Archive for January, 2008

My Life in France - Julia Child

About: With Julia Child’s death in 2004 at age 91, her grandnephew Prud’homme (The Cell Game) completed this playful memoir of the famous chef’s first, formative sojourn in France with her new husband, Paul Child, in 1949. The couple met during WWII in Ceylon, working for the OSS, and soon after moved to Paris, where Paul worked for the U.S. Information Service. Child describes herself as a “rather loud and unserious Californian,” 36, six-foot-two and without a word of French, while Paul was 10 years older, an urbane, well-traveled Bostonian. Startled to find the French amenable and the food delicious, Child enrolled at the Cordon Bleu and toiled with increasing zeal under the rigorous tutelage of éminence grise Chef Bugnard. “Jackdaw Julie,” as Paul called her, collected every manner of culinary tool and perfected the recipes in her little kitchen on rue de l’Université (”Roo de Loo”). She went on to start an informal school with sister gourmandes Simone Beck and Louisette Bertholle, who were already at work on a French cookbook for American readers, although it took Child’s know-how to transform the tome—after nine years, many title changes and three publishers—into the bestselling Mastering the Art of French Cooking (1961). This is a valuable record of gorgeous meals in bygone Parisian restaurants, and the secret arts of a culinary genius - Publishers Weekly

My thoughts: Other than recognizing her name, I knew little else about Julia Child before delving into My Life in France, which was a Christmas gift from The Astronomer’s mother Jane. Prior to moving to Saigon, I was obsessed with books about food—systems, memoirs, cookbooks, etc., but have been deprived of delicious writing as of late. This book rekindled my love for the genre and piqued my interest in France and its cuisine.

I took away a couple of things from My Life in France. First, writing a comprehensive cookbook on French cuisine is incredibly difficult. I can’t believe she tested recipes 50+ times! Second, life can be fulfilling without having kids. Third, living abroad/total cultural immersion is a beautiful thing. Fourth, it’s never too late to find a true calling or passion. Fifth, make time for those you love and travel to see them often. Sixth, copper bowls are superior for whipping cream.

Chè Nhãn

It’s gettin’ hot in HCMC.

The dry-season is in full swing and the days of motorbiking in the rain while donning ponchos is now a distant memory.

Unlike The Astronomer, I love the heat. It’s probably the result of my Saigon genes and SoCal upbringing. And even though it’s already suitably warm right now, according to my mom, after Tet is when the temperatures really soar.

The Astronomer is going to melt.

To stay cool and hydrated in times like these, the Vietnamese turn to chilled young coconuts and dessert-y drinks like chè nhãn.

Chè nhãn is made from nhãn (dried longans), sương sa (agar jelly) and served in a tall glass over ice.

Although not the prettiest chè on the block—that award goes to sương sa hột lựu—it certainly has its merits. Chè nhãn’s cool liquid tastes like a soda-less cream soda with hints of vanilla, while the sương sa’s playfully crinkly texture reminds one to take it easy or risk a stroke.

Chè nhãn can be purchased from most chè vendors. The glass above cost 2,000 VND from a chè lady on Ton That Thuyet Street in District 4.

Ngự Viên

IMG_6618

January 18, 2008
Cuisine: Vietnamese

40 Ky Dong Street
District 3, Ho Chi Minh City

Phone: 8437670
Website: none

Banh Beo - steamed rice cakes with minced shrimp, scallion oil, nuoc mam

Goi Mit - jackfruit salad with sesame rice crackers

Cha Gio - deep-fried rice paper with pork filing

Com Hen - rice with baby clams, herbs, sesame crackers, star fruit

Ca Hu Kho - fish braised in a clay pot

Sticky rice cakes, chicken sauteed with lemongrass

The Gastronomer and I recently paid a return visit to Ngu Vien to celebrate our friend Zach becoming Ashton Kutcher. All-in-all, the event was a success: the new girlfriend looked a bit younger than I had imagined and seemed surprisingly comfortable socializing with a bunch of recent college graduates, and the food was excellent. We were sufficiently inspired to follow up the luncheon with a triple date at the Saigon Superbowl, but that’s another story.

We started off the meal with some banh beo. I would have preferred to save it for Yen Do and order something more unique—why pay more for a dish that a streetside eatery does perfectly—but I couldn’t really complain about ordering an imperial classic at a restaurant specializing in Hue food. The banh beo was served individually in small dishes. It was well-executed, but I’ve decided that I prefer the version with all the cakes together in a large platter, drowning in sweet nuoc mam.

Next up was some goi mit and a plate of cha gio. The cha gio were hot out of the frying oil and quite tasty, but once again I would have been happy to wait and get them streetside. Served warm, the goi mit was really a standout. Less juicy and much heartier than most fruit-based salads, the dish’s flavors melded perfectly. The crunchy sesame crackers were an ideal vehicle for the mixture of jackfruit, pork, shrimp, and basil. We gobbled it right up.

In another foray into central Vietnamese cuisine, we decided to try the com hen. We’ve been told that this dish sucks in Saigon because the clams aren’t fresh, and indeed Ngu Vien was unable to recreate Hue’s magic. However, it was the best effort I’ve tasted around here–a worthwhile side dish.

Ever since our first meal at Ngu Vien, the Gastronomer has been raving about the ca hu kho, and she couldn’t resist ordering it again. It didn’t disappoint—although I find the plethora of small bones in the fish annoying, I would order it just to be able to pour the extra sauce on my rice.

Finally, we decided to try the chicken with sticky rice cakes. I really loved the little sweet pillows of fried sticky rice, and the chicken was delicious as well, if not particularly memorable. I’ve been impressed by the consistency of Ngu Vien’s cooking; I can’t help comparing it to Com Nieu Saigon, where the occasional horrendous dish nearly ruins the memory of the better ones.

While not entirely devoid of the typical Vietnamese eccentricities, the service at Ngu Vien is solid. They generally give you time to look over the menu without a waitress waiting awkwardly hovering over you, and the food comes in discrete courses rather than all at once. On this occasion we had a bit of trouble getting our white rice to arrive, but it was pleasant getting to savor a couple of dishes that actually felt like appetizers.

If I had a complaint, it would be that the place is somewhat lacking in atmosphere. It’s clean but not beautiful, and it has been nearly empty on both of our visits. This saddens me, because the food is terrific. Maybe toning down the neon signage and building a roof over the tables drove away their Vietnamese clientele. Or perhaps there are better crowds at dinner. In any case, I would choose the Ngu Vien experience over the gorgeous decor and hit-or-miss cuisine of the new Com Nieu Saigon any day. We’ll certainly be back.

Bánh Cóng

January 24, 2007
Cuisine: Vietnamese

Vuon Chuoi Street (toward Dien Bien Phu Street)
District 3, Ho Chi Minh City

Phone: none
Website: none

Bánh Cóng (4,000 VND)

At first glance, I thought the lady was frying up some bánh tôm tây hồ—battered and deep fried julianned sweet potatoes with shrimp. Upon closer inspection, I came to realize I did not recognize what was bubbling away in her oil-filled wok.

It is truly a red letter day in Saigon when I stumble upon a food that I have not heard of or tried before, and my encounter with bánh cóng on Vuon Chuoi Street (toward Dien Bien Phu Street) in District 3 was no different.

A close-relative of bánh tôm tây hồ and a distant cousin of bánh xèo, bánh cóng is golden in color and muffin-esque in shape due to the unique ladle-like mold it is assembled and fried in.

Bánh cóng is comprised of mung beans, shredded taro root and shrimps with their heads, tails and skin intact. Each ingredient is layered in the deep, metal ladle and dipped in a saffron and scallion batter before meeting the scalding hot oil.

After just a few quick minutes in the intense heat, the bánh cóng are freed from their moldings to develop a crispy exterior solo. The cakes are served piping hot with a heaping pile of fresh greens and herbs and the classic nuoc mam sauce.

What I find most special about bánh cóng are the layers of taro and mung beans that comprise the cake’s base. These two ingredients brown beautifully and create a substantial and dense cake that is satisfying in a way that only carbohydrates can be. The greens and herbs delicately mask the cake’s oiliness, while the nuoc mam sauce ties all the flavors together like a champ.

Running with Xôi

Sticky Business - clockwise from top left - xôi đậu đen, xôi đậu xanh, xôi vò, xôi nếp than

While living in Vietnam, I’ve developed a deep appreciation nearing on obsession for xôi (sticky rice). I’ve previously discussed my passion for the stuff here, here, here, here and here.

Xôi is cheap, filling, sweet or savory, and really easy to carry while running, which is absolutely essential because that’s the way I roll.

There are two vendors located on Ton That Thuyet Street that I usually frequent. One is a little skimpy with her portions, while the other is muy generoso. I visit the generoso one more often, but on her rest days, I buy from the stingier one. For as little as 2,000 VND, I’m set until lunchtime. Score!

My current favorite is xôi vò—sticky rice with coconut milk, sugar and mung beans. It’s so good, I don’t even miss cereal.

I purchased the other three varieties to spice things up a bit, but they were too bland to rank high.

The xôi đậu đen (sticky rice with black beans) and xôi đậu xanh (sticky rice with whole mung beans), while both high in fiber, were really boring. They needed a lot more oomph than what the bland shredded coconut provided.

The xôi nếp than (black sticky rice) was smeared with mung bean paste, sprinkled with sesame seeds and salt, and came with a baggie of sweet coconut milk. The jury is still out on xôi nếp than because I ate it without the coconut milk and therefore, the chef’s vision was incomplete.

I still need to try xôi đậu phộng, but after that, I think I’m tapped out of new xôi to try. Say it ain’t so!