This one was an impulse buy, purchased mostly thanks to its magnificent box, which I snapped up while trawling the aisles of a local Vietnamese supermarket. Based on the name I wasn’t expecting much, and was therefore delighted to discover the Vietnamese equivalent to halvah, a treasure trove of sweet, dusty dessert cubes, with a nice mung bean funk replacing the usually nutty twang. The exceedingly handsome package opens to reveal a tray of twelve separately packed containers (I notice that packaging within packaging seems to be a trend in Asian snacking, although I guess it is in American as well). As the box notes, this confection is a specialty of Hai Duong province, located in North Vietnam’s Red River Delta, where it’s apparently served in two distinct forms. I’m guessing this one is the dry version; the only real problem with these is actually how easily they crumble into dust, a condition that’s visible in the second picture below, which shows the little treats in its unpackaged form. The name Bánh Đậu Xanh literally translates to “mung bean cakes,” and the interplay between the beans and the rich coconut that provides the necessary fat content is pretty fantastic. Also not that hard to prepare on your own, if this recipe is to be believed.
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When I think back to meals eaten in the muggy, mysterious state of Florida, a few crystalline memories come to mind, most of them bubbling up from from the distant past: a Burger King Kids Meal with a vanilla milkshake, enjoyed with relish in the back of a rental car during a torrential downpour; a similarly arrayed, differently proportioned burger at Cosmic Ray’s Cafe in TomorrowLand, where I sat puzzled by the retro-chic conglomeration of past with future; another Burger King meal, eaten 20 years later, this one delayed by a comical series of highway misadventures, most notably my reflux-stricken father forgetting to take his pre-meal acid blockers, forcing us to drive 40 miles down 95 in search of a second Burger King, apparently the only highway restaurant capable of catering to his affliction.
Chukku Kappi - It’s hard to find fresh coffee in India, even though bean production is a booming local industry in the south. More commonly served is what’s known as Filter Coffee (discussed more below), a decoction of (theoretically) freshly ground coffee powder which has its charms, but is often surreptitiously replaced by a lesser instant version, whose non-freshness is then masked with heaps of sugar. Thankfully there are other options in the field of hot caffeinated beverages. Filter Coffee is also known as “Kappi,” a corruption of the original English word, and its cousin Chukku Kappi (“Ginger Coffee”) is a brew of coffee powder supplemented with ginger. An iced cup was handed given to me upon entering a hotel on a hot day, and as with many so many Indian beverages, provided the dual pleasure of cooling refreshment with a nice spicy kick.
Chutney - Derived from the Hindi word for “lick,” chutney in India has a function similar to salsa in Mexico, describing any flavorful suspension of mashed, crushed or pulverized vegetables or fruits, often bolstered by the addition of hot or pickled peppers. Really, it denotes any type of sauce, with the essential focus that such sauces are either used for dipping or combining with a main dish, rice-based or otherwise. They generally fall into one of two different categories - sweet or pickled - although many straddle the line between the two. I wasn’t able to identify any discernible pattern in styles during my trip, although I did notice that this thin coconut version seemed to be the most common. It's worth noting that Indian Chutney is substantially different from the British iteration, which is actually just the adaptation of Indian pickling methods onto traditional English canning, and thus generally involves the use of native produce like the damson, the apple or the onion. |
The coded language of snacks, sandwiches and seasonings, in NYC and beyond.
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