In Dublin, two summers ago, my father found some old banh trang (Vietnamese rice paper) tucked behind mason jars of arborio and basmati in his cupboard. Rediscovering this forgotten gift from the east, and without consulting anyone in the west, he set about preparing Vietnamese goi cuon (salad rolls).
To read the rest of this article, and to access all Mekong Review content, please subscribe.
More from Mekong Review
-
A quarantine, and food, in Ho Chi Minh City
-
A criminal obsession
-
The undefinable, addictive nature of Vietnamese food
- Tags: Connla Stokes, food, Issue 5