Challenge #2 – The Tower of Hanoi.

“… because I know you hate it”

I don’t think there is a single word on a menu that makes me cringe more than ‘stack’. When not associated with pancakes it is undeniably superfluous and reminds me of every (early 2000s) TAFE student’s default $2 vegetarian option ‘Roasted vegetable stack’. The common sense rules of menu writing should prevent unnecessary descriptions of the placement of food items, including the verbose detail of ‘on a bed of’ and ‘topped with’, but especially the dreaded ‘stack’. I hope it is becoming clear that I’m not interested knowing the structural details of my dinner, ingredients and cooking style are all that is necessary, really. Fouad knowing this about me, set me a stack challenge, “… because I know you hate it”.

Ahh, but I don’t! I despise the word, but adore the actuality, think pies and tarts, sandwiches and burgers, hell, even pizza is a ‘stack’.

But this challenge isn’t about words or menus, it’s about my next favourite thing after stacks, maths. It’s about the kind of maths I like best, problems that can be solved by writing computer programs especially when the solution can be recursive. The Tower of Hanoi is a terrifying flashback inducing maths game involving a pyramid-like stack of components.
This challenge arrived video form. I was at once in tears of laughter and totally stumped, in fact, a terrifying idea about gingerbread and this tower haunted me for days. A recursive gingerbread tower, like some kind of terrifying techno-Vietnamese Hansel and Gretel.

The Vietnamese-style little bite that I came up with may not be fairy tale delicious, but it also has none of the associated danger, unless you count the low-roof, slippery traffic congested market. Fouad proposed this series to spur me into enjoying my last months in Hanoi, and so he could see more of this city. So, today I take you to Cho Tu Lien, a recently discovered market close to my house. I didn’t know exactly where it was but as soon as I spotted a stream of pyjama clad ladies carrying small plastic bags, I went against the tide and was soon stooping, squatting and bargaining amongst persimmons, pomegranates and bananas. This is my kind of place.

Buying meat in Hanoi

Interpretative dance and (my) incomprehensible Vietnamese conveys my order to the butcher, who hacks up a hunk of very lean pork, ready for the mincer. While she is busy her stall mates start talking to me in fast paced Vietnamese. I can guess their intention, laugh with them and answer Úc (Australia) and play up to their incredulity that I’m not married, as I admire their rings. In a moment I’m 30 000vnd ($1.70AU) lighter and shaking my head at offers of chicken and insides.

I bypass an alley of mixed stalls and chance upon herb-only lady doing a brisk trade and buy several bamboo wrapped bunches, super fresh and fragrant.

The Dish
The rules state that this dish must be based on the Tower of Hanoi and contain Vietnamese flavours. Still smarting from my recent anti-banh mi revelation, I decide to jump in the deep end and use bread, pickles, herbs and pork, some of the main ingredients of the good old pork roll.

Soft but chewy white bread, an aromatic pork rissole (bringing the Australia to Hanoi, I am), lightly pickled vegetables, fresh herbs and a citrussy perilla salsa, all in one bite. The pickles were only made a few hours before and are drained well, so don’t overload with vinegar and the herbs are baby sized and mild. The rissoles should be just cooked to retain juiciness and maximise flavour, and would be incredible cooked over charcoal, bun cha style. Here is a mathematical stack, and pork banh mi, that I can get excited about.

Pickles

500ml rice vinegar
1 cup sugar
1t salt
4 carrots (or a mixture of carrots, daikon, green papaya, cucumber)

Bring the vinegar, sugar and salt to the boil. Once sugar has dissolved and liquid has boiled, remove from heat and set aside to cool.
Meanwhile Peel and thinly slice your vegetables.
Pour warm liquid over vegetables and refrigerate.
The pickles can be eaten in a few hours, but are best after a few days.

Perilla is on the far right, right?

Perilla salsa

Perilla
oil
cornichons (unnecessary, but I really love them)
garlic
lime juice
calamansi juice

Wash your perilla really well, dry it and finely slice. Mix with a really tiny smudge of crushed garlic (or a whole load if that’s what you’re into. Add a little oil and citrus juice and crush the leaves a little to release their flavour. Stir through finely diced cornichons, if using.

Pork patties
lemongrass, white part only, minced
fish sauce
sugar
garlic, minced
shallot, minced
pork mince

Mix all ingredients together, with your hands is best. Work the pork so it becomes a bit gluey. If your meat is very lean then you may need to add some oil. Form into small patties and fry in hot oil.

Banh mi, or other bread
coriander, mint, Asian basil and other herbs.

Assemble as per pictures, and eat immediately.