Goi Ga (Vietnamese Chicken Salad)

 Ăn uống hài hoà 

(Eat and drink harmoniously)

Balance is important in every aspect of one's life, including what one cooks and eats. As I continue to explore the cuisines of cultures around the world, I have noticed a current that runs through the recipes and dishes of many cultures, including, by way of example, Vietnamese, Chinese, Thai, Indian and even Native American. It is balance. This balance may take many forms, such as a balance of ingredients or a balance of cooking methods. Nevertheless, it is still there. 

More recently, I found this balance in Gỏi Gá, a chicken salad that is commonly prepared in Vietnam. From what I could find, the salad originated in the north of the country. However, it is dish that is popular throughout Vietnam. Goi Ga is often served at home for family gatherings; but, people can also find the salad being served at festivals and even as street food. When one peruses the ingredient list, they will find a recipe for a light salad that incorporates chicken, fresh vegetables, fresh herbs and a dressing that features one of my favorite ingredients, fish sauce. 

Yet, there is something more fundamental about Goi Ga. It represents balance, or as the Vietnamese would describe it, "Ngũ Hành" or "ngũ vi." I have previously explored the multiple levels of balance in Vietnamese cuisine. For example, there is the balance among the five tastes: spice, sour, bitter, salty and sweet. There is also a balance in texture: crispy crunchy, chewing, soft and silky. There are even further levels of balance, such as in cooking methods. 

Balancing "Ngũ Hành" or "ngũ vi" on multiple levels can seem somewhat like a culinary game of 3-D chess. Gỏi Gá achieves that balance. The ingredient list illustrates the balance across all five tastes: peppers (spice), lime juice and vinegar (bitter), sugar (sweet), and fish sauce (sour and salty). It similarly shows a balance with respect to texture, with crispy elements (fried shallots), crunchy (peanuts), silky (olive oil), soft and chewy (chicken). 

Each bite of the Gỏi Gá brings with it a sense of harmony, and, along with that, a sense of happiness. This recipe is a call to be mindful of ingredients and how they interact. It is a mindfulness that I lack and have struggled to develop, especially given the lack of balance elsewhere in life, such as the work-life balance.  Still, If I can make this dish every once in a while, it will serve as a necessary reminder to take a moment and think more about what I prepare, eat and serve to others.

This may be the reason why I subconsciously keep coming back to dishes from Vietnam or elsewhere, such as China's Sichuan province. It is my own little nudge to find my some balance, even if it is only of the culinary kind. 

GOI GA (VIETNAMESE CHICKEN SALAD)

Recipe from Food & Wine

Serves 4

Ingredients:

• 2 tablespoons sugar
• 2 tablespoons plus 1 teaspoon fish sauce
• 1.5 tablespoons fresh lime juice, plus lime wedges for serving
• 1.5 tablespoons distilled white vinegar
• 1 tablespoon water
• 1 serrano chile with seeds, minced
• 1 small garlic clove, minced
• 1 cup vegetable oil for frying
• 2 large shallots, thinly sliced
• Kosher salt
• 4 cups green cabbage (from 1/2 small head), finely shredded
• 2 carrots, finely shredded 
• 1/2 small red onion, thinly sliced
• 1/4 cup coarsely chopped cilantro
• 1/4 cup coarsely chopped mint
• 3 cups chicken (from 1/2 chicken), shredded
• 2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
• 3 tablespoons coarsely chopped unsalted roasted peanuts

Directions:

1. Prepare the dressing. In a small bowl, combine the sugar, fish sauce, lime juice, vinegar, water, chile and garlic. Stir until the sugar is dissolved. Let the dressing stand for 5 minutes.

2. Fry the Shallots. In a small saucepan, heat the vegetable oil until shimmering. Add the shallots and cook over heat heat, stirring constantly, until golden, 3 to 4 minutes. Drain the shallots on paper towels. Reserve the oil for another use. Sprinkle the shallots with salt and let cool.

3. Finish the dish. In a large bowl, toss the cabbage, carrots, red onion, cilantro, mint and shredded chicken. Add the olive oil and the dressing and toss. Sprinkle with the peanuts and fried shallots and serve the chicken salad with lime wedges.

PEACE.

Rohingya Tomato Soup

While much of the world (including myself) focuses its attention on the Middle East, there are atrocities that continue to unfold around the world. One such atrocity marked its seventh anniversary: Myanmar's ethnic cleansing of the Rohingya in the Rakhine state.

Seven years have led to between 750,000 and 1.1 million Rohingyans being forced to flee Myanmar for neighboring Bangladesh. Most of the Rohingyans who fled to Bangladesh have found themselves in Cox Bazar, a district where there are thirty-three refugee camps that, combined, house over 930,000 Rohingyans as of July 2023. 

The camps are overcrowded, many of which exceed the guidelines established by the United Nations Human Rights Commission ("UNHCR"). For example, the UNHCR standards provide that the number of people per latrine should be 4-6 and, in emergency situations, up to 20 per latrine. Six of the refugee camps are at 30 people or more per latrine and one is as high as 54 people per latrine. The UNHCR standard also provide that the number of people per water supply should be 1 water supply for every 80 people. Nine of refugee camps exceed that standard, with one of them -- the Nayapara Refugee Camp -- having a water supply for every 1,931 people. Add in the lack of educational and employment opportunities generally in the refugee camps, and, the situation is very bad and getting worse for the Rohingyan refugees.

Rohingyan refugee camp in Cox Bazar (Source: Danish Refugee Council)

Life for Rohingyans who remain in Myanmar is also getting worse. Approximately 636,000 Rohingyans remain in Myanmar, where they are subjected to an apartheid legal system that refuses to recognize them as an ethnic minority (even though Myanmar recognizes 135 other minority ethnic groups). To make matters even worse, those Rohingyan remaining in the Rakhine State are caught between a military conflict between the Myanmar army and the Arakan Army, a nationalist military organization. The situation continues to worsen and little is seen or heard as it is drowned out by events elsewhere in the world.

To be sure, I have spent quite a bit of time in recent months focusing on Palestinian culture and cuisine. However, I have talking about the plight of the Rohingyan people for years. I have previously focused upon the Rohingyans, their culture and cuisine, along with their plight. My prior posts can be found here and here. 

Rohingyan family (Source: CORE)

I return my focus to the cuisine of the Rohingyan with this recipe for a Tomato Soup. This recipe is not just any soup. It is a window that reveals a common bond shared between the Rohingyan people and many other groups of people from Pakistan to Thailand (and beyond). That window can be found in the combination of three ingredients: ginger, garlic and turmeric. Together those three ingredients are the base of a curry. And not just any curry. They are the fundamental building blocks of the original curries that emerged from the Indus river valley more than four thousand years ago. That historical curry is the foundation of curries across the subcontinent and into southeastern Asia. 

This connection proves a basic truth: despite an organized, governmental effort by Myanmar to strip the dignity and humanity from the Rohingyan people (by refusing to recognize their ethnicity and declaring them a stateless group), the Rohingyans have a common bond with the other peoples. This bond extends to the other ethnic groups across Myanmar. This tomato soup shares similarities with other curry dishes prepared in Myanmar, such as those who live in the Shan Hills. But the bond extends far beyond the borders of Myanmar, across not only the subcontinent and southeast Asia, but across the world.

ROHINGYA TOMATO SOUP

Recipe from SBS Food

Serves 4

Ingredients:

• 2 tablespoons vegetable oil
• 1 large onion, thinly sliced
• 12 garlic cloves, finely chopped
• 40 grams ginger, grated
• 1 tablespoon ginger powder
• 1 tablespoon ground turmeric
• 2 tablespoons ground coriander
• 4 large tomatoes, roughly chopped
• 1 liter of water
• Salt, to taste

Directions:

1.    Saute the vegetables. Heat the oil in a large, heavy-based frying pan over medium heat. Add the onion, garlic and ginger and stir for 5-6 minutes until softened. Add the spices and stir until fragrant. 

2.    Add the tomatoes and water. Add the chopped tomatoes, water and season with salt. Bring to a boil, then simmer for 7-10 minutes until slightly thickened. 

3.     Finish the dish. Serve scattered with chopped green chiles and coriander (cilantro), with lime wedges and steamed rice on the side. 

PEACE.

An Internal Struggle

This is not the post that I planned. I have a relatively long line of finished posts ready to be published. I also planned out the timeline for publishing, posting on a weekly basis about my exploration of cooking and cuisine both here in the U.S. and around the world. 

This past week was no ordinary week. 

I am still struggling to process what happened. How a majority of Americans could vote for an openly racist and misogynist candidate for President. How could Americans vote for candidates affiliated with the Republican party, whose platform not only embraced racism and misogyny, but contains a Spanish Galleon's worth of planks that are truly unpopular with a majority of Americans? How could a majority of Americans vote for politicians who openly campaigned on such racism, targeting communities of color, and who publicly called for utilizing the government to inflict substantial harms on groups who have known little else than discrimination and persecution by the supposedly greatest democracy in the history of civilization?

Cooking provides an escape for me. It is a way to close the door to my daily anxieties and stress. I can immerse myself in learning about food and the people who prepare it. I often joke that this blog also serves as an outlet for my international studies degree, as I travel virtually around the world to learn more about people. I try to learn as much as I can about their history, culture, and, of course, their cuisine. 

In recent months, I have viewed my culinary journeys as following the footsteps of someone who I have revered ... Anthony Bourdain. He traveled the world in a quest to learn not only about food, but the people who prepare it. His travels took him to some very troubled places, like the Middle East (Lebanon, Gaza, and the West Bank), Haiti, and the Democratic Republic of Congo. He detailed in an open, objective way, the struggles of the people. In so doing, Anthony would ultimately show how food united people, showing how much more we have in common than what divides us.

Anthony Bourdain in Beirut, Lebanon (Source: No Reservations)

I have been "walking" in those footsteps for some time. Over the past few years, I have explored the cuisines of Armenia, Vietnam, St. Helena, Portugal, China, Mexico, Thailand, The Gambia, Argentina, India and Sri Lanka. I have also explored the cultures and cuisines of some very troubled places, like Gaza, the West Bank, Myanmar, Xinjiang, and Kashmir.  

It is the posts about those troubled places that have profoundly moved me, just as I expect it did to Anthony Bourdain as he walked the streets of Gaza or visited with home cooks in Haiti or the Congo. I learned about the struggles and suffering of people, the cause of which more often than not lied outside of their direct control. While it has been hard to write some of my posts (like those about what is happening in Gaza right now), there was always a small light off on the horizon. A beacon that, if it could guide humanity, would lead to something better: an end to conflict, an amelioration of suffering, and a restoration of human dignity. 

This past week revealed that such a beacon may, at best, be further off in the distance than I thought, or, at worst, may be nothing more than a mirage. Setting aside the untold level of masochistic pain that Americans have just unleashed upon themselves, they have also opened the floodgates to a further torrent of violence, suffering and pain around the world. 

For example, the past week's election represents an "all-clear" to the far-right wing Israeli government to continue and perhaps intensify its campaign of genocide in Gaza and ethnic cleansing in the West Bank. It waved on Israeli fighter jets to further clear the southern reaches of Lebanon of not only Hezbollah, but also of Lebanese civilians.

The past week's election will also embolden Russia in its effort to recreate what it lost back in 1991, pushing it to not only eliminate Ukraine's existence, but to further destabilize other countries, like Georgia, Armenia, Moldova, and the Baltic States. 

However, it goes beyond Ukraine and the Middle East. As Lady Liberty's torch goes dark, I look at the prospect of not just more suffering and blood in many other places around the world. Places where the strife was the result of a history that bears the marks of our past foreign policy or our current capitalist economy. (Just look up and down the Western Hemisphere.) Strife that will only get worse because the next administration lacks the empathy, knowledge, and understanding to do anything about it. 

Source: ABC News

As Lady Liberty's torch fades into darkness, I find myself struggling with whether the path that I am on is one that I should continue to explore. Why try, even in the smallest way, to promote empathy and understanding when a majority of people in your country just don't care. Why try to promote what unites us when that majority seems quite content to drown in what divides us. 

I've come too far to go back to posting what random dish that I made on a particular day. I could choose to explore the cuisines around the world, confining myself to places free of suffering and pain. I could limit myself to just cooking out of cookbooks or recipes off of the internet. But, that is not who I am or who I want to be. I can't turn a blind eye to what is going on or what will happen, which means that the road ahead is one that may be too overwhelming and unsustainable. I just don't know right now. 

While I try to resolve this internal struggle, I will continue to post what is in my queue. After that, only time will tell. Until then, I will close with my undying wish for everyone around the world ...

PEACE. 

Lahmajoun (Lahmacun/Lahmajo)

This post has been a long time coming. The spark of inspiration goes back years, perhaps more than a decade. I was sitting at home watching Anthony Bourdain eating with someone at a small restaurant in Turkey, most likely Istanbul. He and his guest were eating a flatbread that had a layer of minced lamb and vegetables. Tony identified the flatbread as "lahmacun." Ever since that day, I have wanted to make that flatbread. However, a lot of days went by. Then the years passed. I still wanted to make this recipe, but I made a lot of  other ones instead (as this blog will attest). 

Perhaps the one obstacle in my mind was making the dough. Sure, I make pasta, but I don't really do a lot of baking or working with dough. Thoughts of how long it would take to make the dough, or what would happen if I screwed up the dough, became difficult to overcome. However, I recently decided that, on some time off from work, I would take the time to make the dough. Then other obstacles got in the way. It seemed that more days, weeks and years would go by without me making this flatbread. That was, until I had a batch of thawed pizza dough in front of me. That batch served as the springboard with which I would finally make lahmacun.

Or is it lahmajoun or lahmajo? There is a serious debate in which these two words -- lahmacun and lahmajo -- are at the very heart.  The debate asks the question of where did this flatbread originate? Was it Turkey, where it is referred to as lahmacun? Or, was it Armenia, where it is referred to as lahmajoun.

As it turns out, the answer requires some explanation. The original name derives from Armenian, in which lahmajo means "meat with dough." One account traces the dish back to the city of Aleppo, Syria, where Armenian merchants settled from areas such as Aintab, Urha and Cilicia. The Armenian community in Aleppo began preparing the dish, and local cooks offered it to customers as "lahmajoun." The dish became very popular throughout Syria and Lebanon (where it is called lahm bi ajin), as well as in Turkey, where it took on the name lahmacun. 

Of course, those in Turkey disagree with the above account. The Turkish version traces the flatbread's origin to the southern Turkish cities of Urfa and Gaziantep. (It should be noted that there were significant communities of Armenians who lived in both cities until the end of the nineteenth century.)

Setting aside the dispute over its origin, I decided to make the recipe for myself. The batch of pizza dough made the preparation of this dish a lot easier for me. I could just focus on preparing the spread. I relied upon a recipe from the World Central Kitchen cookbook, which came from a Lebanese chef (which, for this reason, I will refer to it as lahmajoun). I made only one change to the filling. Instead of using a mixture of half beef and half lamb, I decided to use all lamb. There were two reasons. First, I think lamb is more traditional (although there could be some debate about that). Second, ground lamb comes in one-pound packages and I did not want to have to buy a separate package of ground beef. 

In the end, I think that this was a very good first effort at making lahmajoun. I think when I return to this recipe, I will try some of the regional variations, as well as incorporate other ingredients. Hopefully, it won't take a decade for that to happen.

LAHMAJOUN (LAHMACUN/LAHMAJO)

Recipe adapted from Jose Andres, World Central Kitchen Cookbook, page 85

Serves 4-6

Ingredients (for the topping):

• 1 batch store-bought, fresh pizza dough
• 16 ounces ground lamb
• 1 tablespoon tomato paste
• 1 tablespoon ground allspice
• 1 tablespoon kosher salt
• 1 1/2 teaspoons Armenian red pepper paste or finely chopped roasted red peppers
• 1 2/3 teaspoon sweet paprika
• 1 pound plum tomatoes diced
• 1 medium red onion, chopped
• 1 small red bell pepper, chopped
• 1/2 cup chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley
• 1 medium garlic clove

Directions:

1. Make the topping. In a medium bowl, combine the beef, lamb, tomato paste, allspice, salt, red pepper paste, and paprika. Gently mix in the diced tomatoes, onions, bell peppers, parsley and garlic until well distributed - avoid overmixing. 

2. Prepare the oven. Heat the oven to the highest temperature, preferably with a pizza stone or foil lined sheet pan inside. 

3. Prepare the flatbread. On a lightly floured surface, divide the dough into 12 pieces (to do this, cut the ball of dough in half, then half again, then divide each quarter into 3 pieces). Roll each piece into a round about 8 inches in diameter and about 1/8 inch thick. Put 3 to 4 tablespoons of filling in the center of the round and use a spoon to spread it out nearly to the edge, leaving 1/4 to 1/2 inch border all around. 

4. Bake the flatbread. Depending on the size of the stone or baking sheet, bake the lahmajoun in batches until they start to brown but the dough is still soft enough to fold over - the meat layer will be completely cooked by the time the dough is done. There are no rules for the time and temperature. The hotter the oven and stone, the shorter the baking time and the tastier the lahmajoun. In a home oven that can reach 500 degrees Fahrenheit, it should take 6 to 8 minutes. While the flatbread is baking, you can grill long pieces of eggplant over an open flame until smoky, and season with sea salt.

5. Finish the dish. Serve warm. Lahmajoun are served folded over, sometimes with a squeeze of lemon, a yogurt dip or the traditional Armenian Ayran yogurt.  

PEACE.