As all my clothes, notes and collected belongings from close to a year in China lay stacked across my apartment, a single piece of looseleaf paper scribbled with recipes keeps filtering its way up to the surface.  I try to organize these entries in a mostly linear format, but if posting a quick food entry leaves me with one less paper cluttering up my apartment, why not just post it now?

Food shopping at an outdoor market

Cooking lessons in foreign countries are widely available, at least in larger, metropolitan areas, and generally don’t cost much more than the price of the meal being cooked.  I’d been meaning to take one for some time, but didn’t actually make my way to a restaurant offering the service until reaching Hanoi, Vietnam.  Most other travelers I’ve talked to seem to share a distaste for Hanoi, believing the Vietnamese in the south to be far friendlier to tourists.  I did not have this experience at all, and felt far more comfortable in the north.  The surplus of clean friendly hostels (none seem to exist in the south) helped tremendously.

One such hostel, The Drift, posted a single advertisement for morning cooking classes at a restaurant called The Green Mango.  Eight in the morning on a Sunday is a bit early for my tastes, but the description of the class sounded ideal: Shop through an old town market for ingredients, and then create a three-course meal of your choosing from about thirty different options.  Normally, all students would have to agree on the menu and split the resources while preparing the food.  As I would be the lone student today, the class is instead a private lesson, and the kitchen is mine.

My workspace

Papaya Salad

This salad, popular throughout southeast Asia, can be modified to serve as many people as necessary.  The only ratio to keep in mind is water:vinegar:sugar:chili sauce = 3:2:1:1/2.  It will seem like a lot of liquid and sugar, though once the salad is fully drenched, it should be lightly squeezed out before serving.  Aside from that, the recipe is simple: mix all ingredients and serve in a large lettuce leaf.

• green papaya(s), shredded
• carrot(s), shredded
• crushed peanuts
• crushed sesame seeds
• coriander/cilantro
• basil
• 1 lettuce leaf to serve the salad in
• 3/4 cup water
• 1/2 cup vinegar
• 1/4 cup sugar
• 1/8 cup chili sauce (to give it some bite)
• a dash or two of salt, to taste

Using chopsticks to mix together the papaya salad

Posing with the final product

Sweet and Sour Prawn

The shrimp they’ve got down here are ridiculous, with some being as large as a baby’s arm.  We opt for some amply sized fellas down at the market, and quickly get them battered up and fried.

Batter:

• 1 egg
• 1 cup flour
• 1/2 cup cold water
• salt

Get a good amount of oil hot and ready and then run each prawn through the batter before dumping it into the oil.  Flip once and then remove, once golden brown and lightly crispy.  Place on a bed of paper towels to let the oil drain off a bit.

Veggies:

• one red pepper, chopped
• one green pepper, chopped
• chopped pineapple
• chopped onion
• chopped tomato
• 2 cloves of garlic, chopped
• a handful of small, red chilis, sliced

Place garlic and chilis in a small amount of oil and lightly stir-fry.  After a minute or so, add the remainder of the vegetables.  Stir fry for three minutes or so and then add the sweet and sour sauce:

• 2 tablespoons sugar
• 1 tablespoon water
• 2 tablespoons vinegar
• 1 tablespoon ketchup
• dash of salt

That’s about enough for one serving.  Keeping that same ratio, you can make as much (or as little) sauce as you like.  Add the prawns for about thirty seconds and the meal is done.

Preparing the sweet and sour prawn under the watchful eye of.. some Vietnamese guy (I forgot his name)

Sweet and sour prawn, complete

Beef with lemongrass and chili

• Beef, sliced into bite-sized portions
• 1 stick lemongrass, thinly sliced
• a handful of red chilis, sliced
• 2 tablespoons chicken stock
• 2 tablespoons oyster sauce
• 1 tablespoon chili sauce
• one red pepper and one green pepper, sliced
• coriander
• salt and pepper, to taste

Big chunks of lemongrass aren’t easily chewable, so care should be taken to get it sliced as thinly as possible.  The red chilis should be about the same size.  Mix the chilis and half the lemongrass slices with the beef and put a dash or two of salt and pepper on it before setting off to the side.

Mix the chicken stock, oyster sauce, chili sauce and salt in a bowl and set aside.

Stir-fry the garlic and remaining lemongrass over high heat for about thirty seconds.  Add the green and red pepper.  Add the beef and fry everything for another minute or two.  Add sauce and cook for thirty more seconds, then serve.

Stir frying the beef

The final product

My Vietnamese lunch