Flavor Boulevard

Korean movie series are my soju. It’s for celebration, depression, even seeking motivation. I got motivated to learn Korean and to try Korean food. I made a couple of attempts in College Station, but it’s not a good idea to judge Korean cuisine from a local Chinese restaurant. The urge to understand why their food looks so appealing in movies overtook the resistance against chili pepper. So we went to Bellaire the first weekend I got home, to a Korean buffet.

Korean Garden Grille has a spacious feel (again, something of Texas that I will miss). I made a point to sample everything, and I almost accomplished my goal. I tried “beef seaweed soup” (no beef was visible, so I assume it was beef flavored seaweed soup?), 11 kinds of kimchi (not knowing most of the Korean names nor the veggie names), bulgogi, japchae (stirfried cellophane noodle), 7 kinds of fried egg/veggie (again, not knowing either the Korean names or the veggie names). The kimchi was mostly sour (a little more sour than pickled daikon and carrots, not as salty as pickles, much less aggressive on the back of the throat than the French pickled cornichon).

Above image: From left to right, first row: napa cabbage (wombok/baechu/cải bách thảo), don’t-know, don’t-know radish, bean sprouts; second row: not-sure seaweed, daikon-maybe? kohlrabi, no-idea. I tried a couple of angry-looking-red-peppered kimchi the angry-looking red-peppered odeng (first thing in the image below), but they weren’t too spicy (well, at least not in small quantities), the fried octopus (red, bottom right) was quite tongue-catching actually.

I finished a half mini-bowl of rice with just one piece of those. Now I’ve never been to a Korean restaurant before nor have I any Korean friends, so I’m just judging from the Korean movies I’ve watched: this place is typical Korean, rice is plentiful and brought out at the beginning (just like water), since (again, movie trivia) Koreans consider good eats cannot be without rice.

It’s also nice that the place has a grill at the table, and we can sizzle as much meat and shrimp as we want. Spicy smoke, fatty sound, savory emanation. Right next to a plate of fresh green-leaf lettuce (that’s right, not iceberg lettuce).

The meat is a little sweet, which is perfect. I am never a fan of eating uncooked veggie with cooked food. I think putting fresh bean sprouts into a bowl of hot phở is hideous, the textures just don’t cooperate. But nothing beats a lettuce wrap with beautifully-browned, well-cooked, well-seasoned meat inside. It’s marvelous. Although busy gorging I was, I also watched the Korean hostess got herself a plate: she wrapped a spoonful of rice and a piece of meat inside a lettuce leaf, making it the size of a tennis ball, and put the whole thing in her mouth at once. Now that is skill.

Fried veggie and egg. Beside the obviously must-be egg, I could pick out squash, but that was about it. Barely seasoned. No oil streaming out as I took a bite. They were all tasty appetizers.

The seaweed soup is warm and slender, almost like refreshment. Little mom preferred the daikon soup. Many thumbs up. I will definitely try more Korean food. Now, for spice-inclined diners, the taste might be a little too plain (except the kimchi) compared to other Asian cuisines, and it seems like not much salt was used. Cost: about $60 for 3 people. Sure, this is much higher than Chinese buffet, a notch above Kim Son Vietnamese buffet, but the quality is well worth it. I have proof.

UPDATE (July 2010): This restaurant is now closed, replaced by Saigon Buffet (opened May 2011).

This is it. My last day at TAMU, at least for a while.

Also my last meal at Sbisa for a while. I’ve eaten here almost every Sunday and used to eat here every dinner my freshman year (I was naïve and got a meal plan then).

They’ve raised the price since then too, so that if you don’t have a meal plan you have to pay about 25-30% more than those who do, but it’s an all-you-can-eat buffet, hence cheap for those with big appetite. With 8.25 you can make your own salad, make your own burger, wait in line for crepes, or do what I usually do: go straight to the main arrays of meats, veggie, rice, potato, rolls, etc. then head to the dessert and grab a cookie or two. Sbisa’s chocolate chip cookies are unrivaled.

They usually have someone cutting barbecued brisket or ribs too, poor guy cuts and cuts, so many students always stand around waiting for him with hawk hungry eyes.

The selection varies every day, but that’s a typical tray I get. You wouldn’t be able to tell, but I try to eat a balanced meal when I can. At least color-balanced: green broccoli and Brussel sprouts soaked with cheese, orangish yellow hush-puppies, red tomato, see? The fried chicken lady handed me 2 pieces when I asked for only 1. The rolls are usually good. It’s nice to make your own salad, I discovered that tomatoes and raisins make a good blend. On the tissue are pumpkin bread and some other bread (I want to say banana, but I’m not so sure). They’re ok. Sweet and mild, a tad gooey, not something I would seek for at a store, but not bad.

Read their blog. I’ll miss the meat abundance here in Texas. Well, really the abundance of everything.

(*): Sbisa, however, doesn’t have buffoons and drunken Germans as far as I’ve seen; some students who act like those, maybe.

Can you be overflowed with art? My afternoon started with a lecture on the dawn of Cubism (when abstracts paintings were still somewhat legible if you really try hard to make sense out of it). At 3 I rode in the car with my physics professor and advisor across the countryside to downtown Houston, filled our eyes with sight of uniform corn fields, carpets of bluebonnet (yes, they’re still out and blooming!), and relaxing cattle. At 5 we reached the Wortham center garage, parking for the Rigoletto performance later in the evening. At 5:10 we were at Artista, 2 blocks down the street. It’s owned by a Nicaraguan family, featuring South American dishes, ranging from high class to what you might find around the corner for a good tummy-filler. So I’ve heard. You’ve gotta have a nice dinner before an opera, spend your TA check of the week on a single meal, and feel good, right?

Act I: chupe. “maine lobster bisque, charred tomato and smoked panela cheese” is what on the menu.

I found lobster, corn, rice, and mysterious white cubes underneath the calm surface. Not unexpectedly, it was thick, a little peppery, just luke warm, and cries South American. The most interesting thing was the white cubes, which taste very much like tofu, except for the extra firmness, or perhaps the almost gummy-bear texture, plain and pure. Was that the panela cheese?

Act II: churrasco. I saw it on almost every dinner banquet menu, and I like my meat, so why not?

Beautiful combination of colors. At the left we have béarnaise, made from egg yolk and spices, but by itself it really doesn’t have much of taste other than fatty. In the middle, just a simple steak. On the right, (roasted ?) ripe plantain. This is the best thing. I had to sacrifice the meat to have room for the plantain. It was sweet and compact. It enhances the steak. Oh, did I forget to mention that we had plantain chips while waiting? So much better than potato chips and corn chips. Thin and crisp, but they break nicely, you don’t get a mount of crumbs in front of you. The Dominican in our group told us that they make the chips from green plantain, and keep the ripe ones for side dishes (like with the churrasco) and for dessert.

Now I couldn’t take a picture of my dessert because there wasn’t enough light. Half of the group was persuaded into getting the Tres Leches, and was very happy they did. A sponge cake soaked in milk it was, but it is much lighter than it sounds. The Dominican said that it’s their best dessert, the final touch that makes you come back, the ultimate satisfaction that you must have before you die. Well, it was good. But I like my rich cocoa tart with “fudge and chocolate ganache and coconut ice cream”, which was absolutely not coconut, but more like sweetsop sorbet. (Don’t let the name fool you, sweetsop, i.e. sugar-apple, is neither sweet nor apple, but rather pulpy and a little sour, and beware of the seeds if you’re eating the fresh one.) Well, does this swapping of tropical flavors occur on regular basis? I don’t know. I did enjoy my “coconut ice cream” very much, and the chocolate quiche too, but each on their own. The combination wasn’t a good match.

We were an assorted group of 15, several Americans, a Swiss, a Dominican, a Peruvian, a Mexican, a Vietnamese, a lot of wine, and different levels of cuisine adventurousness. Guess how much was on the bill? 1186 dollars and some. Well, of course it got that high because Dr. Agnolet and Sandi were kind enough to pay for most of it. But, there you go, physics students don’t always eat cheap. 😉

See the menu.

Here in College Station, the first weekend of spring break is a wonderful time to eat out (except on Sunday, when no non-chain restaurant is opened). Especially when it rains lightly and is cold. Like today. No students, little traffic, plenty of parking space. We tried out Madden’s today. I’ve been there before, but I tend to ignore street names and number, rely on my sense of direction and memory of the building’s color and architecture to find a place. It’s a mistake in downtown Bryan. Every building is about the same style, either stained white or bright red brick. We got lost, and hungry. But that’s ok, we were treated by crusty fresh bread and a very friendly waitress once we were seated. I feel bad when the waitresses say their names and I can never remember them. So-so oil dip, not too much of an enhancement. A little more butter on the crust than for those who are not interested in buttery fingers. Anyway, strong recommendation for the bread.

We did not have to wait long for our entrees. 3 plates, 6 crab cakes total. School work has kept me from blogging for so long I forgot to bring my camera, hence no pictures today. But the crab cakes were pretty, I assure you. Tasty too, if you’re concerned. At first I thought there was no way a polenta crusted crab cake and a seared crab cake could fill me up, each of which was about as big as a small clementine (with 2 flat ends, of course). But perhaps the aid of 2 squares of appetizing bread was more significant than I expected. I ended up stuffing down my last scoop of crab meat slowly as the eager waitress took away my plate. The lunch menu did disappoint me a little, what’s with tacos and quesadillas? It’s economic down time and all, but have some respect for the quiche and the creme brulee. How about a glass of Gemtree Citrine Chardonnay to go with a fish taco, your excellency? Geographically we’re close to Mexico, but some things just can’t stand side by side on a menu, you know…

Put it this way, at Madden’s, you pay a decent price for a good meal, in a cozy red brick room, served by a well-mannered waitress, it’s overall a very satisfactory experience, but not too high up there. Perhaps I’m just picky about what I see.

On the way home, we took a long detour on Texas 6 to watch bluebonnets blooming in thick formation on the hilly sides along the road. Rain and fog clouded our vision, but it feels refreshing to see spring time. Still the sporadic cold fronts are too harsh for buttercups, but little yellow daisies and Indian paintbrushes have lighten up. For completeness, here’s La Nuit, by Salvatore Adamo. There, sight, taste, and sound, for a rainy Saturday. 🙂

Wellsfargo has always been my favorite bank, for small reasons. Very recently I have one more small reason to like it. I usually go to this Wellsfargo bank on University Dr. Last Saturday morning, I saw these red envelopes (well, not as decorated as the one on the right, but still nice red ones) on the teller’s counter. I asked her how much they cost, and she said they’re free to take. I also overheard the tellers’ chatting about eating opossums. Now that is new. The teller who helped me said her grandfather ate them (but personally she wouldn’t want to find out how they taste). I wonder how they taste, but I wouldn’t go out of my way to get barbecued opossum with mushroom sauteed in melted mozarella cheese topped with grounded peanuts or whatever. Anyway, cultural thoughtfulness, generosity, friendly tellers, interesting conversations to gossip, what else can you expect from a bank?

*Red envelope is called “bao li xi” in Vietnamese.

Linh Son pagoda, Houston, click on the image to see more pictures of the pagoda.

Linh Son pagoda, Houston. Click on the image to see more pictures of the pagoda.
Although not all Vietnamese living oversea can take a day off to go to the pagodas on the first day of Tet, many manage to keep the tradition. Of course there is no strict requirement that one has to be looking at and praying to the Buddha at a certain day, for a certain amount of time, or with a certain prayer. Tet is not a religious based tradition. But many Buddhist and even non-Buddhists like to go to the pagodas on the first day of Tet to have a peaceful start of the new year, to feel spiritually lightened (hopefully enlightened as well) and pure on the important day. Many also choose to eat no animal product on this day, as it’s the new spring and every creature deserves to be happy and live in peace. Nonetheless, vegan restaurants are somewhat scarce in the conservative town, places with banh chung banh tet for sale don’t generally make the vegan version, and to deprive a Vietnamese of banh chung banh tet on a Tet’s day is somewhat cruel. So the pagodas take on the precious task.

Dua mon is pickled vegetables, here packaged in jars, and apparently on sale for $5? I believe I haven’t had dua mon. I’m not big on veggies in vinegar-sugar-salt mix, the only exception to me is pickled bean sprout (dua gia). But perhaps because every house during Tet is so overabundant with meat and glutinous rice, the dua being a bit tart, a bit sweet, crunchy, and light is a nice change in both taste and texture. In fact, with its economic nature and longevity, a big jar of dua on its own makes Tet in poor households.

Back to the star of Tet food. The square ones are banh chung, the cylindrical ones are banh tet. Banh chung is wrapped in dong leaves, banh tet is wrapped in banana leaves (theoretically). Banh chung declothed:

and quartered:

Mother got to the banh tet before I did, with a knife. I was 5 minutes too late to grab the camera. So here, in all gruesomeness, six “khoanh” of banh tet:

If you’re wondering, yes, their basic structure, except for the shape, is the same. Thick coat of glutinous rice outside, simple mung bean paste inside, since these are vegan banh made and sold at the pagoda. The meaty version of banh chung has lean pork amidst the bean paste, and that of banh tet has fatty pork. The outermost rim of glutinous rice is somewhat greenish yellow, naturally dyed by the leaves wrapping them and the long cooking process, in which they are submerged in water for hours. Banh chung was born in the North of Vietnam over 2000 years before Jesus was born, and especially made for Tet and Tet only. It even has a myth to explain its symbolism. Banh tet was its little brother, made for easy cooking and carrying, more popular in the South, available in one form or another all year long. The rice layer is soft and gummy, the bean paste middle is a little salted and sweetened. It’s vegan, but it doesn’t lack flavor. It’s really really heavy though. One khoanh of banh tet for breakfast and I was full from 10AM until 7PM! I would have been starved otherwise, classes all day, and school cafeterias don’t serve vegan food. That means if you like to keep yourself reasonably full, with 6 bucks you are full for 3-6 days of banh tet, and 4-8 days of banh chung. Pretty good huh?

There are several things to do during Tet in Saigon. It’s not a one-day holiday, it’s a season, similar to Christmas in form and Thanksgiving in spirit. The holiday is lunar-calendar based. It starts on the 23rd of the 12th month, the day to “cung dua ong Tao“, a ceremonious dinner to see off the Household God as he takes his annual trip to heaven. It ends on the 7th day of the 1st month of the new lunar year. In the first week, there are spring flower markets on Nguyen Hue Street and water melon markets in Dakao. Water melon used to be available during Tet only, and there used to be only one kind – the green outside, red inside kind. Now there are yellow, striped, even cubic watermelon! There’s the sound of the gongs and the drums of mua lan (lion dance) in the neighborhood. There are thousands of crimson red Chinese sausages packaged, displayed not so far from deep green banh chung and banh tet. Hmm… it just crossed my mind that the main colors of Tet are also red and green, like Christmas… There is orange from the kumquats, shiny gold from the newly polished copper censers, and yellow from the flowers. Chrysanthemums for small vases on the altars and mai for display in the living room or the garden. My mom used to say, when she took off the leaves of the mai tree (to make room for its new leaves and blossoms), she could feel Tet is coming in the air. For big families with the tradition of making their own banh chung banh tet, Tet comes when they sit around the huge pot of cooking banh, warmed by the fire, chatting the hours away. After giao thua (Tet’s eve), the second week of the holiday starts. It’s the first week of the new spring and the new lunar year. It’s time to go to the pagodas, to be nice with others, to relax and enjoy oneself. That’s why “thang gieng la thang an choi” (the 1st month is the month of fun).

Do I have a month of fun to celebrate Tet now? Hehe, certainly not. I did have over a month of fun and total laziness for Christmas break, however, thanks to Texas A&M’s generosity. But school started last Tuesday; and this Monday, in all splendor of the first day of the new lunar year, the most important day of Tet, I will haul my backpack on the shoulder and go to class from 10 till 5:30. Good start. I will be hardworking and learn a lot the whole year. The Vietnamese living overseas have at most a Tet party on the weekend or the night before. A Vietnamese physics hermit spends giao thua alone with research and movies. But above all reasons Tet is the time to be with family. My family is here, so my Tet is here. 🙂

*The blog title is inspired by Lê Phố’s painting under the same name.
**The painting is Fleurs by Lê Phố, 1960, oil on canvas. Since I couldn’t find a free image of L’approche du Tet online, I thought Fleurs would be an appropriate substitution.

They never blink. They never wag their tails. They never mutter a sound. I can never tell what they are thinking or feeling when I look at them. I like them deep-fried, or pan-charred with salt, lemongrass, and pepper, but that’s mostly because of the seasoning mix they’re fried with. By themselves, they are cold-blooded creatures with a distinctive smell, tiny bones resembling oversized needles, very little fat, and worst of all, flaky meat. They’re quite abundant in Vietnam, both alive and cooked. I even like the dipping sauce made out of them. I just don’t like them. Something about their meat freaks me out, or perhaps it’s the childhood memory of having a bone of them stuck in my throat that damages my feeling for those footless fellas. I would have never done it, but my mom, craving for some motherland’s taste, ordered canh chua cá (fish sour-soup) when we went to Kim Son the other day. How could she… fish and soup? Well, it turned out to be the best dish on the table.

Canh is soup. Usually the vegetables in canh are leafy greens, and because canh came about before the French and potatoes arrived in Vietnam, there is no canh with potato. There are, however, canh with taro corm, cassava, sweet potato, and other kinds of starchy roots. A special kind of canh most suitable for summer weather is canh chua (sour), because the mix taste of sour, pepper-spicy and sweet is just cool. The sourness comes from tamarind (fruit and young leaves), starfruit, pineapple, tomato, or lá dang, a kind of sour leaf. Is there sour soup in Western cuisines?

Usually I am indifferent to canh chua at my best mood, because usually canh chua is inseparable from our footless flaky friend. The combination canh chua and fish is adored across the delta, in various menus, and has followed the southern Vietnamese immigrants overseas. It is so southern and so countryside that almost certainly the delta farmers would invite you a bowl of canh chua when you visit them during lunch time. There is also canh chua with shrimp and pineapple, and somewhere in her memory, my mom knows that there is canh chua with chicken, however rare. Fatty meat (pork, duck, beef, etc.) is not allowed. The broth must be clear. The fish must be from fresh water: catfish, snakeheads, climbing gouramis, “pangasius krempfi” (ca bong lau),… Canh chua can’t be cooked with seawater fish because they’re too fishy to be overpowered by the sour benefactors. Ok, what else is there for background check… a bowl of canh chua often has many kinds of vegetables beside the citric star of the act, these add-ons include bean sprout, the stems of night-scented lily (I learn so many new names blogging!), okra,… Native villagers use almost every edible plants they can find in gardens and ponds, so there is hardly any fixed recipe for canh chua. That’s the beauty of it, food is not supposed to be fixed.

The bowl of canh chua we had at Kim Son has every criterion of tasty canh chua, from the sweet-n-sour clear broth to the finishing touch of hot pepper paste. Pangasius krempfi is no longer fishy, just a tender, juicy piece of white flesh (sorry, I just can’t bring myself to saying any fish is good). If you look at the top corner of the picture, there it is, nuoc mam nguyen chat (pure fish sauce) in all splendor, no additional seasoning, a dapple or two into your canh chua to trigger the salty-crave taste buds. Frankly I am quite disappointed at the sight of jalapeno in that nuoc mam. Authentically it must be red pepper, cayenne, thai, etc. Jalapeno is Mexican, canh chua is Vietnamese, and this is not the time for cultural exchange.

What do I like the most in canh chua? The night-scented lily stems. In Vietnamese people call it a dangerously misleading name, “mint”. Minty? Not really. It’s crunchy, finely porous, similar to lotus stem, it stores the broth so well that each bite pours in your mouth a stream of warm, peppery, sweet and sour. Sensational!

Almost every Sunday we make a trip to Bellaire to get the usual supply of patechaud, cha lua, banh gio, and the like. Almost every Sunday the question’s asked: where will we eat today? Well, there are two choices: the all-too-familiar Kim Son, and the more adventurous find which can be anything Little Mother saw in the local Vietnamese newspaper ads. We’ve had our handfuls of adventurous finds, all are good, but as usual smaller places don’t have a big selection, the menus are either common banh mi and pho, or grandiose names we don’t particularly care for. Mother is also easily shy away by the appearance of a restaurant: if the setting doesn’t look good, the food won’t taste good. So back we headed to Kim Son today…

We opted for the popular choice of a lunch buffet. We got there early enough, meaning at 11, when it’s just opened and there was banh canh. 15 minutes later and it was all gone. Out of banh canh noodle they said. The soup is not left unattended like the rest of the food trays known and visited by many. No, that would have reduced the availability to 5 minutes. It’s hidden in the right corner of the diner, in something can appropriately be called a kitchen box, with fellow roasted ducks and another noodle soup of the day. You go over there, order, stand around watching the cook slap a bunch of noodle, shrimp and pork, and pour a couple ladles of steaming broth into your bowl, you go back to your seat and start slurping. It’s really slurping, even chopsticks have a hard time holding the noodles in place long enough, don’t even try spoon and fork. They’re quick, short, round, and annoyingly feeble. It’s too easy to break them, but it’s hard to put them in your mouth before you flick a drop of broth to somewhere it shouldn’t be. The taste is worth the sloppy embarrassment, though. Banh canh and hu tiu are somewhat similar, the final touch in each bowl is a dollop of mo hanh (chives stir fried in lard and fried shallots). It adds savoriness, enhances the mix of meaty and sweet. A very hearty soup. I even drank the broth. The small bowl is a perfect belly hit.

Not to be healthy I packed a few frog legs and fried shrimp-pasted toasts down my throat afterwards. Great baguette. Frog legs would have been great too if not for the irritatingly overloaded hot pepper. When something’s hot, it’s just hot. Hot overpowers everything. Can’t taste another daggum flavor, if there were any. Dunno about you but I find that boring. The meat is kinda dry (I would be too if I were covered in hot pepper) and sinewy. But they do look sporty, don’t they? 🙂

The other soup of the day was bun bo Hue, which we’ve had, and I’ve blogged, here. Looks good, eh? Spicy, too. It’d be good to have intermittent sips of water, given you have a full glass. Kim Son is usually crowded after 11:30, at which time there are too few waiters for too many tables, and it’s expected that you fend for yourself. Yes, that means no refill. Vietnamese scoffers are used to drinking only after the meal anyway. They believe that drinking during eating would result to feeling full immaturely, or making your belly bigger. Maybe that’s why my jeans feel tight…

We heard dapples of fireworks last night, other than that, everything was normal. TV had the usual shows, roads had the usual cars, the usual air, the feeling of a usual day. Isn’t that strange? New Year came quietly in this town, but with all the bombing and protesting around the world, I suppose a quiet peaceful New Year’s Eve is a nice New Year’s Eve. No champagne, no confetti, no wishes, no counting down. We slept.

But how about some black eyed pea? 🙂 Not only is it a traditional American New Year’s food, it always appears in a baby’s first (and most important) birthday in Vietnam (quite a connection, I know… but a good bean, isn’t it?). The word “đậu” for bean, or pea, has the same spelling with the word for passing (an examination), chè is a dessert, so chè đậu trắng is a sweet food of good luck for the beginning of something. Cooked until soft, washed with cold water, the hard “black eye” part of the testa taken off, then cooked again with sticky rice and preferably brown sugar, the beans melt in your mouth. In an average pot of che dau trang, you see the sticky rice makes a gluey protection of the beans, the seed coat is still just a tad chewy, your jaws and tongue will enjoy a mix of texture. This might be exclusively enjoyable for those with an eye on texture food, myself included. In a good pot of che dau trang, you can see each grain of sticky rice and each shapely pea, but each spoon will only give you a sweet, nutty, almost homogeneous mixture. Oh, can’t forget the slightly salty, thick and fat coconut milk, of course. Coconut milk makes everything aptly better.

Coconut milk sneaked in here too… A small cup of chè bột báng (tapioca chè) from Lee’s Sandwiches. The big pink and green balls have mung bean paste inside, the little ones are your usual tapioca marbles in bubble tea (only slightly bigger and not dark brown). There is no sticky rice, but there is a teaspoon of pan-dried sesame seeds atop. Chewy and sweet is the main theme che bot bang shoots for. It’s pretty light.

Che is a vegan snack. Sticky rice, bean and coconut are about the main ingredients in any kind, some have fruits or roots, but eggs and milk stay out of this business. So how many variations of che do you think there are? Quite a few, actually. Chè bắp (corn), chè bột báng (tapioca), chè bột khoai, chè củ năng (water chesnut), chè củ mài (a kind of yam), chè chuối (banana), chè đậu xanh (mung bean), chè đậu đen (black bean), chè đậu đỏ (azuki bean), chè đậu trắng (black eyed pea), chè hạt sen (lotus seed), hạt mít (jack fruit seed), chè hạnh nhân (chesnut), chè nhãn (longan), chè khoai lang (sweet potato), khoai môn (taro), khoai mì (cassava root)…, and many others I haven’t tried. Are there similar desserts in other countries? I don’t know, but certainly not in the US, where people say ew to soy milk (and not to raw clams). Kim Son, quite to my disappointment, has stopped serving che dau trang for some while, but still has chè trôi nước, another familiar dessert of the Vietnamese, especially in the North, where some call it bánh trôi, as it’s a ball floating in sugar liquid. Such simple name is made simpler, pronunciatively, by the Southerner, when they turn it into chè xôi nước: xôi – sweet sticky rice (the coat of the ball is indeed made of sticky rice flour), in nước – (sugar) water. The stuffing is, surprise surprise, Mung Bean Paste. Sweet outside, mild and nutty inside. A beast to work your jaw. Doesn’t it remind you of banh it? Sprinkle some sesame seeds and spoon in coconut milk for a homey taste of the countryside.

Off to a well-seasoned new year, everyone! 🙂