Eating Viet Nam: Dispatches from a Blue Plastic Table

by Graham Holliday

Could she, the most famous cook of Tây Ninh, possibly of all Việt Nam, ever envisage Vietnamese food without herbs? I persisted. I wanted—needed—an answer. Cô Ba considered. “No. No way. Take away the herbs and it’s not Vietnamese food anymore. Everything that goes with this dish makes the dish. The meat is secondary. It’s all about the herbs. Vietnamese food is nothing without the herbs.” Green smoke, brimstone, floating Buddhas, swiveling swords, long white wispy beards, warm Bia Hà Nội, pumpkin seeds, and nước mắm all collided inside my brain. Cô Ba had spoken. And, I agreed. One hundred and ten percent. Vietnamese food is nothing without herbs. Yes, there are intestines, wombs, half-grown duck eggs, bear-bile-injected drinks, chicken feet, scorpions, “countryside” rats, crocodiles, sparrows, squirrels, and snakes, but shock value, freakishness, and the offcuts end of the Vietnamese culinary canon all sit squarely at the fringes; they’re not the main course in this magnificent country. At the heart of Vietnamese food are herbs, not fish sauce, not offal, not the freak show menu items. The single thing that alters, distinguishes, and sets Vietnamese apart from Thai, Cambodian, Lao, or any other Southeast Asian cuisine is the presence and abundance of herbs. Simple, beautiful, freshly cut herbs, from the swamps, hedgerows, gardens, bushes, woods, and jungles of this incredible, food-filled country.