By Kitty Morse
"Fly to Hue: Being like a farmer at Eco Garden," said a listing on the itinerary for my tour of Vietnam. As a cookbook author and farm advocate, there is nothing I like better than exploring a garden, especially one hugging the legendary Perfume River.
Hue, once an Imperial City and now a World Heritage Site, lies midway between Hanoi and Ho Chi Minh City (formerly Saigon). Its imposing Chinese Citadel suffered major damage during the "American War" and is undergoing extensive UNESCO-funded restoration. Inside the moat-rimmed Citadel the Forbidden Purple City was once home to a Mandarin emperor.
Yet less known to the outside world is that Hue is renowned for its cuisine.
"Hue is the kingdom of food in Vietnam, especially vegetarian food," our guide said when we arrived.
Indeed, he added, 70 percent of Hue's population is Buddhist. Thus, our first order of business after checking into our downtown hotel was to obtain a recommendation for lunch.
"Go to Han restaurant for authentic local cuisine," said the concierge as he stood on the hotel's front steps to point the way.
We followed his directions for two blocks toward this gastronomic landmark. The noise from dozens of conversations reached us even before we stepped into the expansive eatery, whose 50-foot facade is open to the street. To say it buzzed with activity would be an understatement.
Families spanning generations sat at long wooden tables slurping aromatic bowls of pho broth laced with unidentifiable greens. Businessmen engaged in conversation over small rice pancakes bulging with bean sprouts, shrimp and leafy herbs. Children bit on diminutive pork satay dipped in addictive nuoc-mam-laced fish sauces. A foursome of foreign backpackers practiced their chopstick skills on slippery shrimp-filled "Vietnamese ravioli" made from rice noodles. Everyone washed down the meal with complimentary glasses of iced green tea.
The exotic scents mingling with the hum of incomprehensible conversations only increased our appetites. Our host handed us a menu as soon as we had found a table. When he saw us hesitate at the array of dishes listed, he suggested a tasting menu featuring some of Han's specialties.
We soon faced a flotilla of aromatic small plates laden with the same mouth-watering combinations as those on adjoining tables — chicken legs simmered in soy sauce, the above-mentioned ravioli, marinated mushrooms, crisp egg rolls and their wrappings of lettuce leaves and unfamiliar stir-fried vegetables in delectable sauces. There was also a platter of rice pancakes — a delectable street food made up of fried, turmeric-laced disks the size of dinner plates that encase fresh greens, shrimp and aromatic herbs sprinkled with the ever present nuoc mam. Han's version presented us with crisp, tacolike "crepes" hot out of the pan. We ordered two more at the suggestion of the manager.
The person who turned out this addictive specialty was Thao, the restaurant's cook, who manned a line of gas burners crowned with a row of small cast-iron skillets filled with bubbling oil. With rhythmic precision, she whipped together the rice flour, egg, and salt and pepper, poured the required amount into each oil-filled pan, capped it with a lid, and allowed each pancake to attain a golden puffiness. She used chopsticks to flip each pancake, then fold it in half and fill each one with fresh ingredients, including a diminutive quail egg.
Back at our hotel a van and our guide awaited to whisk us off to the tree-shaded village of Thuy Bieu. The first part of our "being like a farmer at Eco Garden" began with a leisurely bicycle ride among orchards of pummelos (a sweet grapefruit) and banana groves set against a green tapestry of rice paddies. Narrow lanes led us past grazing water buffalo, diminutive family groceries, typical garden houses and pagodas, and handicraft studios where we could watch artists at work on calligraphy, painting and basket-weaving.
Our visit called for a change of costume, so we donned the outfits of a communist-era Vietnamese farmer, complete with brown baggy pants, loose shirt and bamboo hat, before trying our hands at milling rice. With the hat slipping over my eyes, I tried in vain to manipulate the grindstone and sift the rice meal until our hostess took over and flipped the sieve with the dexterity of a magician.
Before long, she had us hard at work digging for sweet potatoes along the banks of the Perfume River. We savored the fruits of our labor at dinner, served in a thatched-roof hut. A cacophony of cicadas provided the musical accompaniment in the light of the setting sun. Later on we strolled along Hue's riverfront promenade, following local families heading to the colorful night market.
The next morning our mini-cruise took us along the Perfume River to the Hue EcoLodge and dropped us off for a short walk around the 17th-century Thien Mu (Celestial Lady) pagoda, the city symbol. Ten minutes later, clad in EcoLodge aprons, we stood in an al fresco kitchen and listened to the detailed instructions of our young teacher. The scent of grilling pork kababs marinated in lemongrass tickled our nostrils as we shredded green mango and tossed it with basil leaves, assembled delicate rice pancakes and stir-fried green beans fresh from the lodge's garden plots. Later we ate what we had cooked — truly "farm to chopsticks."
WHEN YOU GO
Our custom-designed itinerary was organized by Asiatica, a Hanoi-based travel company: www.asiatica.com.
Kitty Morse is a freelance travel writer and cookbook author. To read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators Syndicate website at www.creators.com.
The moated Hue Citadel is the symbol of Hue, Vietnam. Photo courtesy of Kitty Morse.
View Comments