I’ll always think of fish mint as my culinary awakening, my introduction into the world of refined taste. Prior to trying this tangy, ivy leaf shaped herb, I had no appreciation for fresh foods or any sort of garnish. Yes, I was one of those kids that picked off every green onion on my nachos, every vegetable on my pizza, and anything that was remotely healthy for me really. But that momentous day when my mother insisted I put just one fish mint leaf in my spring roll, I had an existential epiphany. That mild, slightly lemony taste was absolutely divine. No longer was I a whiny brat that stuck her nose up at anything that resembled a fruit or vegetable. No, from that day forward, I started my evolution into the foodie I am today, determined to try new things that I might love, just like my parents always lectured. So I guess in short, I really love fish mint.
But on a more personal and serious note, while this Vietnamese herb triggered a paradigm shift for my palette, it more recently became a symbol of my pride in Vietnamese cuisine and a representation of the cultural ignorance my family and I have lived through. Not too long ago, one of my childhood friends was telling me about some new organic subscription box she discovered. (It’s important to point out that this friend is for lack of a better term the whitest person I know. You know, the exorbitantly expensive yoga pant clad betch who only shops at Whole Foods and considers herself a spiritual person because she read The Secret.) Anyway, she starts telling me about how the box included a granola bar with fish mint in it and starts droning on about its health benefits and how trendy it is becoming. I was REPULSED. The same girl who used to tell me my house “had a weird Asian smell” and didn’t dare try any authentic Vietnamese food my family has ever made is now suddenly an expert on a traditionally Vietnamese food because it’s been bastardized and rebranded into an overpriced health food?!
Unfortunately this scenario plays out far too often. Our millennial generation places far too much importance on “discovering” the exotic and the obscure that we end up appropriating others’ time honored cultures and traditions for the sake of being a trendy hipster. We may have graduated from claiming we like Chinese food because we’ve had food court Panda Express, but we are now taking the recipes and respective stories that immigrants were once ridiculed for and turning them into the latest culinary trend without due credit and quite frankly, that’s plain stealing. I’m not saying that there’s anything wrong with using ingredients and trying cuisine from different countries nor am I saying that we shouldn’t mix and match trends and styles (Asian fusion is what I’m all about!), but I am asking that we acknowledge the background and associated cultures of different foods and consume them in a way that is respectful not only to that culture but also to the essence of that food as well.
As with my beloved fish mint, it should be eaten raw to retain as much of the fresh juices as possible. In the spirit of fusing cuisines with integrity, I crafted a fish mint chimichurri to pay homage to a little Argentinian cafe I used to frequent in Hell’s Kitchen. I love how traditional chimichurri adds a refreshing kick to everything, especially salads and red meat. This recipe is no different and is notably tasty with a drier meat such as pork or chicken. I hope if you take this recipe for a spin, you share with your friends and do some research on fish mint and chimichurri; food is so much tastier with a cultural backstory. 🙂
