Food creates meaning and memories. A single dish can even bring a lost past to the present.

Dave Faries here, asking what makes a meal memorable?

I bring this question up not only to plug our annual Eat + Drink magazine—might as well admit it—but also because food can create lasting bonds, express something of a culture, create destinations and more. Each year we explore the aspects of the culinary world in the magazine, which is inserted in the April 30 issue.

Even a single dish can tie loose threads of the past together. We recently prepared a dish I had never tried from a man I had only heard tell of that was once served in diners that closed decades before I learned of its existence.

The dish in question is Shanghai Jimmy’s chili rice, which is aptly named. It’s simply a layer of rice followed by one of chili and repeat. Some say that Jimmy James added a pat of butter—or worse, margarine—between each, as well. No, it’s not visually appealing. Yes, anyone who prepares it should set aside a few hours. But the result is surprisingly satisfying, which is why James and his chili rice are the subject of forums and articles around the world.

Well…in just a couple of places, actually. Shanghai, for one. Dallas is another. I live in Monterey and my mom is in Missouri, so that’s four.

James was either in the Navy or Army, depending on who is doing the telling, stationed in China. When he retired in the early 1920s, he remained and opened Jimmy’s Kitchen in Shanghai. Everyone went to Jimmy’s—especially sailors and servicemembers. My mom’s brother was one of the latter, arriving in 1940, passing through Shanghai and Jimmy’s on the way to the U.S. Marine post in what was then called Peking. Uncle Harold had one more encounter with James, and the memory of it lasted a lifetime.

I should mention that both Shanghai and Peking were occupied by Japanese troops. On the day of Pearl Harbor, the 200-plus Marines now stranded in enemy territory were captured, ending up in a POW camp. James was interned in a civilian camp. The Japanese knew of James, and on Christmas Day in 1942 allowed him to prepare dinner for the POWs. The Marines never forgot. Many even credited that one meal for saving their lives. But the ones who survived the prison camp lost track of James.

One day in 2009 I happened to mention the tale of James and Christmas dinner to some people in Dallas. They became excited, recalling his postwar Dallas dive, Shanghai Jimmy’s—long since closed; James died in 1990—and his chili rice, so beloved that it was said Elvis would stop by for a container (apparently how it was served) when visiting the city.

So when we made chili rice, it was with all of this in mind—a connection to family and distant times that could, until a couple of weeks ago, only have been imagined. Considering that people in Dallas still post stories of Shanghai Jimmy’s, and that someone reestablished Jimmy’s Kitchen in Shanghai in 2011 (which closed again during Covid), I will have it again…when we have three or so hours to spare.

If you want the recipe, I’ll be happy to share. And pick up a copy of Eat + Drink (or read it online here). It may stir a memory or two.