Vietnam consists of three geographic regions: the fertile Red River Delta in the north; the relatively barren highlands in the middle; and the lush Mekong Delta to the south. The kitchen can be divided along the same lines. “The north used to be very poor, they cook saltier there, so that they can give more white rice flavor with less meat. The food is hotter in the mountainous center and sweeter in the south, with more fresh herbs,” says Yentran Banh – good friend, daughter of two Vietnamese who emigrated to Limburg in 1980, and sorceress with two chopsticks and a wok of hot oil – the perfect companion for this occasion.
Pho – the national noodle soup with beef broth – is the dish that unites all of Vietnam: you can get it anywhere, any time of the day. Pho (pronounced ‘feu?’ – the sound should go up at the end, as if you were asking a question) originated in the north sometime in the early 20th century. Initially as a breakfast dish for farm workers. More than a million North Vietnamese fleeing the new communist regime took their soup with them to the south after 1954, where they started adding chilis and sweet sauces such as hoisin, large mountains of fresh herbs such as Thai basil and bean sprouts. don’t let the northerners hear it).
Essentially, pho is a rich meat-bone broth, with the main seasonings roasted – the cinnamon and star anise are dry-roasted, the ginger and onions (with skin!) preferably blackened over an open flame. That gives that sultry, smoky touch that colors so beautifully with the sweetness of the onions and bone marrow. On that point, the pho at Little V scores well. The star anise and cinnamon dominate slightly, making it a bit speculaish, but the soup is meaty and sweet, the toasty flavor is clearly present, and a little fruity from the hoisin and lime. The thin flat rice noodles are smooth slippery and beautiful snappy.
Many herbs are used in Vietnamese cuisine, such as polygonum or paddy herb. But they are difficult to get outside the region (Yentrans mother grew them in her own garden at Venlo). So mint and coriander are served almost everywhere in most Vietnamese restaurants in the Netherlands. If you don’t master those finesses down to the last detail, then – especially in combination with the most commonly used base sauce (nuoc mam cham with fish sauce, garlic, pepper, sugar and lemon) – everything soon tastes a bit the same. Little V does not deviate from the norm in this regard.
Betel leaf
Nevertheless, we eat some very decent starters. The fish cakes are fresh, fragrant and squishy as we are used to from the Thai, but in a crispy jacket. The papaya salad is a bit thick cut, sweet with a nice subtle kick. The Vietnamese ravioli of thin slippery rice paper are filled with a tender mix of mushrooms and pork, hidden under a mountain of fresh herbs. The structure in the dish comes from the strips of Vietnamese luncheon meat, which is authentically compact and springy. The dish should be mainly sweet, so let me tell you. It feels a bit like sneaking a snack.
The coolest dish is the stuffed betel leaf. That large, dark green leaf has a surprisingly layered taste, savory like spinach, but also fleshy, with a beautiful floral perfume. The minced meat in the dolma-like rolls is a bit boring. But that is also how it should be, says Yentran. The seasoning is right in that leaf around it.
But the main courses are, unfortunately, all disappointing. The “specialty”, the banh xeo, is a rather tasteless, flipped, thin, loose coconut milk pancake into which a bag of stir-fry vegetables has been released, with some pork and shrimp. It is not a whole, and that is exactly what makes a good bánh xèo so tasty: that the crepe is really crispy on one side, while the filling on the inside has slightly sunk into the dough during baking.
The pork belly on the bun (a traditional one pan dish with rice noodles and spring rolls) is not crunchy, it doesn’t taste roasted, but almost cooked. It’s hard to put your finger on it, but the whole thing is rather Chin.Ind.Spec.Rest. On. The cari ga (chicken in coconut curry) remotely resembles the Thai massaman, but then a rather clumsy, extremely salty, floury variant. There is a lot of chicken in it for 13.50 euros.
For vegetarians it’s a bit of a scrape: there are three vegetable dishes, a vegetarian one-pot dish and two spring rolls; the chicken salad can also be done without chicken, etc. … And it is a pity that there are no Vietnamese desserts on the menu. Because Vietnam is one of the few countries in Asia where they do have a culture of tasty desserts, according to the expert.
Little V is big, it’s busy and quite cozy. With small tables separated by gazebos and hanging plants, and sightlines marked by red lanterns. This way you get the feeling that you are in a clammy tropical alley, where the fresh vegetables are sold from woven baskets along the side of the street. You can go there for a beer, a sweet cocktail or a refreshing, dressed mocktail, such as the jasmine tea with ginger and lemongrass – you can skip the wine. The food comes quickly to the table. So if you’re looking for a smooth and light round of starters or a decent pho, Little V is the place to be. But you have to know exactly what you order, otherwise you will soon end up with many large bowls of the same spices and sweet sauce.