Aromatic lemon basil
Vietnamese rice paper rolls
Ingredients
rice paper rolls
Rice paper x 10
Vermicelli or glass noodles
bunch of fresh herbs, lemon basil, vietnamese or ordinary mint, coriander, parsley, etc
assortment of any other crispy vegetables, such as capsicum, lettuce, cabbage, bean sprouts, cucumber, carrots, radishes, etc
1 block tofu
soya sauce
dressing
2 T sriracha or other mild chili sauce
2 T mirin (or substitute 1 T maple syrup for sweetness)
2 T soya sauce
2 T rice vinegar
juice of 1/2 lime, plus a little of the zest
2 cm ginger root, microplaned
1 mild red chilli, seeds removed and minced finely with a knife
small handful lemon basil
Method
First slice tofu into long slices and fry in frying pan or on griddle pan for around 10 minutes or until golden on all sides. Once golden, add a splash of soya sauce to the tofu. Allow to cool.
Place noodles in a bowl of boiling water for around 2-3 minutes or until cooked and then cool in cold water.
Meanwhile, prepare the raw vegetables by cutting finely and removing the leaves from the stems for the herbs. As pictured above, I used cucumber, capsicum, bean sprouts, lettuce, lemon basil, coriander, parsley and mint.
Prepare a rimmed plate or large bowl with hot water. Dip each rice paper sheet into the plate until it begins to soften. Remove and lay out on a board. Begin with the herbs, placing them face down on the paper. Then a little of each ingredient and one piece of tofu. The less filling there is, the easier it will be to roll.
Roll up the rice paper rolls like an envelope (see pic below), folding the top and bottom down, and then one side over, before squashing and rolling up as tightly and gently as you can. If there are any little hands around, this is a great activity for kids as well.
Stack the rice paper rolls on the plate you wish to serve them on, ideally leaving a little room between each one so they don’t stick.
Finally, mix the ingredients for the dipping sauce by hand, or in a blender if you prefer.
To serve, keep the rice paper rolls in the fridge until ready to serve. It can be nice to give everyone their own small bowl of dipping sauce. Enjoy!
The story behind the recipe…
A two-euro pot of basil in a basement Asian supermarket, lit by fluorescent lights. I touch the leaves absently to release the aroma and bring my fingers to my nose. A habit formed in childhood, smelling with my fingers first. Geranium leaves on the edge of footpaths, lavender, eucalyptus, catmint with its purple flowers, my favourite.
The smell of the basil surprises me. Nothing like sweet basil, instead, a heady fragrance of anise, lemongrass, lime. The plant has tender, matte green leaves. It smells like coconut curries. It smells like a long-ago escape to Melbourne in the height of summer, staying in an inner city hostel, eating supermarket breakfasts on the rooftop, the sun already bright and high overhead. That was the summer we were obsessed with rice paper rolls; eating every evening in Vietnamese restaurants, in street stalls, ordering rice paper rolls and veggie pho, the broth laced with mushrooms. Like Iranian food, fresh herbs are characteristic of Vietnamese cuisine. I put the pot of basil into my basket.
Vietnamese food is prolific in Paris, not surprisingly, given France’s colonial past, which has irreversibly shaped its cuisine. Baguettes became banh mi, scrambled tofu, coriander, a sharp dressing. When we were in Paris, I counted four Vietnamese restaurants within a stone’s throw from our apartment. We lunched at one, on a Covid-era terrace extending out onto the road, but they had no rice paper rolls, only deep-fried, with lettuce and mint on the side, a pot of jasmine tea.
I’ve never been to Vietnam. Instead, my idea of the cuisine has been forged from the Vietnamese diaspora, through forays into Vietnamese restaurants in Western cities in both hemispheres. There is something strange about knowing a cuisine only through its metamorphosis in another country. Questions of authenticity become obscured. Has the food been coloured somehow by its new context? An almost inevitable substitution of ingredients, an adjustment to a different climate, catering to a customer’s idea and expectations of the food, the way every Indian restaurant is expected to serve butter chicken and rogan josh.
These rice paper rolls are not pretending to be authentically Vietnamese, they are not perfectly rolled, or uniform. Maybe some of the filling is poking out one end where the wrappers ripped slightly as you were rolling and that it is okay. They are shaped by the maker, shaped by some Antipodean interpretation of rice paper rolls. Shaped by a plastic pot of aromatic lemon basil, found in a Dutch-Asian supermarket, which tries to stock Asian ingredients of all possible description, from Indian to Indonesian.
Rice paper rolls are the perfect food for summer. They keep well in the fridge, are best eaten chilled, transport well. Put the dipping sauce in a recycled jam jar. Take them to a friend’s for a cool evening looking out across the treetops, talking quietly, sipping something cold. Left in the fridge for a few hours the jelly-like wrappers tighten a little, as if the rolls have taken a breath in, holding onto their fillings. They are cool and soothing, but want to be dipped in the moreish sweet and sour sauce with a hint of chilli. Or spoon the dipping sauce into the rolls as you eat them, as we did.
Thanks for reading this week. Don’t be alarmed if there’s no newsletter next week, as we’re travelling and I’m not sure I’ll bring my laptop. But don’t worry, I will be eating plenty and hope to come back with some great ideas. Speak soon!
Amelia.
PS Our pigeons are all grown up, but recently South has been landing on the balcony to pay us visits and he seems singularly unafraid of us. I can tell it’s him because the feathers at the back are still a little fluffy and he still seems a little smaller than an adult, but I’m afraid that one day I won’t be able to distinguish him anymore.
Looks delicious, Will try to make these Rolls with the Alicia 🥳