Tag Archives: Vegan

French Vietnamese

The audio for my presentation with Fuchsia Dunlop at Asia House is June is up. Happily, it went well, with a lot of kind questions and comments from the audience, despite one of the menu items, lemongrass creme brûlée, having to be dropped at the last minute due to serving bowl supply issues.

Fuchsia was a very generous interviewer, and amongst my friends it was lovely to see Freya, who supported my project at Asia House last year, as well as my university tutor, Lara, and my editor at the F-word, Ania. It was also excellent to work with the very vital Betty Yao and Paul Bloomfield, an old friend of Yan Kit So’s, who donated his catering expertise on the night.

Since then I’ve been working on my book proposal, rooting and growing some of the herbs that I used at the event onto my new terrace, and planning another trip to Marseille at the end of August to visit some of my Vietnamese family (+ attending to life admin, of course).

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Vietnamese Bal, (Kinh giới) on the left, and Perilla ( Tía tô) on the right.

I’ve been thinking a lot about France since going to Vietnam last year. I spent 6 days in Paris in April, since a friend of a friend of a friend, Chloe, was kind enough to lend me and Luke her little student residence studio in Montreuil, while she was at home for the Easter holidays.

I’d never spent long in Paris, although my dad had told me stories of incredible Vietnamese restaurants he’d been taken to in Paris’ Chinatown by my mum’s taxi-driver brother, Gerard, tales of decadent feasts and the lightest shredded beef salads imaginable. We struggled to find Vietnamese restaurants that even served any Vegetarian dishes in Paris, which goes to show how much the French love their meat, more exclusively than the Vietnamese or the British.

We finally found a little place in Belleville called Cyclo that did a vegetarian version of Bun Cha Gio – spring rolls and fried tofu on a noodle salad bed. Although the spring rolls were a little bland, the tofu was soft and well coated in a thickened soy sauce, and the bowl was dressed with delicious shreds of soft, caramelised red onion. This was not the onion-free, vegan Buddhist cookery I encountered so often in Vietnam. The overall effect was richer, with deeper, more meat-like flavours and textures than in tofu you get in the UK and Vietnam, which tends to just be fried hard, not marinated and soft.

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On the dessert menu was further evidence of decadent style French/Vietnamese hybrid cooking: a luxuriant Mango Creme Brûlée. There was no mango flavour in the creme, it came simply as a piece of fresh mango grilled atop the sugar, and almost looked like a piece of caramelised Vietnamese style clapypot fish.

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The owner of Cyclo, hailing from the South of Vietnam, claimed his tofu dish was a regional speciality, a Cambodian hybrid. Since I’d eaten versions of this dish in parts of Northern Vietnam, I was quietly sceptical. Indeed, at another good Vietnamese restaurant we visited with Chloe in Paris – Au Vietnam going towards Chinatown – the owner also explained the origin of another innovative soft and fresh tofu dish, this one served in a light sauce with fresh mango and lychees. She explained why it was called ‘Imperial’ tofu: it was a family recipe, and her family had apparently been Vietnamese nobility, which is supposedly why I had never encountered it in Vietnam.

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It was interesting to hear these various origin myths, which Vietnamese restauranteurs in England don’t seem to be as bothered about sharing. I suppose French restaurant go-ers are more keen to hear romantic stories of their country’s colonial history. And it seems that French restaurant-goers also expect something a little more from their tofu, they expect it to be rendered, flavoured and textured as you would cook meat, which is a good lesson for any vegetarian gourmande.

The Vegetarian Vietnamese: Food From The Jade Cave

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I’m excited to be building up to my presentation on 17th June at Asia House, where I will be interviewed by the renown Sichuanese Food writer, Fuchsia Dunlop, accompanied by lots of Luke’s beautiful photographs from Vietnam. I’ll be discussing the findings from my research into Vegetarian cuisine over there, via pagodas, vegan restaurants and the kitchens of many an excellent home chef, all with the help of Vietnamese friends and the Vietnamese embassy in the UK. We’ll then be serving everyone up a small platter of taster veggie Vietnamese food, recipes picked up along the trail, including ginger caramelised tofu, coconut and kohlrabi salad, mushroom spring rolls on a noodle salad bed and a lemongrass Creme Brûlée. Luke’s even preparing a soundtrack of all the field recordings he made in Vietnam. I’ve been testing the recipes myself and with Paul Bloomfield, who has kindly offered to sponsor the event, being a great friend of Yan Kit’s.

For more information and tickets see here, Asia House will also be launching the next 2014 Yan Kit So bursary for the next lucky aspiring Asian food writer to go travelling http://asiahouse.org/events/yan-kit-memorial-award/

Winter Returnals and New Year of the Horse

Happy year of the horse to you all, it’s good to see you again after such a long absence. I’m just about feeling normal again after returning from Vietnam with Luke a couple of months ago. And I can tell you, coming back from here to London after spending the Autumn in 28 C monsooning Vietnam was a brutal shock.

By the end of our travels, we were spending much of the daytime sitting on the pavement making notes and taking snaps whilst drinking fresh soy milk or tropical juice (my favourite was watermelon) and Vietnamese style coffee (an expresso shot mixed with lots of condensed milk and poured over lots ice). As my friend Giang told me in Hanoi, ‘in Vietnam, everything happens in the street’. Cooking, eating, socialising, selling, gambling, chess playing – it all takes place outside in the sun.

A lone cockerel takes a walk down the rainy streets of Hanoi.

A lone cockerel takes a walk down the rainy streets of Hoi An.

Iced Vietnamese Coffee at Tracey Lister’s Hanoi Cook School

Iced Vietnamese Coffee at Tracey Lister’s Hanoi Cook School

Iced lime juice with lemongrass, cinnamon and ginger syrups at Reaching Out Silent Tea House in Hoi An

Iced lime juice with lemongrass, cinnamon and ginger syrups at Reaching Out Silent Tea House in Hoi An

A roving street vendor selling vegetables from her bike in Hanoi

A roving street vendor selling vegetables from her bike in Hanoi

After this, imagine our sensory confusion at entering Costa Coffee at 6am one rainy November morning in Gatwick airport. We had been thrust back into this dark, cold, indoors city, wearing only sandals and multicoloured monsoon macs.

Apart from the weather, one of the biggest differences between the UK and Vietnam was the abundance of strictly vegan (chay) restaurants. They proved to be plentiful in every Vietnamese town we went, mostly run by the local Buddhist pagodas as a way of raising extra money.

A worker having lunch at Buddhist restaurant in Ho Chi Minh City, surrounded by books about the benefits of veganism

A worker having lunch at Buddhist restaurant in Ho Chi Minh City, surrounded by books about the benefits of veganism

Veganism was much more widespread there than it is in the UK. Most Vietnamese go vegan at least one day a month on special days in the Buddhist calendar. Eating vegan (an chay) in Vietnam also means avoiding garlic and onions so as not to inflame the senses. It’s all seen as a way of collecting good karma, and so as full-time vegetarians we were given a very warm welcome and were admired for what was seen as our holy and disciplined characters…

In these ‘chay’ restaurants we ate many special vegan dishes that I collected in my travelling journal. We had salads made from shredded banana blossoms, fresh coconut and kohlrabi, green mango; tofu that was caramelised, deep fried, curried, and marinated; mock meats made from flour spiced and crisped to taste like pork or chicken and then simmered in lemongrass and chopped tomatoes.

(Very) freshly pressed tofu sold at a small neighbourhood market in Hanoi.

(Very) freshly pressed tofu sold at a small neighbourhood market in Hanoi.

Fresh coconut and Kohlrabi salad at one of Hanoi’s most venerable vegan restaurants on Tran Hung Dao Street, in the old French Quarter.

Fresh coconut and Kohlrabi salad at one of Hanoi’s most venerable vegan restaurants on Tran Hung Dao Street, in the old French Quarter.

Occasionally the simplicity of the Buddhist food made it difficult for our palettes, accustomed as they are to the strongly flavoured food vegetarians tend to eat here in the UK. I confess that once or twice we ate pizza and missed hummus…

Even so, through contacts and friends I’d been able to make through The Vietnamese Embassy in the UK and organisations Vietpro and Longdan, we met up with many different home-cooks and chefs throughout Vietnam who were generously showed us into their kitchens of their homes, pagodas, training schools and restaurants.

One of the most special cookery lessons from Ms Anh Tuyet, a lady in the ancient Imperial capital of Hue who specialises in teaching vegan cuisine. Over half a day she taught me 7 local dishes, influenced by Hue’s unique regional vegetables (things like bitter figs and young jackfruit) and its tradition of complex, royal gastronomy.

Fresh green figs, or ‘vả’, commonly used in vegetarian cooking in Hue.

Fresh green figs, or ‘vả’, commonly used in vegetarian cooking in Hue.

Ms Anh Tuyet’s royal Hue cockerel, with dragon fruit for a body and chillies for a crown. His feathers are made from vegan spring rolls.

Ms Anh Tuyet’s royal Hue cockerel, with dragon fruit for a body and chillies for a crown. His feathers are made from vegan spring rolls.

The royal cockerel makes a second appearance next to Ms Tuyet’s mixed salad ‘Goi’ and Hue style stuffed, deep fried pancakes, ‘Banh Khoai’

The royal cockerel makes a second appearance next to Ms Tuyet’s mixed salad ‘Goi’ and Hue style stuffed, deep fried pancakes, ‘Banh Khoai’

The day after, we were shown around the organic gardens of Duc Son, a local pagoda and children’s orphanage, where the monks and nuns grow all their produce, including fresh green tea, mushrooms, aubergines and chillies.

A nun working as head chef in the restaurant in Duc Son pagoda.

A nun working as head chef in the restaurant in Duc Son pagoda.

An organic aubergine growing in the gardens at Duc Son pagoda.

An organic aubergine growing in the gardens at Duc Son pagoda.

A farmer at Duc Son pagoda, Hue, poses next to the mushrooms he grows for the nuns in a special shed.

A farmer at Duc Son pagoda, Hue, poses next to the mushrooms he grows for the nuns in a special shed.

A vegan feast cooked up for us especially by the nuns at Duc Son

A vegan feast cooked up for us especially by the nuns at Duc Son

Cooking, especially home cooking, is generally the domain of women in Vietnam. As we found when staying with my friend Lily’s family in Hanoi, many Vietnamese wives and mothers will wake up at around 5 or 6 am to make it to the local market and buy fresh ingredients for the day. They will then go to work full time, only to return home in the evening to cook again and care for their families. Lily’s mother was a devout Buddhist as well, which meant that aside from making wholesome vegan food every day, any spare hours were spent praying in her shrine on the balcony at the top of the house. Twice a week she would leave the neighbourhood, riding out fast on her moped to her favourite pagoda near Hanoi’s West Lake.

Spending so much time with female cooks illuminated my mother’s upbringing for me. Although my mother was born and raised in France and does not really speak Vietnamese, her parents were from Vietnam. When I applied for the Yan Kit So grant, it was because food was one of my most tangible ways that connected me to my mother’s heritage, and meeting so many Vietnamese women through cooking presented a new context for me to understand my mother’s own character and struggles, one that I hope to explore further as I write up my notes for the trip.

Banh Chung

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The unwrapping of the cooked, mung bean Banh Chung from its Banana Leaf raiments. The banana leaves dye the glutinous rice green and give it a faint smell of green tea.

Banh Chung is a steamed glutinous rice cake with a bean and sometimes pork filling that the Vietnamese traditionally make for Tet – the lunar new year. The cakes are boiled for about 6 hours in big stockpot and the whole process reminded me of making Christmas Pudding. Interesting that when making food for special occasions, totally different cultures have gone traditionally for that same soft, dense pudding texture.

There are many ways you can enjoy a slice of Banh Chung in the weeks following Tet – fry a piece in a little oil; microwave it; steam it. I made 6 and ended up having a microwaved piece for breakfast with a little sugar on top every morning for about a month until we’d eaten up all the cakes up. I sometimes ate it with a bit of pickled mouli as well, although be careful to use rice vinegar or you might end up with a kind of pungent, fish and chips style smell pervading your breakfast (my dad’s recipe). I was fine with that but it’s not exactly a delicate flavour.

 

I used this vegetarian starter recipe to make the Banh Chung – http://www.thekitchn.com/recipe-banh-chung-vietnamese-rice-cakes-164610. However, I increased the quantity of mung beans to 2 cups to give a more generous filling, and used a red onion. For next year’s Tet I plan to add a couple of Shitake mushrooms to the mung bean filling, to give it a more juicy texture and richer flavour that seeps into the rice, which is what pork fat does in the non-vegetarian version. If you wanted to make a sweet cake, you could also add some slices of banana to the mung bean paste, which I’m sure would be really soft and delicious. The cakes last in the fridge for a week but you can also freeze them for up to about a month, just make sure you freeze them soon after they’ve finished cooking.