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.
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.