Viet World Kitchen

Jackfruit, Toddy Palm, Pomegranate and Coconut Sweet Soup (Che Thai)

Over the years, several people have inquired about how to make che Thai, a crazy looking sweet soup comprised of various kinds of tropical fruits, tapioca noodles, jellies, and coconut milk. I always half-heartedly sourced recipes for them because frankly, the time I tried that stuff out at a Viet Tet Festival, it was just awful. 

A tall plastic glass filled with lots of ice, a few bits of jackfruit and tons of half-and-half. I didn't get what all the fuss was about. Plus, I don't do well with dairy, if you know what I mean. The experience of standing in the damp, wintry cold at the county fairgrounds trying to enjoy what everyone else seemed to relish, all the while with my stomach going bezerk was no way to celebrate the new year. It also kept me away from che Thai for years. Whenever I stared into the cold case at a Viet deli at the seemingly vast array of che (pronounced "cheh") sweet snack options, my eyes glossed over the little plastic cups containing che Thai. 

This last Tuesday, I went to lunch at a hole-in-the-wall Vietnamese food court at the Lion Plaza (corner of Tully and King) in San Jose, California. After a bowl of rice soup with duck and cabbage salad, I wandered over to the Dakao stall where the woman was dishing up a bunch of different kinds of che to a line of customers. (Dakao is well known for its preparations of these sweet snacks that  beloved by Vietnamese people.)

I don't know what overcame me, maybe it was being around my people in the food court, or all the psychedelic colors at che vendor's stall -- bright green tapioca strands, chopped up fruits, bananas suspended in a tapioca coconut milk broth, white sticky rice dumplings in amber sugar syrup.  I found myself ordering chè Thái.

"Do you want che like Thai tra tea or the sweet snack che?" the vendor asked.

"I want the che the sweet snack," I replied, remembering that in the often ludicrous world known as the Vietnamese language, chè can mean tea (which also goes by tra) and a sweet snack.

The woman quickly went to work buzzing around the cafeteria/ice cream parlor-like set up. From her various bins and half pans, she gathered the ingredients for che Thai. It looked like a parfait in a large plastic cup. A spoon of ruby red tapioca bits went in first, followed by a few longish green strands of tapioca noodles, pieces of yellow jackfruit, and chunks translucent white toddy palm seed. Then she disappeared into the back kitchen and emerged with some lychees and one half sapote in the cup. (Note that all of the tropical fruits came from cans. )

Back at her counter, she added a small ladle of simple syrup and a few spoonfuls of coconut milk. A mound of shaved ice crowned the cup. To finish the packaging, she stuck a huge round straw down the middle along with a plastic spoon so I could choose to scoop or suck up the concoction, and then she capped the cup with domed plastic like, like a Starbucks Frappucino. The cost was $3.50, which is a good thing because it signals that it's a high-class version.

I went outside into the heat and tried it out. Not bad, I thought. It was crazy/cheery looking, full of chewy, soft, crunchy textures and enveloped by the slight richness of the coconut milk. I admit it. It was much better than the nightmare I tasted years earlier. Lacking tons of dairy, my stomach didn't react either. How nice.

So what's with the half-and-half and milk that I'd seen at the delis and Tet festival and in the online chè Thái recipes? My guess is that Vietnamese people were thinking that somehow, this Thai-style sweet soup was take on Thai ice tea or coffee in which dairy is mixed in. This is the confusion between che and tra! Someone probably started out using the half-and-half  and found that it was cost effective and produced an okay snack that customers bought up. From there, many others followed suit. Vietnamese people often act like lemmings when it comes to food trends.

I went home and researched in my cookbook library. As it turns out, che Thai is a Vietnamese riff on a popular Thai sweet snack called tap tim krop that features pomegranate juice, water chestnuts, tapioca, and coconut milk. In David Thompson's Thai Food, there's a recipe for tap tim krop that's translated as Rubies. The diced fresh water chestnuts are coated with a pomegranate red layer of tapioca and then poached to resemble jewels, which are eventually floated in a sea of coconut milk and ice. The tasty Viet bastardization comes into play a bit in pastry chef Pichet Ong's version in The Sweet Spot, which he calls Thai Jewels and Fruits on Crushed Coconut Ice. Ong has the jackfruit, toddy palm  and keeps the water chestnuts and red coloring. He adds fresh payapa cubes.

Che Thai is a new and recent entrant into the Vietnamese repertoire, and given it's popularity, it's high time I put together a recipe for it. Here you go!

Jackfruit, Toddy Palm Seed, Pomegranate and Coconut Sweet Soup (Chè Thái)

Like the Dakao vendor, you can put whatever kind of tropical fruits into the mix. Typically, there's jackfruit, toddy palm seed (comes from the palm that yields palm sugar), and longans. If you don't have them, that's okay. If you can find a can that combines jackfruit and toddy palm seed, that's extremely convenient. Otherwise, you can always buy cans of each and omit the grass jelly.

As a nod to the Thai original, I use fresh pomegranate seeds, which were poorly imitated by the bland red tapioca used by the vendor. (It's pomegranate season now and my neighbor has a tree!) If you don't have pomegranate, consider diced strawberries for a red, jewel- like touch. Or, see the instructions below on how to make Thai Rubies.

The use of grass jelly adds an interesting tea-like quality. It's not part of the Thai original, but once you stir things up, the dark jelly's brown-black liquid colors the concoction like tea. Perhaps that's why some Viet cooks add it to underscore the Thai tea concept. I like the slightly bitter-grassy note, which makes chè Thái seem extra refreshing and energizing. Asian jellies come in a variety of colors (yellow, white, green, ebony) so choose your favorite.

You need some chewy fun so that's the reason for the tapioca noodles. Normally I make my own but since this chè is nothing more than opening a bunch of cans, I opted for the commercially produced tapioca, which are zig-zag shaped. They're sold in plastic bags for under a $1 and are usually near the dried beans at Asian markets.

The flavors of this sweet soup is rather nuanced so I suggest not adding ice. Eating it straight is a more intense experience. If you like things nice and cold, just thoroughly chill the fruits and jelly.

Serves 6

2/3 cup dried tapioca strands/shreds
1 can toddy palm seed and jackfruit in syrup, undrained
1 can longan in syrup, drained
1 can grass jelly, any flavor
1/2 cup fresh pomegranate seeds (1 small pomegranate) or Thai Rubies (see below)
1 1/4 cups Coconut Dessert Sauce (see below)
Crushed or shaved ice, optional

1. Put the tapioca strands in a bowl and cover with water. Set aside to soak for 30 minutes.

2. Drain and put the strands in a small saucepan and add enough water to cover by 1 1/2 inches. Bring to a boil and cook the strands until they are soft to the bite, about 25 minutes. They will look jewel-like clear in about 10 minutes but will still be chewy. Drain the strands and transfer them to a bowl of water to stop their cooking and to keep them from sticking together. Keep at room temperature for up to 4 hours or refrigerate for longer keeping.

3. Empty the jackfruit and toddy palm, along with their canning syrup, into a bowl or plastic container. Inspect the fruit and cut up any unusually large pieces into bite-size pieces.

4. Cut each longan in half lengthwise and add it to the other fruits.

5. Invert and shake the can of grass jelly to remove the jelly. (It may remind you of cranberry jelly for the holidays.) Slice the grass jelly into 1/2-inch-thick rounds. Then cut each round into 1/2-inch  cubes. Transfer the cut jelly to a bowl or plastic container.

6. For each serving, put some cut grass jelly at the bottom of a glass or bowl. Add some of the fruit and then some of the tapioca strands. Drizzle on some coconut dessert sauce. If you'd like, top with crushed or shaved ice.

Coconut Dessert Sauce

1 cup coconut milk, canned or freshly made
2 pinches of salt
1 tablespoon sugar
3 tablespoons water
1 /2 teaspoons cornstarch dissolved in 2 teaspoons water
1/4 teaspoon pandan or vanilla extract (optional)

1. In a small saucepan, whisk together the coconut milk, salt, sugar, and water. Place over medium heat and bring to a near simmer, lowering the heat if the coconut milk spews or pops. Give the cornstarch mixture a good stir and add it to the sauce, mixing well. Cook, stirring, for about 30 seconds, or until the sauce thickens, then remove from the heat. Stir in the extract.

2. Let the sauce cool, uncovered, to concentrate the flavors before serving. It will keep in a tightly capped container in the refrigerator for up to 3 days. Makes about 1 1/4 cups.

Thai Rubies

I've not tried this out myself, but if I wanted to make the Thai rubies, I'd combine Thompson and Ong's approaches and do this. According to Tuty on 10/29/07, you can substitute jicama for the fresh water chestnuts, which can be hard to find.

1/2 cup peeled fresh water chestnuts, cut into 1/4-inch dice
1/2 cup pomegranate juice or grenadine
1 cup tapioca starch

Soak the water chestnuts with the pomegranate juice overnight. Drain and discard the juice.

Bring a large saucepan of water to a boil. Combine the the water chestnuts and tapioca starch in a bowl and toss to coat. Transfer to a mesh strainer and shake/tap to remove excess tapioca starch and prevent clumping.

Add the coated water chestnuts to the boiling water and cook, stirring constantly, until they float to the top and are clear, about 5 minutes. Drain, transfer to a bowl of ice water and allow to cool completely. Drain before using or refrigerate until ready to use.

Related Information:

What is Chè?

If you've ever bought a sandwich from a Vietnamese deli, you've encountered displays of che sweet soups atop counters and inside cold cases. They're the most commonly eaten Vietnamese sweet that's enjoyed as a snack or part of a dessert spread.

Viet cooks simmered beans, fruits, seeds, rice, or vegetables with sugar to create che that are thick and creamy like a pudding, light and delicate like a consommé, or cool and layered with other ingredients like a parfait. Some sweet soups are eaten alone, while others are paired with xôi (sticky rice dishes).

In Vietnam and in Viet communities abroad there are people who specialize in chè. An itinerant street vendor may make a living from one or two types. A che parlor offers a broad range. Visiting one is like going to an ice cream parlor. Put in an order and the person behind the counter assembles it right before your eyes, ladling bits of this and that from a vast assortment of little containers. (The photo above is of a che vendor at the Vancouver night market.)

But you needn't go out for it. Tons of home cooks whip up che. They're relatively simple to make and don't require fancy equipment or expensive ingredients, generally take little time, and keep for days.

Restaurant Raid in Chicago

We all know that fresh is best when shopping at Asian markets and patronizing Asian delis and restaurants. We poke, paw and sniff the wares to ensure that they've been recently made. If they're warm and soft, we know they're good. But health departments suspect that such practices aren't hygienic.

Last year, in California, the health and safety of leaving banh chung sticky rice cakes and banh trung thu moon cakes and banh tet (special sweets for the Mid-Autumn festival) out at room temp because the focal point of a legislative debate. The governor passed a law allowing such heritage foods to slide by.

RST, an avid Chowhounder, just alerted me to the fact that one of his favorite Vietnamese restaurants in Chicago was just  raided by the health department. Here's RST's blow-by-blow account:

I saw the most upsetting thing today!  Went to Dong Ky for a late lunch-this is the restaurant closest to my house and my go-to for a quick meal.  Food usually comes out freakily fast; today, I was engrossed in a book and didn't realize that almost 20 min had passed since I gave my order.  Looking up, I saw that several tables were also patiently waiting.  Waiters and the owners were calm but obviously stressed out over something.  Soon a lady in hairnet and a white lab coat and a ream of papers walked out and I realized that the place was being inspected.  The inspector was upset about something and was scolding one of the ladies who own the place.  Shortly afterwards, the inspector's supervisor (or that's what I assume he is) walked in to mediate the problem.  Apparently the inspector had confiscated all the rice cakes, all the buns, sweets etc sitting on the counter on account of their being sitting at room temp (!!!) and while she was inside inspecting the kitchen, the staff had quietly packed them off in plastic bags to be hidden in a neighboring store and this infuriated the inspector.  Those bags were promptly brought back as both sides quietly tried to resolve the problem.  Still, all those rice cakes, sweetmeats etc had to be destroyed, thrown into garbage bags right there and then to the horror of all the Vietnamese in the house.  These are cakes and buns that have millennially been served at room temp and sold just like this in markets all over Vietnam.  They are also displayed the same way in virtually all of the other shops all throughout Argyle Street!!!!  I don't know what perverted strain of zealousness (or cluelessness) made this inspector insist on poking her thermometer into every bun and insisting that they should either be refrigerated or kept in a warmer!!!  Among the goodies thrown out (before my eyes) were banana cakes, leavened rice cakes, stuff that could have sat out for days without harm.  Meatball stuffed buns were also all thrown out-if they do this here-they would also have to throw out all of Chiu Quon's buns for staying out (granted, inside bakery cases) at room temp.  Also thrown out were com ruou, fermented rice balls sitting in a pool of the sweet wine exuded in its making-how could the woman have known that the thing is fermented already and have no chance of going bad under normal circumstances. 

Curiously for all the chowhounding I do (i.e. the time I spend in restaurants), this is actually the first time I have actually seen an inspector in action.  If such a thing could happen here, I wonder how many times over this misdirected zealousness has been applied throughout the city at eateries of widely diff ethnicities!!!  It is this kind of blindered over-regulation (that we hear about, anecdotally, here and there, now and again, from small restaurateurs) that leads to the impoverishing of our food horizon!

In California, a Vietnamese-American state legislator took the opportunity to spearhead the public/legal debate.  Here are links to pertinent info on AB 2214:

• Asemblyman Van Tran: Press release on AB 2214
• Official info from the governor's office: AB 2214 Fact Sheet

Hope this information helps those of you in the Chicago/Illinois area. Good luck!

Unusual Viet Restaurants

I mostly root for home cooks but every once in a while, you want someone else to do the cooking, serving and cleaning. Today I learned about several spots that would get me out the door and on a plane:

Restaurant Mẹ - "Mom's Restaurant" is a moderately priced Vietnamese-New Orleans-Spanish restaurant in Barcelona, Spain. The chef/co-owner is Vietnamese American who used to live in New Orleans. The other owner is American. Now they're both in Barcelona, which is like Los Angeles -- open to new ideas and adventure. It's located in the L'Eixample area at Carrer de Paris, 162, Barcelona, 8036.  (New York Times review || Chow.com posting)

Hai Nam Restaurant - It's not all you can eat but rather all you can eat AND all you can pay. The restaurant specializes in Hainan chicken and rice (a specialty from Hainan island in the South China Seas that's historically been contested property between China and Vietnam). You get a ton of food but only pay for what you eat. This approach to dining is called ăn nhiều tính nhiều, which literally means "eat much, pay much." Leftovers are passed on to another table. Maybe not so hygienic but certainly efficient for the kitchen staff. Hai Nam Restaurant is located in Phan Rang, a coastal town located about 50 miles south of Nha Trang. 

Cuốn - The name means "roll" and it's a smallish place in Saigon (Ho Chi Minh City) devoted to rice rolls. My friend Daniel came across Cuốn in May when he was last in the Motherland. He says it's a smart local venture, not something that an overseas Viet Kieu introduced.  Anyone aside from Daniel been there?

Bún- Is another monosyllabic restaurant in Saigon next to Quán Ăn Ngon on Nam Ky Khoi Nghia Street near the Reunification Palace. They specialize in Viet dishes featuring thin, round rice noodles called what else but bún. It's a lovely building and a nice alternative to the popular Ngon down the way. Ironically, last week  chef/restaurateur Michael Bao Huynh opened a restaurant called Bún in New York City. Maybe soon someone will open a Cuốn place too! It's a two way street, from abroad back to Vietnam and vice versa.

Cantonese-Vietnamese Food

I often talk about the Chinese influences on Vietnamese cooking, but what about the other way around? Joel, who lives in Hong Kong, made me think about that. 

When I lived in Hong Kong in the early 1990s, Vietnamese cooking was virtually non-existent, save the poor refugees living in the camps at the time. An international port city and hub for business and trade, Hong Kong has always been open to new ideas. From the tiniest joint to the oldest dim sum house to Pizza Hut and high tea, Hong Kong offers tons to eat. In the past 15 years, Vietnamese has been added to the menu.

Vietnamese Cookbooks in Chinese

Joel gave the following low-down on a few Vietnamese cookbooks written by Chinese authors:

The first book is Enjoy Vietnamese Cooking by Wilson Kwok ( ISBN 962-14-2580-8 ) published by Wan Li Publishings in October 2003.  My impression is that it is much better than the HK cookbooks published in the 1980s and early 1990s.  Kwok did studies on cookery in the West in the 1980s and 90s and returned to Hong Kong to start the Entrecote French steakhouse.  His interests on Vietnamese cooking stemmed from his contact with Vietnamese immigrants when living in the West, and he cooked part time in some Vietnamese restaurants.  For a time he also ran the Paris 13th Vietnamese restaurants in Hong Kong.  The book's primary language in the anecdotes, cultural backgrounds, and history sections is Chinese but the recipes are also available in English.  In addition, all recipes all contain Vietnamese names as well as names in English and Chinese.

The recipes listed are a summary of Vietnamese restaurants available in Hong Kong, documenting the early-days 1970s Vietnamese Chinese restaurant dishes, 1980s Cantonese-ized Vietnamese dishes, and 1990s French-style nouvelle Vietnamese cooking.  The favourites which you listed like pho bo, banh cuon, cha gio are there.  The red beancurd fried chicken is rendered in Vietnamese as ga quay simply, and it is listed as steaming the marinaded chicken for 15 minutes, add honey, dark soy sauce, and vinegar mix to the skin, hang for 4+ hours until dry, and then fry using the method I mentioned.  They also have recipes like ca hap (steamed fish), thit de chien (fried goat), bo xao hat tieu den (beef with black peppercorns), tom xa (jumbo prawns with lemongrass), ga xe phay (chicken salad) yen nuoc dua (dried bird's nest in coconut milk) which are all popular dishes in HK's Vietnamese restaurants.

The second book is  Street Food in Vietnam by Michelle Lo ( ISBN 962-14-3325-1 ) published by Wan Li Publishings in January 2007.  Lo is Vietnamese Chinese who immigrated to Hong Kong at the late 1960s, and then to France.  She returned to Hong Kong in 1996 and is now a teacher at the Towngas Cooking Center in Hong Kong.  The whole book is bilingual and contains streetfood of Vietnam divided to Hanoi (North), Hue (Central), and Saigon (South) with almost every common Vietnamese street food you can think of is in the book (pho bo, banh mi ra-ku-bo, even the less commonly publicized recipes like banh beo, bun-bo-lao and banh-gio) alongside some actual photos of Vietnam's street food scene and intetesting notes of cooking in the three main regions. 

[Update on 11/1/07: You can find Chinese-Vietnamese cookbooks at a well stocked Chinese bookstore. I just returned from New York, where I picked up Michelle Lo's book on street food (pictured here).]

There are many connections between Chinese and Vietnamese cooking, which is why if you're in a Chinese market, you can get most of the ingredients for preparing Vietnamese food. Of course, the same goes for being in Viet market. They're often run by business-minded Chinese-Vietnamese!

 

My friend Terrence Khuu, a professional Vietnamese-American chef,  says that Viet Huong/Three Crab fish sauce is processed in Hong Kong. Lee Kum Kee and Koon Chun, both leading manufacturers of Asian condiments, turns out tons of hoisin and shrimp sauce for Vietnamese cooking. So we're buying lots of Chinese-made ingredients for Vietnamese fare. But the opposite is happening too!

Vietnamese restaurants in Hong Kong

• Geoexpat.com reviews of 6 restaurants
• Eat Drink Hong Kong listing

Vietnamese Aphrodisiacs

Vietnamese people are an entrepreneurial lot. Simon Bao pointed me to this article from Thanh Nien Daily, a party-sponsored publication in Vietnam. Who needs chemically produced Viagra if there are  oysters, seahorses, turtles and goat kidneys to help you in times of need.

Rock the Cradle of Love contains rough instructions/recipes too.  Now I've got Billy Idol's voice in my head. Wonder if the 1990 music video inspired the Thanh Nien writer. . .

My how times have changed and not.

Homemade Chili Garlic Sauce

Weeks ago we started a conversation about how to make Vietnamese chili garlic sauce without preservatives. Josh Levine began the whole thing by asking me if Huy Fong made a preservative-free version of their ubiquitous Rooster-brand sauces. Lili and Chuck ended up sharing their family recipes.

I mostly eat raw, unadulterated sliced chiles, so while I have those prepared condiments around, I use them only once in a while for certain applications, like when I mix up a little dip for corn and coconut fritters. Many people think the Rooster sauces are great but I find them a tad vinegary, too hot, and often overpowering. But something happened recently that changed my mind.

Two weeks ago I dined at a Vietnamese restaurant in San Jose, CA, and instead of chili garlic sauce on the table, there was a small container of fresh pureed chiles. I was delighted at the prospect of having actual fresh zip for my food since most times when I ask for fresh ot hiem (hot Southeast Asian type chiles), the response is: "Sorry, all we have are green jalapenos." Those don't do much for me and yep, I'm sorry too.

We threw a dollop of the pureed chiles  into our dipping sauce but were woefully disappointed. It lacked punch. No heat. Just red color. Bland.

That lackluster experience inspired me to experiment with Lili and Chuck's recipes. I headed to the farmer's market and found an abundance of red hot peppers. Now is the season to grab the last of the harvest before the pepper plants die off for the year. I remembered from an article I read long  ago that Huy Fong used red jalapenos so of course, I went through the pile to collect a bunch of red ones with cracks -- signs of maturity and heat. The market also offered smooth serranos and Portuguese hots which despite the farmer's assurance, were actually Italian sweets as I suspected; I sauteed the Italians in peanut oil and ate them with rice. In my home fridge were a few lingering red Fresnos so I threw them in too. Chuck's recipe called for habaneros but he said you could any variety you liked. Lili didn't specify any particular kind but noted that her aunt used whatever she grew in the yard.

From a pound of chiles, I came up with two bright, fresh, hot condiments that had a pleasant taste but didn't burn or take out all your taste buds. They're simple to make and the difference is that Lili's (on the right below) is cooked after being pureed while Chuck's stays raw. Hers is a tad sweeter, lighter in color and thicker than his. (If you've sampled Cholimex in Vietnam, hers is a superior version of that high-class sauce made in the Motherland.) On the other hand, Chuck's has a marvelous funky heady, almost floral quality. I took the two homemade chili garlic sauces to a Vietnamese Slow Food event that I did last Sunday and people ate the jars clean. I like them both.

Here they are for you to try. Let me know your thoughts . . .

Lili’s Cooked Chili Garlic Sauce

6 ounces hot chiles (e.g., cayenne, Fresnos, habanero, jalapeno, long, serrano, Thai, or a combination of them), stemmed and chopped
4 cloves garlic, chopped
½ teaspoon salt
1 1/2 tablespoons sugar
1 1/2 tablespoons distilled white vinegar

Put all the ingredients in an electric mini-chopper or food processor. Process to a coarse texture. Take a whiff and it should make you sweat a bit. Taste and adjust the flavor with add extra salt or sugar. Transfer to a small saucepan, bring to a vigorous simmer over medium heat, lower the heat to gently simmer for about 5 minutes, or until it no longer smells raw. Remove from the heat and set aside to cool. Transfer to a jar and store in the refrigerator. Makes a scant 2/3 cup.

 
Chuck’s Raw Chili Garlic Sauce

6 ounces hot chiles (e.g., cayenne, Fresnos, habanero, jalapeno, long, serrano, Thai, or a combination of them), stemmed and chopped
3 cloves garlic, chopped
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 1/2 teaspoons sugar
1 1/2 tablespoons distilled white vinegar

Put all the ingredients in an electric mini chopper or food processor. Process to a coarse texture. Take a whiff and it should make you sweat a bit. Taste and adjust the flavor with add extra salt or sugar. Transfer to a small jar and refrigerate. Let stand at least 30 minutes before using to allow the flavors to blend. Makes about 2/3 cup.

Note: Chuck says that if your concoction is too hot, add some bell pepper to tone it down. You can also mitigate the heat with sugar, salt and/or vinegar.

Hung Wins Top Chef

Okay folks, 29-year-old brother Hung won last night's final Top Chef competition! Rocco DiSpirito was his sous chef. There was a pork belly melt down by one of the other contestants. Hung admits that getting told by the judges that his food had no soul hurt him -- like getting hit by a truck.  Maybe that was a good thing.

He stepped things up and came through with this menu:

1) Prawns, Palm Sugar Coconut Glaze, Cucumber Radish Salad and Ocean Scented Rice
2) Hamachi, Potato Chips, Tomato Vinaigrette & Olive Oil Powder
3) Duck with Truffle Scented Broth & Mushroom Ragout
4) Chocolate Cake with Raspberry and Nougoutine Tuile

For more:

• Top Chef site on Bravo TV
• Baltimore Sun's blow-by-blow write up
• Nguoi Viet coverage (in Vietnamese)
• E! News quick round-up
• What is national identity blog posting on Hung and race/ethnicity

Caramel Sauce

If you're going to delve deeply into cooking Vietnamese food, get over your fear of heat and make some caramel sauce! It's not as difficult as you may think. Just get some sugar, water and a saucepan. Once you've mastered it, it will quickly become your stealth ingredient. All you're doing is nearly burning sugar.

Caramel sauce (nuoc mau, pronounced "nook mao") is one of the cornerstones of Vietnamese cooking. It's primarily used in kho dishes to simmer savory foods such as whole fish, pork, shrimp, chicken, eggs and tofu -- homey foods that are the soul of Vietnamese cooking. The color and flavor of caramel sauce are transformative, making food not only look beautifully amber but also delectable! For an in-depth discussion of how to use nuoc mau in kho dishes, read "The Taste of Tet" posted on the Vietworldkitchen.com site; recipes are included.

The term nuoc mau was originally coined in South Vietnam. People in North Vietnam called the same ingredient nuoc hang ("nook hahng"), literally translated as 'merchandising water', probably because it was so often used by food hawkers to enhance the appearance of their wares. Think of how molasses add to the flavor of barbecued foods.

The traditional method of making this sauce requires you to add boiling water to the caramelized sugar, which starts a dramatic reaction that's not for the faint of heart. The point of doing this is to arrest the cooking process so that the sugar doesn't burn to a bitter black stage. I find it easier to place the pan bottom into a sink filled with water and then adding the remaining water to dilute the sugar. The result of both approaches is the same bittersweet inky sauce that's a staple in every Vietnamese kitchen.

Use caramel sauce for Viet kho dishes, or as a little cheat in your marinades for foods that will go on the grill so that they color nicely. Don't put it on ice cream or other desserts. Its sweet, dark coffee flavor will taste yucky bad. Finally, select a light-colored saucepan to monitor the caramelization, and make sure it's clean.

Resist buying the heinous tasting pre-fab caramel sauce at the Vietnamese market that's labeled "coconut thin sauce".  You're better off doing it yourself! The photos below are for encouragement.

Makes 1 cup.

1 cup sugar
¼ cup plus ½ cup water

Fill the sink with enough water to come halfway up the side of a 1-quart, heavy-bottomed saucepan. Place the sugar and 1/4 cup of the water into the saucepan and cook over medium-low heat. Stir until the sugar dissolves, about 2 to 3 minutes.

As the sugar melts, the mixture will go from opaque to clear. Small bubbles will form at the edge and gradually grow larger, moving toward the center of the pan. Eventually, bubbles will cover the entire surface. After about 15 minutes, the sugar will begin to caramelize and turn in color. You'll see a progression from cham pagne yellow to light tea to dark tea.

When smoke starts rising, remove the saucepan from the heat and slowly swirl it around. Watch the sugar closely as it will turn darker by the second; a reddish cast will set in (think the color of a big and bold red wine) as the bubbles become a lovely burnt orange. Pay attention to the color of the caramel underneath the bubbles. When the caramel color is that of black coffee or molasses, place the pan in the sink to stop the cooking process. The hot pan bottom will sizzle upon contact and the bubble action will subside.

Add the remaining 1/2 cup of water (there may be a small dramatic reaction) and place t he saucepan back on the stove over medium heat, stirring until the caramel has dissolved into the water. The result will be slightly viscous; flavor-wise, it will be bittersweet. Pour the caramel sauce into a small glass jar and let it cool; it will thicken further. Store indefinitely in your kitchen cupboard.


Recipe from Into the Vietnamese Kitchen: Treasured Foodways, Modern Flavors (Ten Speed Press, 2006).