Words By Te Huihui o Matariki Chi Huy Tran (he/him)
Vietnam, Tibet-China, Tāranaki Tūturu, Te iwi o Maruwharanui, Ngāti Maniapoto
“Ăn thêm đi con” is a phrase I hear from my mum at every meal—breakfast, lunch, and dinner. It means: “Have some more food, son.” Her gentle reminder reflects the deep-rooted Vietnamese tradition of sharing love through food.
My mum grew up during the postwar era after the Vietnam War ended in 1975—a time when cultural identity was often sidelined in favour of economic recovery. It might seem extreme to sacrifice cultural heritage for economic revival, but there was little choice. Vietnam experienced significant cultural losses, including the destruction of historical sites, the disappearance of traditional practices, and damage to cultural artefacts. The conflict had a profound impact on the country's cultural heritage, leading to the loss of customs, art forms, and historical records. Yet, amidst all this, our remarkable cuisine survived, becoming a beacon of our enduring culture.
Despite her Vietnamese, Chinese, and Māori heritage, my mum never had the chance to fully embrace our diverse cultures. Her life was defined by the responsibility of being a good daughter and fulfilling her father’s wish for a normal life with enough food for his eight children. My grandma passed away when my mum was only ten, leaving my grandpa to raise all his children during one of Vietnam's darkest times. This period of hardship mirrors how my mum cherishes our family meals, ensuring that the flavours and traditions of our heritage are preserved, and that I always have more than enough to eat.
Our meals were simple, yet rich in flavour and history.
Children loved Bánh mì chấm sữa, bread dipped in condensed milk—a sweet delight. Daily dishes included Rau muống xào tỏi, stir-fried garlic water spinach, and Cá kho tộ, a savoury braised fish. Boiled vegetables, grilled aquatic fare, and steaming bowls of rice with fish sauce completed our table. Nature provided abundantly, our task was combining ingredients into delights. Despite being the only university attendee in the family Mum worked tirelessly, working multiple jobs and running a small Chè business with friends, selling traditional sweet fruit soup. Her dedication and perseverance inspire, highlighting the profound ties linking family, culture, and cuisine on top of the challenges she faced.
My father was also a skilled cook during his days in the Navy, navigating the seas. His upbringing was somewhat easier than my mother's, yet they were both born in pre-war Vietnam, and he also grew up with eight siblings. Consequently, they both deeply understood the significance of every meal. Despite limited resources, each gathering around the table became a cherished occasion for him, filled with happiness. As my father matured, he honed his culinary skills, faithfully following the traditional methods of our ancestors. He expertly utilised natural ingredients, skillfully wielding the wok to create every family meal I grew up enjoying.
I was born into an era where hunger was never a concern growing up. While I enjoyed cuisines from around the world, Vietnamese food held a special place in my heart. It felt like home. From an early age, I learned to value food, never wasting a morsel, and cherishing every meal shared with family. This appreciation stemmed from understanding my parents' experiences: my mother faced scarcity in her youth, and my father navigated a turbulent era, often separated from family meals due to war and conflict.
As I grew older family gatherings became less frequent and, eventually, I moved to Aotearoa to reconnect with my Māori heritage. Meanwhile, my parents remained in Vietnam, where their Vietnamese identity, language, and cuisine remained a cornerstone of their lives.
For Vietnamese, the saying "you are what you eat" holds profound truth. Renowned for resilience, our heritage is marked by centuries of overcoming foreign domination, internal conflicts, and economic challenges. Our strong familial bonds and cultural values of diligence and adaptability have anchored our resilience, preserving our national identity through turbulent times. This enduring spirit continues to shape Vietnam's trajectory, and defines the strength of its people today. Vietnamese cuisine not only symbolises our rich history but also our cultural resilience, shaped by a civilisation spanning 5000 years, and culinary traditions dating back 2000. Despite diverse influences from colonisation, iconic dishes like Bánh chưng and Bánh giầy stay as symbols of our ancient heritage for all national celebrations.
These dishes embody cultural continuity, passed down through generations, linking us to our past and reinforcing our cultural strength.
Even after residing in Aotearoa for some time, my Vietnamese identity remains unchanged. Our cuisine represents more than just food, it encapsulates our cultural identity, traditions, and the essence of who we are. Each dish carries stories of family gatherings connecting me deeply to my roots. In a world that often emphasises assimilation, Vietnamese cuisine stands proudly as a symbol of our uniqueness.
As I enjoy dishes like phở or bánh mi, I celebrate the flavours and the rich tapestry of Vietnamese culture they represent. Being Vietnamese isn't just about birthplace. It's about an enduring national spirit that shapes who I am today. I was born Vietnamese, and I’ll die Vietnamese.
Chur