In Saigon, I closely studied the flavors of Vietnam. I came to love the sticky rice that purposefully clumps together instead of standing apart. I came to know the perfume of anise-scented basil. I pledged, again, my devotion to the pleasant cloy of cilantro. More.
We will remember these days in Vietnam, that the world is more alike than different, that food can be the catalyst to join us around a common table, and that we are more alike than different. More.