Four Kitchens, One in Hanoi

A few weeks ago, I journeyed to Sunset Park to meet Village Voice restaurant critic Lauren Shockey at the far-flung Vietnamese restaurant Thanh Da. I’d been introduced to Lauren through a college friend who thought we might get along, as Lauren had spent some time in Vietnam. By spent some time in Vietnam, I thought my friend meant that Lauren had passed through on the backpacking circuit.

But that was not what she meant. Lauren, in fact, had traveled to Hanoi for a residency at La Verticale, the home base of Didier Corlou, a chef who separates his own salt from nuoc mam and plays chemistry with essential oils extracted from local herbs.

I can now only marvel at how pedantic I must have sounded to a woman who’d punched the clock at one of Hanoi’s best kitchens.

Fortunately, Miss Shockey is a kind gourmand who drew no attention to my presumptuousness. She’s also a seriously talented food writer with a new book due out soon: Four Kitchens: My Life Behind the Burner in New York, Hanoi, Tel Aviv, and Paris. As the title suggests, the book documents Lauren’s experience as an apprentice at four kitchens around the world. The anecdotes Lauren related over dinner were enough to win my pre-order, but it’s her time in Hanoi that’s really got me curious.

During my stint as managing editor at AsiaLIFE HCMC, I spent a few hours in November 2008 with Didier Corlou, back when he was in residence at On the 6 in downtown Saigon. The man is a hurricane. We had barely finished shaking hands when he hauled me into his kitchen and hoisted uncorked jars of his herbal concoctions to my schnoz while rhapsodizing in a thick French accent about his passions and process. I could barely understand him, but I was rapt. I can only imagine what an extended stay in his world was like, and I’m looking forward to reading Lauren’s chronicles of life with Corlou.

(And for the record, the bun bo Hue and che ba mau at Thanh Da are well worth the long ride on the N train.)

Things I miss about NYC: Sound Fix Records

It’s tough to complain about 33 cent beer here in Ho Chi Minh City, but lately my mind’s been wandering back to $5 whiskey shot ‘n’ Pabst specials at Sound Fix Records. Sitting in plastic kindergarten chairs, drinking something that manages to taste worse than Pabst, I long for the cozy respite of Sound Fix’s performance space, with its wainscoting and walls pressed with fleur-de-lis. But most of all, I miss the free indy shows in that little vintage den. The impressive cache of song samples at www.soundfixrecords.com allows you to preview the night’s line up. And mercifully, Sound Fix is located just around the corner from the Bedford station, the first stop in Brooklyn on the L train, soothing for those from the island whose gut reaction might be, “Uuuugh…Williamsburg?”

Here in Saigon, I still stop in to sample soundfixrecords.com’s top sellers list and search for untold gems. Lately, I’ve been wading through the the synthy nu-gaze ether of M83‘s “Saturday’s = Youth” and tapping my toe to Tokyo Police Club‘s pendulum-steady pop beats on “Elephant Shell”.