0 Comments | Oakland Tribune, Mar 18, 2009 | by Laurel Miller
IN FRONT OF me, the row of shy, peach silk-clad women are vigorously sauteing, stirring, flipping, ladling and assembling small, tantalizing looking plates of food.
Bowls of fragrant beef broth redolent of star anise and coriander pass under my nose, while sizzling wild tiger shrimp the size of my pinkie are folded into yellow, scallion-studded crepes that look like crisp scraps of lace.
Each dish is a small work of art, the specific specialty of its preparer. The women are not professionally trained chefs, but rather housewives and entrepreneurs, of a sort. They are street food vendors who eke out a living by dishing up classic Vietnamese dishes such as pho, banh cuon, and banh xeo on the bustling sidewalks of Nha Trang, in south central Vietnam. Except that we are not on the street: We are at Ana Mandara, a stunningly beautiful luxury resort located right on the sands of Nha Trang Bay.
Ana Mandara is part of Six Senses, an incredibly progressive family of high end eco-resorts (13 of which are located in Southeast Asia and the Maldives) founded by Eva and Sonu Shivdasani. This privately owned company has a core philosophy of green building design and operations, and emphasizes the hiring of local people in order to support the economy, as well as donating revenue proceeds for community social projects, including education and health care for children.
Ana Mandara has offered its bi-weekly Street Market Dinner since 2003. To be honest, I was somewhat dubious about the concept, as I like to think of myself as a bit more of a traditionalist (OK, dirtbag backpacker), but when I heard that the dinners were actually prepared by some of the region’s top vendors as a way to introduce diners to a beloved Vietnamese culinary tradition, as well as provide economic stability to local families, I was intrigued.
In this part of Vietnam, monsoon rains and flooding mean that the women often have to take days off work. With the implementation of the Street Market Dinner program, the women — most of whom have been there since its inception — are assured steady income at least two days a week, and the results have been stunning: medical care and continuing education for their children, and an overall higher quality of life. Until it was pointed out to me, I had never stopped to consider the devastating impact the wet season could have on a family trying to survive on street food revenue.
From a guest standpoint, Ana Mandara’s mission is to introduce guests to Vietnam’s “traditional, home-style food” that they may not otherwise try on their own. The produce is purchased from local farms and is organic whenever it is available; and the seafood comes from local family fishermen. Even some of the rice paper used in dishes is produced by the families of the street market women.
Utilizing classic Vietnamese cooking methods such as charcoal- fueled grilling, roasting, steaming and pan-frying (all of which employ the use of charcoal), the women prepare the food to order in front of guests, providing the most authentic and interactive experience possible.
Vietnamese food is, by nature, a very hands-on experience, and eating is intrinsically linked to the way of life. Jeevan Thomas, executive chef at Ana Mandara, explained it to me thus: “Vietnamese cuisine is about the spirit of the food. It is very cool on the palate, not spicy from heat, despite the use of chili. It’s not about sophisticated texture. It’s about sharing, family-style, about interactive eating such as wrapping ingredients in rice sheets or lettuce leaves, using dipping sauces, about medicinal quality, about freshness. But it’s quite complex, as well, due to the balance of the key flavor profiles: Salt, sweet, heat. But the diner, not the cook, controls the seasoning and complexity of a dish.”
Before my stay at Ana Mandara, I had a couple of days on my own in Nha Trang, in which I went out and searched out street food for myself. I thoroughly enjoyed the experience, but realized that at Ana Mandara, I would be able to experience food prepared by women known for making particularly excellent renditions, and I would also be able to decode some of the mystery ingredients I was unable to otherwise identify.
It wasn’t the full-on street assault I normally crave, but it was a convenient and less frenetic way to indulge