The Quintessence of Ham

Calvin Trillin famously derided “continental” cuisine, but I would argue that, for my generation, “fusion” is the single scariest word in the entire culinary lexicon. I think there’s a very good reason that Chinese food rarely involves Cheddar cheese and Spanish reds aren’t served with sushi: the result would – how shall I put it? – taste like ass. I’m not saying that we should let geographic determinism rule our lives. How can we imagine Italian plates without tomatoes or Thais without chiles? While they managed to survive without them before globalization destroyed their native foodways after 1492, I think we can agree that outcome is tasty. Unfortunately, on most modern tables “fusion” has far less pleasant results. But who wants to read about them?

Enter the Vietnamese sandwich, or banh mi. While the vast majority of today’s “fusion” involves the application of Eastern ingredients and methods to Western cuisine – think dumping wasabe and sesame oil all over everything – few cuisines today showcase the opposite. One notable exception is of course tempura, famously transformed from something Portuguese. Vietnamese food does an even better job by reversing the cultural transfer by transforming foods appropriated from the French. The basic foundation of the banh mi is a baguette-style torpedo roll spread with mayo and topped one or more meats, often French-inflected. Lightly pickled vegetables, slivered jalapeño peppers, and fresh coriander complete the equation. While the condiments are delicious, the various meat options really make the sandwich sing. Options at Ba Le include:

• head cheese
• pâté
• ham
• sour ham
• meatballs
• barbecue pork
• pepper pork
• shredded pork
• chicken
• shrimp cake

I’m sure I’m forgetting a few others. Our friend Matt really likes the the combo – head cheese, ham, and pâté – and it’s pretty hard to disagree. Sandwiches also happen to cost a mere $2.50; moreover, if you buy five, you’ll get a sixth for free. In fact nearly everything at Ba Le is buy 5, get 1: desserts, spring rolls, heart attacks, etc. It’s tough to say no with the staff eagerly encouraging excess, assuring customers, “You can each eat two sandwiches. No problem!” The best part is washing everything down with a quart of Vietnamese coffee, served hot or cold. The basic formula is 1) strong enough that you can taste particles of suspended coffee grit; 2) loaded with sugar; 3) loaded with milk. Perhaps now is the time to mention that Vietnam’s most famous coffee is allegedly made from the turds of a civet, the animal notoriously associated with SARS.