Vietnam with Patricia

I’d follow Patricia and Walter Wells anywhere.  And I did.  When I read last summer that Patricia and Walter were offering a Taste of Vietnam class, I jumped at the chance.  I had wanted to go to Vietnam for about 10 years now, mostly because of the food, but also because of my romantic (yet mistaken) view of Vietnam as a sort of “Frenchified” Asian country.  Other than some colonial-style architectural influences, I didn’t see much lingering evidence of France’s presence in Vietnam.  But I did feel an unsettling (well hidden) undercurrent of disdain for Americans.

I loved the peace of being on my own in a different world.  I love “vacation mode” when I can be almost a different person.  A woman of leisure.  Hah.  I swam laps and lazed by the pool by day, watched iTunes downloads and read books by night.

I loved everything about Patricia and Walter’s

I loved everything about Patricia and Walter’s class:  the food, the ambiance, the laughter, and the camaraderie.  The private villa at the Nam Hai (with personal butler and private pool) that butted up against China Beach was like something I’ve only seen in movies.  I loved the luxury of it all.  A big change from the farmhouse.  But I did not love Vietnam.

Perhaps my stay was colored by the sharp stomach pains that kept me up all night.  Every night.  Something I ate the first day in Hoi An did not agree with me.  I finally gave in and called the doctor, though the antibiotics just made me more queasy.  In truth, my stomach never recovered until I got back to Japan.  And I still feel lurches from coffee, shrimp and pork.  So no, I did not love Vietnam.

Bin Vietnam.  Despite the kindness of many, 

But there was another reason for my malaise in Vietnam.  Despite the kindness of many, I quickly felt strangely foreign and alienated in a way I had never felt in Japan.  I stepped off the plane in Da Nang and a smiling driver from the hotel was waiting, sign in hand.  He handed me a lavender-scented ice-cold towel and motioned to the bottle of chilled water perched in the holder in front of my seat.  Cold water and icy towels scented with ginger, lime, or flower essence greeted each change in locale throughout my stay in Hoi An, and were thoughtfully welcome touches.  But on that ride into Hoi An, I chatted with my driver.  The first of several disconcerting conversations during my 12-day stay.  Despite a fairly competent knowledge of English, the driver showed no reaction to any of my responses to his questions.  Considering my blond hair and Western face, “I’m from Japan,” certainly deserved more than an impassive smile and a nod.  It was as if my words just hovered close to his ears, then veered off into space.  He heard them, but did not listen.  Over and over, I experienced that phenomenon in the following days.  Gradually, I became inured to the insincere overtures, and also less and less inclined to initiate conversation that was merely pro forma. And as my ill ease grew, so did my feeling of alienation.  By the time I left my first hotel for Patricia’s cooking class at the fabulously decadent Nam Hai, I was fairly anesthetized emotionally.  And my stomach never seemed to get better.  I’m a “mind over matter” kind of person, so daytime, I weathered through, it was the nights that were tough. 

There I was in the fabulous villa, with my 

There I was in the fabulous villa, with my personal butler, Trung and a private pool where I could swim laps day or night to work off the numerous, yet deliciously flavored dishes (and equally generous amounts of wine).  Of course, I could not pass up trying any (especially Patricia’s), because that was what I was there for.  To cook Vietnamese food.

Patricia approaches French cooking with a light hand and is a master of the menu, so I always come away from her classes having learned so much more than cooking.  And I always look at Patricia and Walter as models of grace as hosts and as organizers (even under stressful cooking conditions such as outside kitchens and unfamiliar ingredients).  Neither ever loses their cool (unlike me), so I continue to be in awe of them and hope to move more in that direction myself.  I get fairly snappy and impatient when I’m cooking for a crowd, though truth be told, I’m more visibly relaxed thanks to mentors like Danie Dubois, Patricia Wells and the crew at Chez Panisse. 

My favorite meals were ones orchestrated by Patricia and I will certainly make many of 

My favorite meals were ones orchestrated by Patricia and I will certainly make many of those once I feel more kindly towards Vietnamese food.  Walter’s Spicy Lime and Lemongrass-Cured Beef Salad, Char-Grilled Eggplant Salad with Fresh Mint, Saigon Baguette Sandwiches with Pork Terrine, homemade mayonnaise and pickled vegetables (yum!)…oh there was much, much more.  

I was less excited about a couple fusion restaurant cooking classes, but we had I was less excited about a couple fusion restaurant cooking classes, but we had

an 

I was less excited about a couple fusion restaurant cooking classes, but we had an absolutely unforgettable meal at a little beach side place on Cham Island.  There was a lightly dressed pea vine salad with peanuts that was to-die-for, along with some native scallop-type shellfish grilled on the open fire.  Our Italian dive master guide picked us up some small one-day dried local squid, threw them on the fire and passed the squid around with a dish of salt and pepper into which we squeezed a piece of lime.  Heaven.  But then, that is the kind of food I love, wild and fresh, straight from the land or sea.

Patricia Wells’ Pork with Green Beans, Ginger and Fresh Coriander:  Tear off tops of ½ lb thin green beans, boil for 1-2 minutes (depending on thickness, they should be no longer raw, but still crispy), refresh in a large bowl of icy cold water and cut into ½ to ¾ inch pieces.  Sliced white part only of 6 thin spring onions into ¾-inch lengths.  Fine chop: a couple small cloves of fragrant new garlic, fresh ginger (5 Tbsp) and fresh summer lemon grass bottoms (1 Tbsp).  Measure 4 Tbsp rapeseed or peanut oil into a large frying pan and, without heating, stir in the chopped garlic, ginger and lemon grass.  Heat over medium flame and cook until it smells heavenly and is lightly colored (about 5 minutes).  Add 6 oz. lean ground pork from the butcher and cook until the meat separates into clumps up and is just cooked through (about 3 minutes).  Reduce flame to low, and add 2 tsp Vietnamese chile sauce, 4 Tbsp garlic chile sauce, 1 Tbsp Vietnamese fish sauce (Phu Quoc or 3 Crabs), the blanched green beans and spring onion pieces.  Stir gently, but thoroughly to blend flavors.  Cook for 1 or 2 minutes more, serve with 1 Tbsp pan-roasted sesame seeds or peanuts (chopped); a generous sprinkling of chopped fresh herbs (cilantro, and mint or Thai basil) and a bowl of rice.

minutes more, serve with 1 Tbsp pan-roasted sesame seeds or peanuts (chopped); a generous sprinkling of chopped fresh herbs (cilantro, and mint or Thai basil) and a bowl of rice.

Cham Island "Pea Vine" Salad with Peanuts 

Cham Island Purslane-like salad with Peanuts 

 

Air Dried local Squid

 

Comments

[Garrett]

So sorry your trip was marred by sickness and indifference. Still it sounds like you found a lot of good things there, both in the food and surroundings! =)

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Garrett: The cultural part was way over the top for me. Who would have thought? Where did it all come from? Mexico is a piece of cake, but in Vietnam the cacophony of beeping horns and scooters drove me to distraction. The hawking store owners made me cringe. What is wrong with me?

I squatted on the street and ate some little thimble-sized deep-fried batter cups set on a bed of random green herbs and slivered onions with little banana leaf-wrapped sausages. You drizzle some fish sauce with vinegar over the dish and mix in a dab of hot chile paste (fantastic). The cook and her assistant were lovely and real...despite...or perhaps because of...our language differences. I ate there twice. Because it was real.

[Laura]

I was in Vietnam for 3 weeks in January. Its intensity is unmatched in my experience, and yes, Mexico is a breeze in comparison. But my experience was very different from yours. It was a lot to stomach, indeed, but I found it fascinating and the people welcoming. They seemed proud--even smug to Americans--but remarkably forgiving and progressive-minded. This contrasted starkly to the ambivalence and superiority I sensed in many Americans' reactions to the idea of visiting Vietnam.

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Laura: There is no question that dicey food in the first couple days resulted in a relentlessly unforgiving stomach and this colored my experience in Vietnam. Definitely. But more to the point, I had some personal epiphanies about my place in Asia and in Japan. I saw Vietnam through the eyes of an ex-pat, no actually "foreign-wife-there-until-I-die" resident of Japan. Sure I saw those silly tourists and their ridiculous behavior. But that was not about me. I wasn't really interested in them. I compartmentalize, so have no problem separating myself from being "the American." Perhaps what was most disconcerting was that it was not my Asia. Japan, I know...Vietnam, not at all. When all is said and done, I think I'll just return to traveling in the countries where I can at least communicate in French, Spanish or Italian. Oh sure, I speak Japanese, but I don't need to travel in Japan because I live here.