As I’ve mentioned, the family with whom I’m living loves to feed me. The first week that I was staying with them they took me out to eat. The most amusing part of this particular meal, however, was not the food, but the drinks…or rather the toasting involved with the drinks.
When our beer arrived, Thanh proposed a toast and asked, “In America, you say ‘cheers,’ yes?” I responded in the affirmative (the Vietnamese equivalent, by the way, is Do! It is pronounced ‘yo!’ which makes me think of Reggie and her beloved Philly every time]), so we clinked our glasses, which happen to be extra clinky in Vietnam since the beer is always served with a large block of ice in the mug.
Now, at least in my experience, one only says cheers before the first drink. I suppose I should have explained this concept to Thanh because, for at least another 15 minutes, every time I picked up my mug to take a drink, Thanh promptly grabbed his mug, raised his glass and said, “cheers!” I would quickly divert my mug away from my mouth and act if I were simply drawing my beer back a bit in order raise it with extra gusto before toasting again…and again…and again. I just didn’t have the heart to correct him.
The rest of the meal was fairly uneventful as we had a curry dish with tofu, but sometimes eating can be a little more difficult, which is largely my fault due to my eating habits. As Khue said the first time we ate together, “You are a veterinarian, yes?”
It took me a couple of seconds, but then I recalled that I had previously informed her that I am, in fact, a vegetarian, hence the dining challenges.
Thanh and his family, in particular, don’t seem to get it. One night we were eating spring rolls, and Xuan put an item that was clearly in the meat family in my first (of what eventually be approximately twenty rolls placed on my plate) spring roll.
“What is it?” I asked as politely as possible.
The grandfather immediately jumped in and shouted, “Vietnamese HOT dog!!” He was so delighted with his joke that his face broke into smile and out tumbled that incredible laugh of his, so I had to laugh as well.
Another time Thanh offered me what appeared to be a small meatball. I asked what was in it. As he placed it on my plate, he told me rice and vegetables. As I sat looking at the small round object, I thought to myself, “Sir, the color of this victual is pink. Clearly, there is meat in it.” I try to be a good sport though, so I took a tiny bite.
“There’s no meat?” I inquired.
“Yes, pork. You can eat?”
Sigh.
The situation reminds me of living in France with my host family. They were also incredibly kind and generous, but here is a semi-English translation of the first conversation I had with Madame Maitrepierre concerning my eating habits:
Mme Maitrepierre: I fixed dinner tonight. We are having a Cambodian chicken dish.
Me: Madame, I am so sorry to be difficult, but I am a vegetarian. The noodles and vegetables look wonderful, though, so I will eat those.
Mme Maitrepierre: Mais non, it’s ok. It’s chicken.
Me: Oui, madame, but I am a vegetarian.
Mme Maitrepierre: Well…you can eat it. It is a very small chicken after all.
Me: Oui, madame.
I don’t want to be impolite, but it’s been so long that I’ve eaten meat that I worry about getting sick if I do eat a large portion, especially here because…well, I will spare you the details, but I have been to the meat market.
I have eaten plenty of tasty non-meat treats like fresh pineapple dipped in chili flavored salt; all sorts of sticky rice concoctions; a wide array of homemade soups; roasted, fried and steamed banana; Vietnamese pancakes.
There are also some items that are not quite meat that I am willing to try. For example, Alice and I recently went out for a snake (not steak) dinner, because, well, what other time will I have the chance to sample snake? It tastes like chicken, by the way.
I can also do frog and snails. Before becoming a vegetarian I had sampled snail, but they were quite petite. The snails here, however, are some big honking, juicy snails. It takes just about everything I’ve got to keep smiling as I chew away.
Then there are the eggs. One evening I walked in the kitchen and found the family eating dinner. They offered me what appeared to be a hard boiled egg. I wandered across the kitchen and peered over Xuan’s shoulder. “Hmm, that’s odd,” I thought to myself, “that hard boiled egg looks strange.”
That’s when it hit me. I had read that a Vietnamese delicacy is duck egg. This does not mean that when you crack the egg open, a yolk comes pouring out that just happens to be from a duck instead of a chicken. We are talking about a fully formed baby duck embryo, sometimes, as I understand it, feathers are included.
I had worried about the duck egg before arriving. I had imagined myself happily preparing some scrambled eggs when, as I crack the egg open, out tumbles a feeble duckling. Upon landing in the frying pan, it gives me a forlorn look with its big, sad eyes and emits one last feeble “quaaaack…”.
Thanh interrupted this flashback when he asked eagerly, “you try?”
I looked again at Xuan digging right into that egg with a spoon and a big smile on her face as she amicably raised it toward me.
Now, I know I’m going to get called out because on an earlier post I was all about trying new and different things. Like I said, I generally do try most things. I had to turn down the duck egg experience, though. For some reason, snake and snails I can stomach, but baby duck falls in the dog meat realm. If other people enjoy it, more power to them. I personally can’t handle it.
“That’s alright, I said, I’m not hungry. “
I did feel a little guilty about declining his offer, but I’ll have to let it go. After all, I am a veterinarian….cheers to that.
Picture 1: Learning how to make bahn chuoi, or banana cake…at least what the Vietnamese call banana cake. Really all they let me do was smash the banana with that machete-esque knife, but that was great fun.
Pictures 2 and 3: My new favorite fruit…to eat and to say…It’s called chom chom. My Vietnamese friends tell me the English word for it is rambutan. I told them I wouldn’t know as I’ve never seen nor heard of it before arriving here.
Picture 4: Vietnamese pancake. Generally there is pork and shrimp inside.
