I eat exclusively Vietnamese whenever I visit my family in Virginia. Whether it's food prepared by my grandmother, mom, one of my aunties or a restaurateur who knows my extended family, the meals are always yummy and made with love. Thanks to my sister's wedding, there was a surfeit of opportunities to nosh. Take a look at the buffet crowded with eggrolls, sweet sticky rice infused with coconut milk and dyed the lucky color red, Vietnamese jello that has been art-directed into colorful layers, skinny slices of Vietnamese bologna and other morsels. Just think that this was intended as a snack to tie people over between the first wedding ceremony at our house and the second one at the Buddhist temple. Viet folks have a peculiar relationship with food. Rather than asking how I'm doing, my mother always asks me whether I've eaten. I think the fixation with food, particularly with meat, stemmed from a long history of wars, deprivation and a famine that afflicted Vietnam during Japan's occupation of the country during World War 2.
After the second wedding ceremony, we headed to a town hall where a Chinese restaurant catered the nine-course meal. It turned out that I didn't have to be the reception's MC. That didn't mean I wasn't excused of any responsibilities. Because I was the maid of honor, I had to stay in the ao dai until the introductions were done at the beginning of dinner. As a result, I missed the first three courses of the feast. And readers should know that I probably regretted the opportunity to photograph the potstickers, eggrolls and noodles more than eating them. I eventually slipped out of my ao dai into an H & M black babydoll dress that was a total Chloe knockoff and which I cinched at the waist with the ivory sash originally used to bind the calla lily bouquets. It was a move that both MacGyver and Diana Vreeland would have appreciated. And I made it in time for the crab and asparagus soup.
This is five-spice chicken served with prawn crackers.
This is lobster in a gooey sauce with green onions.
This is Chinese broccoli sauteed with portobello mushroom caps. One of the groom's cousins didn't like the mushrooms because of the slimy texture. I thought the fungus was meaty and tasty, a nice complement to the crunchy greens.
My mother called me to escort her, my dad and the newlyweds around to the 17-odd tables for the customary greet-meet-collect the envelopes of money. I was responsible for carrying the white satin satchel in which my sister would insert the monetary gifts. How I was tempted to be the runaway maid of honor with the moolah. Fortunately, during the half hour that we went from table to table, the waiters got lazy and left the three last entrees. One of my new brother-in-law's cousins was kind enough to scoop some fried rice on my plate. I then added the braised cod and seafood stir-fry.
There was no wedding cake. Instead, guests popped cream puffs into their mouths, along with slices of ripe mango and gobs of juicy strawberries dipped in white and dark chocolate. These might seem like delightful alternatives to the wedding cake. But the work was more intensive. When I picked up my mom on Saturday afternoon at my grandmom's house where the desserts were being prepared, she told me that she had peeled only eight of the 25 mangoes. The Keebler elves would have been impressed by the industriousness that the Viets showed in dipping all those frickin' strawberries. In the end it was worth it because my sister had fun and my family was happy. If only we could have hired the Keebler elves to help with cleaning up.
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