gas•tron•o•my

Okra (American English: [ˈoʊkɹə], British English [ˈəʊkɹə], [ˈɒkɹə]), also known as lady’s finger, bhindi (Hindustani) and gumbo, is a flowering plant in the mallow family (along with such species as cotton and cocoa) valued for its edible green fruits. Its scientific name is Abelmoschus esculentus.

The species is an annual or perennial, growing to 2 m tall. The leaves are 10–20 cm long and broad, palmately lobed with 5–7 lobes. The flowers are 4–8 cm diameter, with five white to yellow petals, often with a red or purple spot at the base of each petal. The fruit is a capsule up to 18 cm long, containing numerous seeds.

The species apparently originated in the Ethiopian Highlands, though the manner of distribution from there is undocumented. The Egyptians and Moors of the 12th and 13th centuries used the Arab word for the plant, suggesting that it had come from the east. The plant may thus have been taken across the Red Sea or the Bab-el-Mandeb strait to the Arabian Peninsula, rather than north across the Sahara. One of the earliest accounts is by a Spanish Moor who visited Egypt in 1216, who described the plant under cultivation by the locals who ate the tender, young pods with meal.

From Arabia, the plant spread around the shores of the Mediterranean Sea and eastward. The lack of a word for okra in the ancient languages of India suggests that it arrived there in the Common Era. The plant was introduced to the Americas by ships plying the Atlantic slave trade by 1658, when its presence was recorded in Brazil. It was further documented in Suriname in 1686. Okra may have been introduced to the southeastern North America in the early 18th century and gradually spread. It was being grown as far north as Philadelphia by 1748, while Thomas Jefferson noted that it was well established in Virginia by 1781. It was commonplace throughout the southern United States by 1800 and the first mention of different cultivars was in 1806.

Until I moved to Saigon, I never knew that okra or đậu bắp made an appearance in Vietnamese cuisine. I always associated the vegetable with southern specialties like gumbo.

In Vietnam, đậu bắp is most commonly found in a soup called canh chua alongside pineapples, tomatoes, and upright elephant ears (bac ha). I’ve also encountered it sauteed and served as a side dish at restaurants specializing in broken rice and paired with raw meets at DIY grilling eateries.

In my experience with Vietnamese-American home cooking and restaurant fare, đậu bắp is pretty much non-existent. Is it just me or has đậu bắp lost its importance in Vietnamese food abroad?

Momordica cochinchinensis (Lour.) Spreng., commonly known as gac (IPA: /ˈgæk/, from Vietnamese: gấc, or quả gấc [quả meaning “fruit”]; in Chinese: 木鳖果), is a Southeast Asian fruit found throughout the region from Southern China to Northeastern Australia. It is also known as Baby Jackfruit, Spiny Bitter Gourd, Sweet Gourd, or Cochinchin Gourd. It has been traditionally used as both food and medicine in the regions in which it grows.

Because it has a relatively short harvest season (which peaks in December and January), making it less abundant than other foods, gac is typically served at ceremonial or festive occasions in Vietnam, such as Tết (the Vietnamese new year) and weddings. It is most commonly prepared as a dish called xôi gấc, in which the aril and seeds of the fruit are cooked in glutinous rice, imparting both their color and flavor.

Other than the use of its fruit and leaves for special Vietnamese culinary dishes, gac is also used for its medicinal and nutritional properties. In Vietnam, the seed membranes are used to aid in the relief of dry eyes, as well as to promote healthy vision. Similarly, in Traditional Chinese medicine the seeds of gac, known as mubiezi (Chinese: 木鳖子), are employed for a variety of internal and external purposes.

While I can’t vouch for the medicinal prowess of gac fruit, I can attest for its brilliant dying properties, especially in the form of Xôi Gấc. I’m a little afraid of staining my fingers and clothes, but  one of these days I must purchase a gac fruit to taste in its purist form.

With the exception of xoi, I have very little experience with guc fruit. Dear readers, how do YOU (or your mama and grandma) eat and use guc fruit? I am very curious…

The Soursop is adapted to areas of high humidity and relatively warm winters, temperatures below 5 °C will cause damage to leaves and small branches, and temperatures below 3 °C can be fatal.

Comparisons of its flavor range from strawberry and pineapple mixed together to sour citrus flavour notes contrasting with an underlying creamy roundness of flavor reminiscent of coconut or banana. The fruit is somewhat difficult to eat, as the white interior pulp is studded with many large seeds, and pockets of soft flesh are bounded by fibrous membranes. The soursop is therefore usually juiced rather than eaten directly.

Nutritionally, the fruit is high in carbohydrates, particularly fructose. The fruit also contains significant amounts of vitamin C, vitamin B1, and vitamin B2. The fruit, seeds, and leaves have a number of herbal medicinal uses among indigenous peoples of regions where the plant is common.

In Saigon, soursops (mãng cầu xiêm) are primarily used for making smoothies (sinh to) because they are too big to be eaten in one sitting and contain stubborn seeds that can be difficult to remove. In fact, I had a soursop smoothie before tasting an actual soursop.

All this changed a couple of weeks ago when The Astronomer and I purchased a whole soursop for 23,000 VND in Binh Thanh District. Since it was quite ripe, I carried it like a baby on the motorbike to make sure it didn’t bruise.

After refrigerating it overnight, we dug in the following afternoon. The soursop’s peel was a cinch to get off and didn’t even require a knife. I cut the fruit into chunks, which did require a knife. True to its name, the soursop is indeed sour, it’s also unbelievably juicy and a smidgen fibrous.

It took us five whole days to eat the entire thing and I found that with each progressive day, the soursop grew sweeter. When I first ate the fruit, my mouth felt a little raw due to its acidity, but that totally subsided by day three. Cool beans.