Jun 2008

Pasta with Eggs and Pork Floss

I’ve been eating chà bông ever since I was a kid. My grandma used to sprinkle it atop hot plain porridge and serve it for breakfast. For some bizarre reason, chà bông is known as “pork floss” in English. I loathe the term, but must admit that it is catchy and intriguing, especially for the uninitiated.

Here’s a little back story on the mysterious meat bi-product:

Rousong, also called meat floss, pork floss, or pork sung, is a dried Chinese meat item that has a light and fluffy texture similar to coarse cotton. Rousong is used as a topping for many foods such as congee, tofu, and savory soy milk. It is also used as filling for various buns and pastries, and as a snack food on its own. Rousong is a very popular food item in Chinese culture, and evident in its ubiquitous use in Chinese cuisine.

Rousong is made by stewing cheap cuts of pork in a sweetened soy sauce mixture until individual muscle fibers can be easily teased apart with a fork. This usually happens when the collagen and elastin that normally hold the fibers have been cooked out of the meat. The teased-apart meat is then strained and dried in the oven. After a light drying, the meat is mashed and beaten while being dry cooked in a large wok until it is completely dry. Additional flavorings are usually added while the mixture is being dry fried.

Five kilograms of meat will usually produce about one kilogram of rousong.

These days, I buy chà bông from a vendor in my neighborhood for 12,000 VND per 100 grams. She sells pork and chicken varieties that pretty much taste the same. I will conduct a blind taste test in the near future to confirm this hypothesis.

While I still love eating chà bông with porridge, my favorite preparation is with pasta. Nui chien (pasta with eggs) is one of the first dishes I ever learned how to cook—I think my aunt taught me how to prepare it when I was ten years old. The original recipe calls for Maggi seasoning sauce rather than chà bông, but I find that the salty stringy meat really enhances the overall flavor and texture.

The ingredients for this dish are simple—pasta, olive oil, eggs, salt, pepper and chà bông. After the pasta is cooked, I transfer it to a frying pan with a bit of oil, salt and pepper. Then I crack in two eggs and let it sit for a while on medium heat because I like my noodles golden and crispy.

I also like my eggs not-so-scrambled, so I keep the stirring to a minimum. Once the pasta is nice and fried and the eggs are fully cooked, I plate it, sprinkle a generous amount of pork floss on top and dig in. Since The Astronomer is not a fan of eggs, I make him an egg-less version that he likes quite a bit. Whenever I’m too lazy to go out for lunch or dinner, this is my go-to dish. It’s quick, easy and tastes like home.

How do you eat chà bông? And do you love or hate the term “pork floss?”

Jun 2008

Zen – Ho Chi Minh City

April 25, 2008
Cuisine: Japanese

20 Le Thanh Ton Street
District 1, Ho Chi Minh City

Phone: 8250782
Website: none

Yasai with lime, salt and miso ($1.50 per person)

Japanese Curry with Pork and Yams ($5)

Zaru Udon ($7)

Gyu miso yaki – U.S. beef with miso marinade ($3.80) and quail egg ($1.50)

Sunagimo – chicken gizzards ($2.20)

Chef’s special roll ($7.80)

Green tea ice cream with red beans and rice balls (complimentary)

Located amidst the sea of Japanese restaurants on Le Thanh Ton Street in District 1, Zen shows that there’s more to Japanese food than spicy tuna rolls.

A last minute reservation on a bustling Friday night left my dining companion and I seated at the sushi bar, which proved to be a serendipitously wonderful experience with chefs Linh and Linh manning the counter. Although it was my first visit, the chefs treated me like a regular, which made my evening not only delicious, but delightfully fun.

Though the main dining area is modest in size, Zen boasts a popular lounge and a number of private rooms where patrons can dine shoeless upon tatami mats in traditional Japanese fashion. Perhaps the most unique feature of the restaurant is the yakitori station located behind a glass window toward the rear of the room.

While perusing the extensive menu, we snacked on a serving of yasai that was placed upon the table prior to our arrival. The yasai consisted of cabbage, cucumber, jicama, celery and carrots served alongside miso, lime and salt. The raw veggies and simple sauces cleansed our palettes and prepared us for the meal to come ($1.50 USD per person).

The highlight of the evening was the Zaru Udon ($7 USD)-chilled, wheat-based noodles topped with shredded nori (seaweed) and served on a zaru, a sieve-like bamboo tray. A dashi (stock) broth comprised of mirin (rice wine), sugar, kelp, dried bonito flakes and shoyu (light soy sauce) accompanied the noodles along with pickled cucumbers and thinly sliced spring onions. The noodle’s texture was luxuriously thick, and they tasted phenomenal dipped in the light and salty broth with scattered bits of scallions.

To contrast the cool, clean flavors of the udon noodles, we chose a traditional curry ($5 USD) for our second entree. Although curry is quite popular in Japan, it has yet to catch on with international Japanese food enthusiasts. Thicker and milder than its Indian counterpart, Zen’s curry was hearty and full of tender pieces of pork and sweet yam. Now, this is soul food.

To round out our meal, we ordered a selection of yakitori including the uzura tamago (quail egg – $1.50 USD), sunagimo (chicken gizzards – $2.20 USD) and the gyu miso yaki (U.S. beef with miso marinade – $3.80 USD). Meat on a stick is Zen’s specialty and, as expected, it was deftly executed. The quail eggs, which were soaked in rice wine and coated in salty and sweet seasonings prior to meeting the grill, were simply satisfying. The chicken gizzards were the least flavorful of the bunch and a smidge over-cooked. The briefly seared beef with miso stole our hearts; it had been much too long since we indulged in meat this tender and rare.

Although we avoided ordering sushi this evening, Chef Linh insisted on making a special roll for us to close out our meal, and sweet offers are meant to be obliged. The roll he concocted contained everything but the kitchen sink—eel, crab, tomago (sweet egg), Kabayaki sauce, chili sauce, cucumber and slivers of avocado ($7.80 USD). The eel and Kabayaki sauce stood out among the plethora of ingredients within the sweet and filling roll. Making friends with the hardworking chefs behind the counter definitely has some perks!

In addition to the one-of-a-kind roll, the chef also constructed an off-the-menu dessert for us—green tea ice cream with red beans and rice balls. The red bean and rice ball elements reminded me of Vietnamese che but were more subtlety sugary. The green tea ice cream could have been firmer, but it paired surprisingly well with the red beans.

Come to Zen for the polished service and solid food, and you might just leave with a couple of new friends.

Published in AsiaLIFE Magazine June 2008

May 2008

Bánh Tét Chuối

A few weeks back, Vernon’s Vietnamese teacher Hanh hooked us up with a couple of Bánh Tét Chuối because she’s super-sweet and knows how much we love trying new foods. Even though it was meant for the both of us, I was the sole benefactor of the gift because The Astronomer doesn’t do bananas, something about the texture and taste rubbing him in all sorts of wrong ways. He doesn’t know what he’s missing out on.

Whereas regular Bánh Tét are filled with savory mung beans, pork and pork fat, these not so distant cousins contain finger bananas. No extra sugar is added, so the singular caramelized banana brings the bulk of the flavor. The most interesting aspect of Bánh Tét Chuối is how the steaming process turns the banana a deep magenta. I’m no chemist, but I’d say that’s a result of a chemical reaction!

Vendors selling Bánh Tét Chuối usually ride around town on bikes with the goods hanging from their handlebars. Expect to pay 2,000 – 4,000 VND for one, depending on the size.