I had the good fortune of
visiting Vietnam a number of times in the
1990s, on public health work. Those field
visits took place primarily in the north.
My prior experience in
Vietnam had been brief and happened two decades earlier. It also involved work,
though I was then a young Army Medical Corps malaria researcher based elsewhere
in Southeast Asia. It was in late 1974, after the US and the various Vietnamese
combatants had signed the Treaty of Paris ending the war that dominated my
generation. (Both of my brothers served in combat in the war.) When I was there
I experienced a tattered and depressed Saigon, capital of crumbling South
Vietnam, which was overrun by the North not too long afterwards.
Aside from my coming to
terms twenty years later with the defining events for most of us young
Americans of the mid-sixties, I found to my amazement the many Vietnamese I met,
formerly our enemies, were both charming and welcoming. I also learned how
wonderful Vietnamese food was, especially in the North.
During my 1974 visit to the
former Saigon, if I ate real Vietnamese food, I can’t recall it. War-weary
Vietnam back then, with the distant thundering and faint glow of artillery on
the horizons at night and floods of displaced people, was not a place to find,
much less relish, fine cuisine. I recall some vaguely Chinese dishes and, surprisingly,
some good French food at the “Guillaume Tell,” a restaurant near the waterfront
run by two stalwart French-speaking Swiss women.
By contrast, in Hanoi in
the 1990s I was delighted by the food in general, but particularly by the
grilled marinated pork and chicken that you were served at extremely low tables
and stools at tiny outdoor street restaurants straight from a glowing charcoal
brazier around the corner or up above you on the first floor landing of the nearby
fire escape. The flavors were exquisite, and you wrapped the grilled meat in
lettuce and fresh herbs, optionally added a few roasted peanuts, and dipped the
parcel into the elegant -- and ubiquitous -- Nuoc Cham dipping sauce.
Photography: Maria Dondero; Platters by Marmalade Pottery, Athens GA, Sauce Bowls traditional Vietnamese |
Here’s my effort at
reproducing that savory Hanoi street-restaurant barbecued chicken and its
accompaniments. I’ve made the dish frequently over the years. It was always a
family favorite, and was even the featured dish at the outdoor summer-time
wedding reception of my daughter Anna and son-in-law Andrew, who along with my
participation now own and operate Donderos’ Kitchen.
Several culinary notes:
the key seasoning in both the chicken and the dipping sauce is Asian fish
sauce, as it is throughout Vietnamese, Thai and Lao cooking. Used in the
quantities indicated, the finished products are not fishy, but rather rich and “umami”
laden. (In Athens, fish sauce [get “Squid” brand or the more expensive “Three
Crabs” brand] is available at Fooks Foods, as is Chinese Five-Spice powder.) I
substitute readily available sherry for the Chinese rice wine that would be
closer to the original, but it works well I think. And in Vietnam there would
have been more fresh herbs than just cilantro and mint to wrap into the chicken
parcels, such as culantro, Asian basil, and other leaves I didn’t recognize.
Beer was the drink back
then, especially Bia Hoi (freshly made local draft beer) or bottled “333,” the post-war
replacement for the French colonial “33” that was drunk in South Vietnam in the
old days. But elsewhere, I had learned from a fabulous Vietnamese cook who lived
in France and was married to one of my French colleagues that dry French rosés,
especially from Provence, go extremely well with Vietnamese flavors. Dry rosés,
well chilled, are still what I would serve with this Vietnamese barbecue.
The recipe serves six,
but it will go fast.
Vietnamese Grilled Chicken for Lettuce and Herb Wrap
2 tablespoons Asian fish
sauce (from Asian grocery store)
2 tablespoons sherry
2 teaspoons white vinegar
1 teaspoon grated fresh
ginger
1 very small clove garlic
put through press or very finely minced
Very small pinch Chinese
5-Spice powder (from Asian grocery store)
2 tablespoons sugar
1 teaspoon cornstarch
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons sunflower
or canola oil
2 pounds boneless,
skinless chicken thigh
Mix all ingredients
except the chicken in a large bowl.
Trim off excess fatty or tough
parts of chicken, leaving some fat. As chicken is trimmed, drop it into the
marinade. Stir well to coat chicken with marinade. After a few minutes, mix
well again. Either cover bowl with plastic wrap or transfer chicken and
marinade into a large zip-lock plastic bag. Marinate at least an hour, or as
long as 24 hours refrigerated, stirring occasionally or squeezing the bag to
mix.
Grill over charcoal or a gas
grill on medium heat, or under the oven broiler using a “cake cooling” rack on
top of a baking sheet to keep chicken off the pan. Turn pieces over
occasionally, until cooked and crisply browned in spots on the surface. Remove
to a cutting board. Slice crosswise 1/4-inch wide and stack attractively onto a
platter.
Accompaniments:
Lettuce (loose leaf or
romaine) pieces, cut into roughly 3-inch squares
Cilantro sprigs
Fresh mint leaves
(optional)
Finely chopped dry-roasted
peanuts (optional)
Dipping sauce (recipe
below)
Diners put chicken strips
on a lettuce piece, place leaves of various herbs on top, and sprinkle with some
chopped peanuts, if used. Spoon on a little of the dipping sauce. Wrap the
lettuce and enjoy.
Vietnamese Dipping sauce (Nuoc Cham)
1 medium clove garlic
1/2 cup plus 2 tablespoons
sugar
1/2 cup white vinegar or fresh
lime juice
3/4 cup water
2 tablespoons plus 2 teaspoons
Asian fish sauce
1/8 teaspoon salt, plus more to
taste
A large squirt of hot
pepper sauce
Crush garlic finely in a
bowl with the sugar. Mix in remaining ingredients. After 5 minutes, remove the
garlic bits. Taste and add a little salt or sugar or vinegar, if needed to your
taste. The sauce should be faintly salty and delicately sweet and sour. Serve
in one or more small bowl reachable by the diners.