Imperial cuisine on a pauper's budget
Vietnam is a colourful passing parade for the visitor, complete with
tasty
treats. And don't forget to stop and smell the lotus.
It must have been a great life for Emperor Tu Duc, ruler of Vietnam from
1848 to 1883. Not only was he able to sit and write poetry in an
exquisite
setting, but at every meal he had 50 chefs preparing 50 dishes brought
to
him by 50 servants. And listen to how he enjoyed his tea.
Every night, the tea leaves would be placed in lotus blossoms and
collected
the next morning infused with the delicate lotus scent. They would be
brewed
with the overnight dew on the lotus leaves.
As in many parts of Asia, the lotus is prized in Vietnam as a symbol of
purity and perfection. Every part of the plant is eaten or used, the
flowers
gracing shrines and altars, the stamens made into an aromatic tea.
The seeds are dried and boiled and used for making sweets, cakes and
puddings. The candied lotus I tried at Saigon's Sofitel Plaza Hotel was
a
big kid's dream! The stems are peeled, sliced and added to soups and
salads.
The bulbous roots, which taste like chestnuts and have a beautiful lacy
pattern, are used in braised dishes and soups.
The leaves of the lotus plant are used to wrap rice and other foods for
steaming. The finest example I encountered was at the Hoi An Restaurant
in
Saigon, a classic wooden two-storey house serving food with imperial
flair.
Dishes such as rice pancake with crumbled shrimps, roasted duck, sauteed
chicken with lemongrass and delicious grilled eggplant with spring onion
and
chopped nuts were presented on plates that were a sight to behold.
And while the prices were imperial by Vietnamese standards, they were
decidedly cheap by our own, three of us eating very well for around $50.
One
of the best things about travelling in Vietnam is being able to eat like
a
king on a pauper's budget.
But it was the Hoi An's simple dish of steamed rice that was the biggest
surprise, wrapped in lotus leaves like a beautiful parcel, with lotus
seeds
crunchy like chickpeas sprinkled throughout.
Lotus plants nudge the road between Hanoi and Halong Bay, not one spare
inch
wasted in this heavily populated country.
Lush green rice paddies extend as far as the eye can see, traffic
roundabouts spill forth with edible plants, rows of banana trees line
the
rivers and prawn farms jostle for space as we approach scenic Halong
Bay.
If rice is a mainstay of the economy, so too is coffee, grown in the
highlands and exported in huge quantities. Brewed in individual filters,
Vietnamese coffee is sweet and strong. Served with condensed milk, it's
a
taste you either love or hate. As well as producing a liking for coffee,
the
French colonial influence gave the Vietnamese an appreciation for
baguettes
and ice cream.
Givral, in Saigon's Dong Khoi Street, has plenty of ambience but despite
being listed as a must by some of my guide books, its ice cream did not
live
up to expectations. More to my liking was the ice cream at Fanny's, near
Hanoi's picturesque Hoan Kiem Lake, where the mango sorbet and cinnamon
ice
cream hit the right spot on a hot, humid day.
Although boundaries have blurred, Vietnam still has regional
specialities
such as the banh khoai of central Vietnam, small golden pancakes made of
rice flour and eggs, filled with prawns, pork and bean sprouts. I
sampled
these at the Mandarin Cafe in Hue, and while I tasted better ones in Hoi
An,
the cafe is worth a visit if only for its brilliant photos taken by the
owner, Phan Cu.
The food in Hue reflects its status as a former imperial city, and this
was
nowhere more obvious than at the Tinh Gia Vien restaurant, in a private
villa in the Garden of Tranquility. Madame Ha, who traces her descent to
the
imperial household, hovered over the restaurant like a hawk, proudly
discussing the dishes, her garden filled with bonsai trees and the
knick-
knacks on display.
Appearance is everything in imperial cuisine and our 11-courses came in
an
amazing assortment of shapes: papaya and carrot flowers, a pineapple
lantern
holding appetizers, spring rolls shaped into a peacock, rice shaped as a
tortoise, and others shaped as a dragon and phoenix.
We were amused to see that whereas the $US10 ($A18) set-course menu
included
shrimp and fish, the $12 menu had "bigger shrimp and bigger fish" and
the
$15 menu "bigger shrimp, bigger fish and elephant".
Presumably, this referred to quantity rather than size, for the prawns
on
the $10 menu were already jumbo-sized. And we were relieved to learn
that
the elephant referred only to the shape of the dish.
In the central Vietnamese port, Hoi An, the speciality is coa lau, a
combination of thick rice flour noodles, bean sprouts and greens, pork
croutons and slices. It is said that true coa lau can only be made from
water drawn from the Ba Le well, apparently because of its clarity and
high
calcium level. But more likely the secret lies in the noodles which have
been made by the same family for more than 100 years.
In Hanoi, the speciality is cha ca, fried fish with dill, turmeric, rice
noodles, peanuts and an optional pungent fish sauce. The Cha Ca La Vong
Restaurant, 14 Cha Ca Street, has been cooking only this dish for more
than
a century. The surroundings are downmarket, there is no menu and no-one
takes your order. Everyone knows the drill: the sizzling fish delivered
to
the table in a pan over a charcoal burner.
Northern Vietnam is the birthplace of pho, pronounced fur, a hearty rice
noodle soup served with chicken or beef. Its popularity has spread
throughout the country and beyond. In the south, it is possible to see
entire villages making rice paper, thin wrappers made from rice flour
and
water then sun-dried on bamboo trays.
Even from a tour bus, Vietnam is a passing parade of vignettes: women
wearing conical hats and carrying bamboo poles with baskets of fresh
produce, chickens and ducks for sale on the side of the road, pigs being
taken to market on the back of motorbikes, and people squatting to cook
and
eat on the footpaths.
The Vietnamese love their food and eat constantly. Don't wait too long
to
go. It's changing fast.
By Christine Salins - The Canberra Times - September 11, 2002
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