—almost too steadily, in a very square and predictable way.
The melodic writing is similarly predictable, and the harmonies just fall into familiar clichés. There are accidentals and surprises but feels like Leung just put them there so that he don’t fail the homework. At times, one might easily mistake the score for generic film background music. The transitions between sections are also rather conspicuous and somewhat stiff, as if the composer were assembling blocks of material rather than shaping a continuous musical narrative. The shifts from one motif to another rarely feel organically motivated. In a concert hall setting—where audiences listen with close attention—these structural limitations become difficult to overlook. Leung clearly has good ideas, but perhaps not quite enough material to sustain a ten-movement suite lasting forty-five minutes.
The album benefits from distinguished performers: Long Yu and the Shanghai Symphony Orchestra. Yet the recording does not fully showcase the orchestra’s refinement or the conductor’s interpretive personality. Many repetitive passages are simply repeated without much transformation. Long Yu has undoubtedly succeeded in branding the music to a broader audience, but one cannot help wishing that he had brought more nuance and delicacy to the shaping of these textures.
In comparison, the A Bite of China soundtrack—ironically written as documentary background music—feels more vivid and inspired. Part of the difference may lie in the spirit of the project. The composers and producers of A Bite of China seemed to approach their work with a certain humility toward the subject matter. When artists fully devote themselves to the craft, they sometimes reach expressive heights they did not originally anticipate.
But…
Am I being too harsh? Perhaps not, if one holds Leung to the standard expected of a twenty-first-century classical composer. But perhaps yes, as a picky listener. So returning to the music itself, there is still much to appreciate. Leung writes sincerely, following his own instincts. The score carries a genuine sense of warmth and affection for its subject. And importantly, Leung didn’t sugarcoat himself and bullshit us with the kind of overwrought “contemporary” gestures that sometimes feel like the emperor’s new groove.
For that reason alone, the work deserves some generosity from its listeners. I would happily buy a ticket to hear it performed live. It may not be anyone’s Symphony No. 9, but it remains a thoughtful contribution to the repertoire—and an intriguing attempt to translate the culture of Chinese cuisine into orchestral sound. And an exam for the orchestra as well. It’s not a piece of cake: eg listen to Deep Fried River Prawns — the music is as difficult as the cuisine itself.