Now, ‘adjacent’ might be a clunky suffix for this recipe when ‘inspired’ is right there for the taking. As someone who isn’t Vietnamese, I intend to acknowledge the combination of flavours, familiar in nước chấm among other Vietnamese recipes—while making clear that I’m not breezily swooping in with entitlement to improve upon anything. But then, I think recipe titles should tell a brief story in and of themselves—in the case of Vietnamese-adjacent noodles with beef, chilli and mint, it’s flagging necessary attribution, that the noodles are as prominent as the beef, with a warning siren for chilli, mollified by the promise of mint’s tempering coolness. It also tells you, I guess, that I am amused by words, and like to play with them as much as I do with ingredients. Whether ‘adjacent’ catches on as a modifier or even makes sense to anyone else, we’re nonetheless never eating anything devoid of context, are we?

To the recipe: This is (despite the overthinking length of my instructions, mostly because I insist on accounting for every time you have to pause to chop a vegetable rather than assuming you’ve done it already) a dish of haste, simplicity, and exquisite flavour. Working in close harmony are the treble-y, pungent, sour-saltiness of the fish sauce, sluiced through the true sourness of the lemon and made even more fragrant and lifted by the sheer abundant freshness of the mint. The noodles, delicate and threadlike, and the beef, crumbling and rich, welcome all that flavour with open arms, and yet despite how robust this dish is, the sharpness and minty-lightness lend it a carefree air.

Although I like it as is, this recipe is not without modification potential. For example! This is not spicy and you barely feel the chillis, so long as you use those plump, leggy red ones. If you crave more of a burn, either leave the seeds in or use smaller ones. To make this go further, you could increase the noodles and reduce the beef; thinking of the latter more as a condiment or seasoning as opposed to the main event. The recipe could certainly take on more vegetables as well. Any non-meat eaters who are somehow still reading will likely already know of good vegan fish sauce; I’d suggest tempeh or chopped oyster mushrooms in place of the beef. This recipe also owes something to Samoan sapasui; you could absolutely consider heading in that direction with the ingredients you add or subtract.

Finally, if you have an unwitting instinct to throw droplets of sesame oil into everything, which I often find myself doing, you may notice its omission here. I think the dish is stronger without it: undistracted, undiluted. You let your tastebuds guide your hand towards or away from the bottle, however.

For more noodle-y recipes, I also suggest these Noodles with Smoky Gochujang Bokkeum (punchy, rambunctiously flavoured) these Coconut Chilli Tofu Noodles (soft, comforting), or this Bucatini with Chilli Oil Pumpkin Seeds (noodle-adjacent, warmly spiced).

Vietnamese-adjacent noodles with beef, chilli and mint

I’m afraid I’ve made the method for this exceptionally easy and stunningly delicious recipe look long and complicated; just stir the sauce, soak the noodles, fry the beef then throw it together. If you’re familiar with nước chấm you’ll already know how fish sauce and citrus breathe life into a dish. If you’re heat-nervous, please be assured that this is not spicy, so long as you use large chillis—all they bring is sweet, aromatic flavour. As always, before shopping for these or any ingredients, I recommend checking out the Boycott Aotearoa zines so you know which brands to avoid. Recipe by myself, though with clear touchpoints.

Sauce:

• 3 tablespoons fish sauce
• Juice of half a lemon
• About an inch of fresh ginger
• 1 teaspoon caster sugar
• 2 tablespoons water
• 20g/a handful of fresh mint leaves

Everything else:

• 100g rice vermicelli noodles
• 400g beef mince
• 2 large red chillis
• 3 garlic cloves
• Vegetables: I used red and green cabbage and a carrot, capsicums are also good
• 40g roasted peanuts

1: First, bring a kettle of water to the boil for the noodles and make the sauce as you wait. In a small bowl or teacup, mix together the 3 tablespoons fish sauce, the juice of half a lemon—use the other half too, if it’s one of those disappointingly parched ones—and the teaspoon of caster sugar. Then, peel and roughly yet finely chop the ginger into a fibrous pile of fragrant rubble, taking the same approach with the handful of mint leaves, and stir them both in along with the two tablespoons of water. Set this aside.

2: Place the 100g rice vermicelli noodles into a heatproof bowl and pour over enough boiling water to cover. Set aside while you heat up your largest frying pan and, once good and hot, brown the 500g beef mince (I sometimes add a splash of oil, sometimes I don’t). Avoid moving the beef around too much—let it catch some surface colour in the pan’s heat.  

3: As the beef is frying, slit the two chillis from head to toe and flick out the seeds, then finely dice the red flesh. Once the beef is well-browned, push it to the side of the pan and throw in the chilli in the remaining space, letting it sizzle away. Meanwhile, roughly chop the three garlic cloves and add them to the pan, along with any vegetables you might want to use—if including cabbage, try to slice it as wispily-fine as possible. The same with the carrot—but as they take me forever to chop, I’d get on them back when boiling the kettle, if using. Stir it all together and continue cooking over a high heat till the vegetables have collapsed a little. Nearly there.

4: Stir half the sauce into the pan of beef and vegetables. Drain the noodles and add them to the pan; give it a stir but don’t expect it to disperse (as you’ll see in the photos). Tip in the rest of the sauce, aiming for the noodles this time, and throw in a handful of the peanuts. At this stage, I’ll sometimes add a little more fish sauce, if it feels like it needs it. Taste to check—an extra squeeze of citrus might be the thing, instead. And, you’re done: disperse between plates, switching between tongs for the noodles and a serving spoon for the beef and vegetables, perhaps scattering over more peanuts and chopped mint if you have it.

Serves 2 with plenty of leftovers, or 4, lightly.

Notes:

• I’ve used lemon here as that’s what I the had first time I made this. It was great; generally compared to limes you’re more likely to find lemons cheaply or freely in New Zealand. However! If you have easy access to limes, you’ll clearly have a good time if you use them instead.
• To make this go further without much effort or expenditure, simply add more noodles and veges and increase the sauce somewhat, but leave the beef as is.
• If you buy one of those pre-packaged bags of coleslaw which only contains cabbage and carrot or other similarly crisp vegetables, you can throw several handfuls into this to cook without a second thought or needing to pick up the knife again.
• I’ve noted it in the blog, but crumbled tempeh or chopped oyster mushrooms would be my suggestion to replace the beef; well-browned in a splash of vegetable oil.
• Leftovers reheat well, though the noodles tend to break up a bit; it’s better warmed through in a pan rather than the microwave.

what I’ve been listening to lately:

Difficult Days by Nocturnal Projections, I was prompted (as I often am) to listen to this erstwhile Taranaki band via Martyn Pepperell’s Selected Works newsletter; it’s the kind of post-punk music that makes you feel like you’ve stood in a puddle but you’re hours from home; this particular song, however, while retaining that droning sense of energetic gloom, also has a kind of exhilarated air of potential, as if, perhaps, it’s not quite that long until you can change into dry socks. I know I rely on this imagery frequently but accurately evoking wet jeans is important!

The Bravery of Being Out of Range, by Roger Waters with P.P. Arnold, Katie Kissoon, and Susannah Melvoin whose vocals turn this song from diverting to thrilling, from the 2000 In the Flesh concert recording, which changed my life upon impact. As for the song itself, my cantankerous king was always ahead of his time! Aside from his unabashed pro-Palestine stance and agenda, I appreciate how Waters understands his own limitations, and generously shares his stage and songs with some of the more exciting working musicians of the last century before his audience. Without which, we wouldn’t have Katie Kissoon’s remarkable take on the Mother chorus, for example.

Voices Carry by ‘Til Tuesday, a clear sign that I’ve recently rewatched the film What Happened Was…, Aimee Mann’s voice is an agent of poignancy and ache and I love when verses sound like choruses, what a perfect song.

   
The Nightingale by Julee Cruise, just unspeakably beautiful, as was seeing the entirety of Twin Peaks S1 back-to-back on Saturday night at the Hollywood Cinema, you really see things and hear things so freshly when they’re that Big.

PS: Feeling hopeless is a luxury that serves no one but those perpetrating the hopelessness, despite the hopelessness being accelerated beyond comprehension daily. The people of Palestine need us now more than ever; aside from directly sending money when you see personal videos pop up as you scroll instagram, you can support:

• ReliefAid’s Gaza Appeal, who are connected with teams on the ground in Gaza.
• Convoys of Good, another registered NZ charity distributing aid.
• Please visit Chuffed—they’re one of the few spaces providing families in Palestine with official crowd-funding platforms, as well as for other urgent causes.
• As I’ve already mentioned, you can also demonstrate your control and power through the absence of your dollars. Boycott Zine Aotearoa has helpfully put together two comprehensive free zines so you can quickly see who to studiously avoid when buying food, drinks, household items and beauty products.
• You can also check out the Pro-Palestine Business Aotearoa account by the same people for a very solid list of places to actively focus your consumer attention on.