Whatever You Do, Don’t Touch Your People Making Stick: Vietnamese Cooking 101

What Is Going On Here?

If there’s one thing you’d never associate with my sister and me, it’s cooking.  When I want to eat at home I don’t open the refrigerator, I pick up the phone.  (My refrigerator is reserved for storing stale dated condiments and booze.)  Beth isn’t much better.  So what came over us to sign up for a full day deluxe Vietnamese cooking class at a fine restaurant in Hoi An?  I blame Beth.   Whatever the cause, it’s the reason we showed up bright and early the other morning at a café in the heart of the old town, prepared for the worst.

The Red Bridge cooking school offers two single day classes; one a half day session for folks who are marginally interested in cooking, while the other is an intensive all day affair for master chef wannabes.  Beth and I obviously intended to take the half day class, but upon arrival at the meeting place we saw a room full of gray haired, dour faced seniors from Germany.  We were not pleased with the prospect of having to spend the next 4 to 5 hours with that humourless lot.

Fortunately, we spotted four much younger folks sitting at a table in a corner having a lively chat about traveling.  I strolled over to see what they were doing there in geriatric central and learned that they were the only ones who had signed up for the full day course.  Hmmm…  A half day with 20 bitter Germans, or a full day with four fun Australians?  We didn’t have to think twice.

Herb and Spice Garden

The agenda for the full day course consisted of several stops around town to pick up supplies followed by the class at a facility on the outskirts of town.  Our guide Su packed all eight of us (including herself and the driver) into a taxi and we headed to a local herb and spice garden.  It was a beautiful setting where herbs and spices have been grown organically for  many years. 

We strolled through the plots while our guide introduced us to the myriad of flavour accents available to the Vietnamese cook: Asian basil, several kinds of mint, dill, chives (grown for the tourists, the Vietnamese hate the stuff), sawtooth coriander, lemongrass, turmeric…  It was quite an astounding array.

“Yum!” one of the Aussie girls exclaimed while taking in the aroma of some freshly crushed Vietnamese basil.  “No say yum in Vietnam!” our guide cautioned.  “It mean you horny.  Even if you horny, not polite to say to Vietnamese people.”  Beth and I decided it would be particularly bad form for her or me to use the Y word.  The couples could potentially get away with it.  But just to be sure between she and I, everything was “tasty” from that moment on.



A Man With Dual Talents

 The herb gardens are still watered by hand.  An older gentleman was more than willing to show off his well honed technique of filling two large watering cans from a well, then swinging them in unison to evenly water the rows of herbs.  My guess is that as soon as we left he lit a butt and picked up a hose.  Even so, it was still entertaining all the same.

At the garden’s main house we watched women prepare some Vietnamese specialties, including shrimp and pork rice pancakes, and then we were offered a refreshing mint drink.  Our hosts of course didn’t tell us that the little floaty bits were frog eggs until we had all downed our beverages. 

 

NameThat Vegetable

The next stop was a local market where we would load up on food items. Vietnamese markets are similar to those in most other Asian countries.  They’re crowded, noisy, open air affairs with yelling vendors competing for the attention of hoards of pushy little shoppers.  Everything is on display and in your face, from exotic fruits and vegetables to raw fish and meat (a disturbing amount of which is still alive).




Recently Among The Living

 

We followed Su through the ramshackle maze of stalls while she introduced us to the various ingredients we’d soon be preparing.  We had an introduction to rice noodle making, and were filled in on the finer points of rice paper and rice pancakes.  She showed us an incredible variety of exotic vegetables and fruit, the names of which I will never remember.  (I was too busy playing a game of “guess what part of the animal that is?”)

None of us had had breakfast, so we were offered a Vietnamese specialty - duck embryos scooped straight from the eggshell.  FYI - they look revolting, have assorted crunchy bits, and taste (not surprisingly) like chicken.

Mmmmm!  Baby Duck!

We picked up the bulk of our produce from the same woman, leading one of the girls in our group to ask Su how Vietnamese shoppers choose which purveyor to buy from.  To us they all seemed to be selling the same stuff.  “Simple” she replied.  “This woman has nice smile.  Looks honest.  I buy from her.  Don’t buy from that woman.  She ugly.”  We were learning so much.

Our Torture Chamber

Armed with bags full of herbs and food, we once again stuffed into the taxi and drove to the Red Bridge Restaurant and Cooking School.  Nestled amongst exotic ferns and trees along the river, it couldn’t have been located in a more beautiful setting.  The open air teaching kitchen was situated next to an inviting swimming pool with plenty of refreshing breezes providing respite from the heat and humidity.  If only the whole spectacle didn’t have to be ruined by a cooking class.

But cooking was our focus, so cooking was unavoidable.  The menu looked delicious, if not a tad formidable: Hanoi Beef and Rice Noodle Soup, Lemongrass Shrimp Wrapped in Banana Leaf, Clay Pot Fish with Fresh Dill, and Grilled Chicken and Banana Flower Salad.  The other students were all amateur chefs and welcomed the challenge.  I was looking for a stand-in who never showed.





Yours Truly Making Rice Paper Under Het's Watchful Eye

 To ensure that Beth and I would be particularly humiliated by the whole process, we had an instructor whose demeanour was a cross between Julia Childs and Adolph Hitler.  Her name was Het and her playful foodie banter was often accentuated by “achtung” like orders to stir more vigorously or pay attention.  She’d demonstrate a procedure faster than a carnie doing the pea in the shell game, then hand the implements over to one of the students and slap our hands when we didn’t do it right.  Beth and I still have the bruises as proof.






Exotic Foreign Cooking Implements

 

Stir Faster!

Perhaps Het’s most poignant instructions came after we had all chopped up some particularly hot peppers.  We had some pretty lethal firepower on our hands (literally) and she had only our most precious interests at heart.  She wasn’t worried about our eyes or anything as rudimentary as that.  No, she ordered us all to head straight to the bathroom to wash our hands, and cautioned only the men to “Remember, whatever you do, don’t touch your people making sticks!”  I was liking her more and more as the day progressed.


 



Cooking Goes Better With Tiger Beer!



I liked her even better when after an hour or so she announced “Cooking goes much better with beer!”  At that point she unlocked the cooler and the Tiger Beer started flowing.  It’s not like I was counting or anything, but I believe the tally was four beers down before noon, and at least seven or eight each consumed before Het realized that she had some serious problem drinkers on her hands and promptly re-locked the cooler.

In the end, the class was a huge success.  Our group had tons of fun being ordered around by the cooking nazi, especially when we realized her methods were actually working.  Before we knew it, she had us making rice paper and noodles, grinding spices, folding banana leaves and generally emulating Vietnamese chefs like we’d been at it for years.



 

  When it was all over, we sat down to enjoy the fruits of our labour.  I’m quite serious when I say it was some of the best food I had during my entire time in Vietnam.  Each dish was packed with flavour, something I can’t say for most of the meals I have ordered in restaurants.  And those flavours were exquisite; beautifully balanced and absolutely bursting on our taste buds.  If the end product was any indication, we had passed our cooking class with flying colours!  Now, if only I can remember half of what we learned when I get home so I can replicate it all.  Oh well, not to worry.  I know there are plenty of Vietnamese restaurants in Vancouver that deliver.   



Best Pho EVER!

 

Best Salad Ever?  Probably!









You Call That a Banana Leaf?