What is your favorite Asian cuisine?

Vietnam

THERE I WAS in Vietnam, surrounded by some of the best cuisine in Asia, or the world for that matter, eating Army chow. Generally, Army mess halls are the brunt of many undeserved jokes. The most vocal critics are boys who have known little more than their mother's food. They have never had to pick up a salt or pepper shaker because mama made everything exactly the way they liked it seasoned to a perfection defined by the tastes they had developed soon after being weaned and never varying. Ketchup or salsa were the only condiments they needed to make anything acceptable to their palate. I, on the other hand, had grown up cooking. I began by doing prep for my mother after she joined the workforce when I was about age 9 or 10. By and by, I began starting cooking family meals on those days when she worked late. As a Sea Scout, I became the ship's cook and did the shopping as well as the meal preparation. 

Pho

Inasmuch as my father had avoided service during World War II and my brother never really shared with me his experiences in the National Guard, I had little to prepare me for military life other than Beetle Bailey comics. I fully expected to see “Cookie” in my mess hall in Basic Training, wearing a dirty sleeveless t-shirt and slinging mystery meat and potatoes (that I would have to peel on KP duty). Imagine my surprise when I discovered basically good food that needed just a little “adjustment” with table condiments to sate my appetite for reasonably good tasting, if not delicious meals. Surprisingly, the mess hall food in Vietnam was equally good when you could get it.

C Rations Kit (click to enlarge)

Meals in the field were, of course, another matter. C-Rations had not been manufactured since 1949, and Meals Ready to Eat (MRE) would not make an appearance until long after the war in Vietnam was a distant memory. Modern soldiers have told me that MREs are pretty good; certainly better than C-Rations. “'49 Cs” or “C-Rats” (as we called them) were a mixed bag; some edible, some barely, some almost good. Finding canned fruit in your B12 (dessert) package was always a treat. Peanut butter and cheese spread were inedible since the oil and solids had separated since the manufacture date; but, the oil could be burned to heat up the other portions of your meal. Also, every C-Ration kit included an accessory pack with a small bundle of toilet paper, chewing gum, can opener, and cigarettes. The latter had long since dried out and burned with all the ferocity of a fuse when lit allowing the smoker one brief puff before singing nose hairs. Surprisingly, Air Force personnel who could not otherwise obtain C-Rations, seemed to really like them, and we were able to trade them for almost anything the Air Force had in surplus that we desired. For example, we built a shower outside our hooch using a jet fighter wing tip tank as a reservoir; painted black it absorbed the suns rays all day providing us with a hot shower at night.

Fortunately, I never had to survive on K-Rations. These were meals in a highly concentrated form, usually mystery meat by-products, grains, and fruits, all compressed into a bar and wrapped in foil, providing lots of calories in a most unappetizing form. Members of Long Range Reconnaissance patrols carried them to survive extended periods of time while operating in hostile territory where they could not be resupplied easily. You could survive on them, but had little inclination to do so.

Unfortunately, a tour of duty in Vietnam was like a stint in rehab for the milk-drinkers among us. Like most young American men, I had been raised drinking copious amounts of milk. Our family milkman wept when I marched off to war. Every Army mess hall stateside had a refrigerated dispenser with two large boxes of milk; one whole and the other chocolate, and it made early Army life bearable. The milk we were served in Vietnam was reconstituted from either powder or condensed milk, and it was undrinkable, even to those of us who were addicted. Imagine my joy when, on R and R to Hawaii, I sat at a breakfast counter while I waited for my hotel room to be prepared, a waitress delivered a large glass of milk unbidden. When I mentioned that I had not ordered it, she replied simply, “You were going to,” and she was correct. I downed it in one drink and asked for more.

One of the unfortunate side effects of mess halls catering to our tastes was that our excrement smelled far different from that of the Vietnamese who ate more vegetables, rice, and fish. If you had a bowel movement while hiding in a listening post or sentry bunker, your location would be advertised to any Viet Cong hundreds of yards down wind regardless of how deep and how fast you buried it. Even your body odor was dictated by diet, and our scent was detectable by the enemy. Conversely, we could find them, especially at night using our noses as well.

The only relief from Army cooking came in the care packages that we received from home or the food that we bought from the Vietnamese. There were rumors of Vietnamese sabotaging food and drink, and some soldiers were afraid to touch any of it. I felt that if I bought something from a street vendor who was catering to the local clientele, and that I selected my own portion rather than allowing the vendor to pull something out of a special stash, I was safe. Thus, I came to discover Vietnamese cuisine.

Vietnamese cuisine is not loaded with the heavy sauces such as Mandarin cooking. It is not as spicy as Szechuan nor Thai dishes. They are more likely to use rice paper whereas other Asian cooks might use wonton skins or crepes. The sauces are delicate and they use fish, shell fish, and oysters, while limiting the use of pork and beef. Pho is their best national dish consisting of vegetables and very thinly sliced meat cooked in hot broth as it comes to the table. The diner is then provided with an assortment of condiments rivaling the selection of kimchi found on a Korean table. 

Towards the end of my tour of duty, our Division was joined by the Royal Thai Regiment. We built an annex to our base camp Bearcat near Long Thanh, and officers were frequently invited for a Thai meal and an evening of kick boxing for entertainment. Anyone who could eat everything placed before them was awarded a Dragon Pin that became coveted, not for the quantity one ate, but the ability to swallow molten lava with impunity. I could not end this reminiscence without mentioning the snack foods that we survived on. Necessity is truly the mother of invention, especially when it comes to developing a comfort food from whatever you find at hand. With a loaf of bread pilfered from the mess hall and a can of mayonnaise or peanut butter (yes, they came in cans painted olive drab – Army OD) we added whatever ingredients we could come up with. Peanut butter and mayonnaise – the mayonnaise lubricated the thick Army-issued peanut butter and helped it go down. Onion sandwiches – simply slices of onion and mayonnaise on bread. Don't laugh, we developed a taste for them that has stayed with me to this day. 

It's funny how many other foods I still eat though they were viewed with horror when I first enlisted. SOS (Shit on a Shingle) – creamed ground beef in a greyish white sauce served on toast for breakfast (the Navy version was made with rabbit and nowhere as good), remains one of my favorites. It is one of those foods that can transport me back to those days when I was a better man, certainly more fit and full of adventure.