Pitter patter, pitter patter. Billowy clouds looming over trees. That, to me, signals a green light to doze away, droop on a couch with eyes glued to a screen or better yet, dig my nose in a book, never to see sunlight again.
But as much as I am sluggish, when the clock ticks six, my stomach feels the need to make its presence known, which reminds me, of course, to feed it.
So here I am. Belly protruding, hands and clothes smelling...not especially welcoming. Yet I am pleased!
My mother had alerted me with the blooming betel leaves in our garden, a duskier green this season, rather than the pastel of earlier spring, and nine times out of ten, this implies bo la lot (beef wrapped in betel leaves). In our household, where preferences lie for deeper, darker flavours, this Vietnamese specialty is often served with mam nem. Repeat that again. Mam nem. It's a dangerous thing to those unaccustomed. A funky, murky sauce comprised of (mainly) fermented anchovies, garlic, chilli and pineapple chunks, the flavours heavily spiked with fishy notes; your nose, you will soon realise from even a block away, will pick up its pungency.
There is no point denying it, so yes, mam nem is certainly intimidating for the uninitiated. Still, once your palate befriends the sharp savoury-sweet-spiciness of the sauce, there is no.turning.back.
But please, don't wear your best shirt.
But as much as I am sluggish, when the clock ticks six, my stomach feels the need to make its presence known, which reminds me, of course, to feed it.
So here I am. Belly protruding, hands and clothes smelling...not especially welcoming. Yet I am pleased!
My mother had alerted me with the blooming betel leaves in our garden, a duskier green this season, rather than the pastel of earlier spring, and nine times out of ten, this implies bo la lot (beef wrapped in betel leaves). In our household, where preferences lie for deeper, darker flavours, this Vietnamese specialty is often served with mam nem. Repeat that again. Mam nem. It's a dangerous thing to those unaccustomed. A funky, murky sauce comprised of (mainly) fermented anchovies, garlic, chilli and pineapple chunks, the flavours heavily spiked with fishy notes; your nose, you will soon realise from even a block away, will pick up its pungency.
There is no point denying it, so yes, mam nem is certainly intimidating for the uninitiated. Still, once your palate befriends the sharp savoury-sweet-spiciness of the sauce, there is no.turning.back.
But please, don't wear your best shirt.
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