Paradise of the Blind was the first Vietnamese novel published in the U.S. Written by Communist dissident Duong Thu Huong, it’s the story of a family undone by Party politics in the country’s land reform era. Years later, a young woman on a train in the Soviet Union pieces her history together, a history of personal bonds and community values dismantled by a corrupting, embittering Socialist ideal.

I read the novel in high school, and mostly what I remember is that a politically striving uncle forces the protagonist’s father to flee and her mother becomes a street vendor in a Hanoi slum. The reason this sticks with me is because it was the first time I was aware of a distinct Vietnamese cuisine. The novel is thick with food—the smells of cooking in back alleys, the wretched loneliness of a starving child, the abundant banquets of a resilient, resentful aunt. Crabs are cracked for soup, rice is roasted to become sticky rice, a woman hustles dried vermicelli and soybeans and peanuts from her struggling stand.

I grew up with Vietnamese-American kids, and their families ran our town’s Cantonese restaurants, and I think there were probably Vietnamese entrees on the menu. But they certainly weren’t on our radar—we went for chow mein, those bright sweet red ribs, and shrimp in lobster sauce. Now, I can’t imagine winter without at least a weekly bowl of pho, or summer without goi cuon (fresh spring rolls) in heavy rotation. I also love fried Vietnamese egg rolls and bun—vermicelli with greens and herbs and a little pork or shrimp—and bahn mi (remember, I’ll eat anything in a po-boy, even headcheese.) From a couple of cookbooks (Mai Pham and Andrea Nguyen) I’ve made lots of tofu with lemongrass, shrimp with ginger and cilantro, a curry or two, and (especially back in Memphis when catfish was basically free ) caramelized claypot-style fish. Oh, and ever since I got to California, I’ve been obsessed with salt-and-pepper crab. And then there’s that little iced coffee and condensed milk problem. (Expect a post, I’m using again.)

Spicy food and sultry weather are my favorite combination. Vietnamese dishes, especially southern Vietnamese, with their coconut and chili and lime, are like eating the tropics. It’s just how the sound of salsa or the smell of white ginger make you feel closer to the equator and warm coastal water. It’s true of all Southeast Asian food, all the fish sauce cuisines, but there’s something especially bracing about Vietnamese. I’m not sure why, but I think it’s partly the primacy of strong fragrant herbs. The bitter, peppery additions of mint and basil and rau ram and perilla and culantro make everything so fresh, cool, and aromatic, even when it hits 104 degrees, like it did this weekend. Familiar Vietnamese dishes are built on mild and delicate flavors—-rice and noodles, sautéed shrimp and pork—-and then you add these heady green herbs, and salty things like fish sauce and dried shrimp, heat in the form of fresh or dried chili or fiery Rooster sauce, sour tamarind and lime, and sometimes sweet elements like caramel or coconut, and those mild flavors become intoxicating.

This weekend, we got two suppers from a big batch of banh xeo, sizzling crepes filled with pork and shrimp. The thin crepe batter is made of coconut milk, rice flour, and cornstarch, with some pureed mung beans, green onion, and turmeric added for flavor. We marinated thin slices of our last Clark Summit pork chops in fish sauce and brown sugar, and sautéed them with shrimp, mushrooms, onion, garlic, and lemongrass. The batter is spread on an oiled skillet, a handful of bean sprouts and a few spoonfuls of the filling are scattered on top, and the crepe is cooked until brown and crisp. J. makes great nuoc cham, the essential dipping sauce of lime juice, fish sauce, garlic, chili, and sugar, garnished with shredded carrot. And of course, we assembled a huge platter of table salad to wrap and stuff with—lettuce and cucumbers, sliced serranos, cilantro, anise basil, and spearmint.

A feast! And then another feast! (and barbacoa in the middle—tomorrow I’ll post our Saturday goat lunch in Sac.)

rice flour-coconut milk batter

pork and shrimp, fish sauce and sugar

sauteeing mushrooms, onions, lemongrass, and garlic

lightly cooking the crepe filling

"happy sound" crepes

flipped and folded

table salad to wrap and fill

beer food, obviously

hot sour salty sweet

too good to take my apron off