Fusion food: the fine art of mixing it Fusion food has traditionally appeared where communities live close to each other: so the British colonialists adopted and adapted the Indian lentil and rice dish kicheri to make kedgeree; the Chinese sailors who married Malaysian wives developed the spicy Nonya cuisine of the Straits of Malacca; and, more recently, the Koreans of Los Angeles gave birth to the Korean/Mexican fusion that led to kimchi, Korean pickled cabbage, spicing up tacos doled out at "food trucks" (burger vans to us on this side of the pond) all over the city. But while mix-and-match food may have taken generations to develop in the past, now, Ching says, "with the internet, and global travel, the exchange of ideas makes the process much faster." In fact the term "fusion food" first started tripping off restaurant reviewers" tongues in the Nineties with the arrival of "Pacific Rim" cookery, a blend of Oriental ingredients and European cooking techniques developed in the Antipodes and California. At its best, practised by New Zealanders such as Anna Hansen and Peter Gordon in their London restaurants, it involves thrillingly unexpected combinations, such as Hansen's miso and tamarind marinated steak, with acidity and spice that is missing from our home-grown cuisine. More recently, fusion restaurants are embracing more surprising combinations. Baku in London's Sloane Street serves sushi alongside Azeri specialities, and Sushisamba at the top of Heron Tower in the City is Brazilian-Japanese. Not that it is always a happy marriage. Japanese food is one of the most frequently abused cuisines. After all, there's nothing you can't put in a sushi roll, right? So at another Brazilian-Japanese restaurant in London, you can have an Italian-inspired confection that includes calamari, olive cream, basil and cucumber. Domo arigato, but no. But the Polish-Indian restaurant Namila in south London has plenty of fans, perhaps because Indian spicing is more adaptable to new ingredients than delicate sashimi and miso. Ching, meanwhile, has recently returned from Macau, the tiny peninsula of eleven square miles near Hong Kong. Although the area is best known for its casinos, she became entranced with its blend of Portuguese and Chinese food. A Portuguese colony for more than 400 years, Macau was an important stopping point on the trade routes, and so had the benefit of influences outside Iberia and East Asia - the travellers brought chillies from South America as well as spices and coconut from India. Cooking methods became interwoven as well, as the Portuguese brought roasting, grilling and stewing, none of them traditional to the Chinese. "Dishes like pork chop bun - Cantonese pork in a crusty Portuguese roll - were just so delicious," Ching reminisces. She has been inspired to cook her own Macanese dishes, such as a delectable rice dish that is somewhere between a Portuguese arroz de marisco and a Chinese fried rice. The secret of good fusion food is, she told me, "Don't mix too many flavours, and don't get too hung up on authenticity. It has to be absolutely delicious. That's the only rule. For demonstrations and recipes from Ching visit Ching He Hang.com; for more on Macau, visit Macau Tourism