Chilled Delights from Three Culinary Corners

Craving a cool twist? Chilled delights from Asia await your tastebuds!

Who’d guess savory dishes could cool you down like a dessert? Buckle up, flavor explorers: noodles are diving into the deep end of the chill zone! Let’s savor the frosty chilled delights of Korea, China, and Vietnam. Spoon at the ready? Here we go!

Korean Naengmyeon: The Icy Hero of Chilled Delights

Korea’s naengmyeon is a chilled champion, poised to win your heart. Foodies and culture vultures, listen up: this bowl of cool magic will sweep you away faster than a summer breeze.

Picture a Korean BBQ feast: grill hissing like a dragon, teasing your senses with sizzling ribs and pork belly. You’re a hot mess, teetering on the edge of meltdown. Enter naengmyeon, your cool savior, swooping in to save the day. Hot and cold don’t bicker – they blend, weaving a flavor tapestry that’s pure bliss. A star at rowdy parties or quiet family dinners, this dish is Korea’s top chilled delight.

Naengmyeon rocks two classic looks: one swimming in broth, the other coyly sipping it on the side.

Mul naengmyeon: Buckwheat noodles dive into a chilled beef or kimchi broth, rubbing elbows with crisp cucumber and half of a soft-boiled egg, gentle as a sigh. From Pyongyang, some locals sprinkle in sugar for a sly twist, but Jeolla’s southern crew votes chili paste to keep the fire alive. Chewy strands, crunchy bites, tender beef, and a broth cool as a cucumber. Pure gold! 

Born as winter’s darling, mul naengmyeon leaned on fresh buckwheat, peak kimchi, and river ice to chill the mix. Koreans swore cold bites balanced winter’s warmth. After the Korean War, Pyongyang folks fled south, toting their recipe. Fridges stepped in, turning mul naengmyeon into a summer gem, with southern neighbors jumping on board, hooked on this chilled delight.

Bibim naengmyeon: Born in Hamhung, North Korea, this fiery rebel tosses chilled noodles with a tongue-tingling gochujang sauce, tamed by cucumber and pear. A sidekick broth, either hot or cold, stands by to cool your jets. Spicy enough to wake the dead, maybe thanks to raw fish slices from yesteryear. Dust it with toasted sesame seeds, and it’s the cream of the crop.

War’s dust settled, and both types of naengmyeon crept into every corner of South Korea, from street stalls to fancy joints, even convenience store coolers. Now it rules Sambok, the lunar calendar’s three hottest days, jazzed up with apples or pine nuts. Diehards stick to the old ways, muttering “Beef’s the ticket” like a pho purist pooh-poohing chicken. Naengmyeon is the chilled delight shining bright in Korea’s culinary scene.

Chinese Liangpi: The Ancient Skin Noodle

Liangpi, China’s chilled skin noodles, brag about a 2,000-year saga from Emperor Qin Shi Huang’s time. Tale goes, a Shaanxi drought left farmers rice-shy and tax-broke. Clever Li Shier ground rice, steamed it into thin sheets, and sliced it up. Qin tasted it, fell head over heels, and swapped taxes for noodles. Liangpi has been Shaanxi’s darling ever since, a chilled delight to crow about.

Making it is a quest for glory. Knead flour, rinse it to a pulp and repeat until a starchy treasure settles. Spread it thin, steam it silky, cool it off, and slice into wide, slick strips, smooth as a charmer’s grin. The sauce hums, garlic, star anise, and pepper waltz with vinegar’s zing, sugar’s gentle nudge, sesame oil’s glow, and soy sauce’s salty charm. Toss in cucumber and steamed gluten bits. Bold souls splash chili oil for a jolt. Mix it, bite in: jackpot! Shaanxi hearts beat for liangpi, a street and home hug rolled into one.

Vietnamese Bún Mắm Nêm: Huế’s Cool, Funky Contender

Vietnam’s chill champ? Huế’s bún mắm nêm wins my vote, shining bright among central Vietnam’s stars, with Huế stealing the show.

Served cold, it peaks as dusk paints Huế gold. Stalls buzz from noon to night, and Mrs. Bê’s spot on Phan Đăng Lưu draws a flock. She works inside, her pole-loaded goodies a nod to days roaming quiet lanes. Forty years fly by, and she’s still crooning, serving bowls with a twinkle.

Dainty noodles nest in a tidy bowl, a real Huế’s subtle grace. Thin pork head, curly ear strips, chewy Vietnamese skin ham, bold Vietnamese ham, and zesty tré shine. Swap in grilled pork or roasted beef for a lark. Mrs. Bê’s mắm nêm (fermented whole fish sauce) – rich, brown and velvety – gleams with chili oil and whispers fried garlic to stir your soul.

Huế’s Phi Tân nails it: “Cool herbs – cilantro, mint, banana blossom, split spinach, carrot, green papaya, sprouts – meet the snap of ear or Vietnamese skin ham. Chili bites, garlic sings, and mắm nêm’s bold funk delivers a wallop, leaving spice hounds sweating, teary, and hooked, for round two of this chilled delight.” (Back to Huế for a meal, Lao Động Publishing House 2021, p. 16) Phi Tân winks: “Nibble this and zip it – no yakking! Ladies finish, lips rosy, like they’ve borrowed the sunset’s glow.” (ibid., p. 16)

Its origin is a mystery, maybe born when noodles met mắm nêm’s funky charm. One fine day, they clicked as a flawless pair. Mắm nêm, soul of the dish, charms cold and never hot. Noodles, meat, and veggies tag along, cool as you please.

Naengmyeon, liangpi, and bún mắm nêm look meek, but they’re sly foxes, dazzling quietly amid loud rivals. Warmth is not the only trick; a cool, spicy, salty nip at the right tick lifts your taste buds to cloud nine. Here’s to these chilled delights: Cheers!

mlefood – Minh Lê