All it took was one bite of Vietnamese food to turn me into a hungry student of the cuisine. That first mouthful inspired me with its hot, sweet, and spicy. Rice paper was a revelation. Fish sauce was a pungent wake up call. The perfume of a fresh kaffir lime leaf and lemongrass enchanted me and filled me with a desire to learn.
My first encounter with the cuisine of Vietnam was in the kitchen of a rocket scientist who lived in the neighboring town of Cambridge, Massachusetts. My friend Mark was a smart guy who loved to travel the world for science and food. The aromas emanating from Mark’s kitchen were unfamiliar. The pot on the stove—the source of all that I smelled—was covered to hide its contents. There a book-marked copy of Mai Pham’s “The best of Vietnamese and Thai Cooking” perched on the nearby counter.
I was in my mid 20’s, living just a short drive from my small town, and knew almost nothing about Asian food cultures. My knowledge went as far as what to order at the local sushi restaurant and Chinese take out spot.
“Close your eyes,” Mark said. He spooned a bit of the soupy broth from the splattered stove top. “Taste.”
The high-note spices, the sweet aromatics, and the delicate textures left me speechless. What was that flavor? Pumpkin? Coconut? I was in the thick of a culinary awakening.
Soon after this experience, I got the news I was accepted into film school. I packed my bags for Los Angeles, but just before I left, Mark gave me my very own copy of Mai Pham’s cookbook. That cookbook became my passport to food exploration and, eventually, a bridge to cherished friends. My copy is colored with more than a decade’s worth of experimenting.
My Five-spice Chicken Banh Mi is truly is happiness on bread.