Fish Sauce is Liquid Gold


Fish Sauce in Liquid Gold: Unraveling the True Essence of a Vietnamese Culinary Treasure

As Vietnamese Americans living in the diverse culinary haven of the San Francisco Bay Area, my peers and I have had the pleasure of exploring a multitude of cuisines and ingredients. However, there has always been one ingredient that left many of my fellow chefs cringing – Fish Sauce. "Fish Sauce stinks!" they would complain, unable to fathom the idea of using an ingredient that emitted such an abhorrent odor.

But as sons and daughters of immigrants, we understood the significance of preserving the traditions of our culture. It was heartening to witness the passion and dedication of Danny Tran, the 4th generation owner of Son Fish Sauce, as he took up the responsibility of reintroducing Fish Sauce to Westerners with authenticity and pride.

In Vietnam, fish sauce holds a profound cultural significance. It symbolizes the main resources of life for the Vietnamese people – the ocean, fish, and salt. This essence is beautifully reflected in their cuisine and culture, making fish sauce an indispensable part of Vietnamese identity.

The disapproval of certain Fish Sauce brands smelling bad was not unfounded. The misrepresentation of fish sauce in the Western world, like many foreign products, has led to a diluted and often inferior version of the original, all for the sake of profit. Throughout the years, I embarked on numerous pilgrimages to Vietnam, each one adding to my understanding of traditional fish sauce. Compounded with the privilege of being born into a family of fish sauce producers on Phu Quoc Island, I had the unique opportunity to immerse myself in the true essence of this culinary treasure. Contrary to common misconceptions, we have an understanding that traditional fish sauce emanates a deep, dark aroma reminiscent of soy sauce, far from the overpowering stench some have come to associate with it.

So, what makes commercial fish sauce smell unpleasant? The answer lies in the use of anchovy extracts. Extracts are artificial flavors that don't necessarily use the main ingredients. In the case of anchovy extract in Vietnam, it often involves old anchovies that were not fresh or market-worthy. These decaying fish are dried, and pulverized into a paste with additives, including processed wheat, resulting in an inferior product that fails to capture the true essence of traditional fish sauce.

Traditional Vietnamese Fish Sauce is made from a meticulous process of fermenting 70% fresh wild-caught anchovies and 30% sea salt for a year. Similar to olive oil, fish sauce undergoes pressing, and the first press, comparable to 'extra virgin' in the Italian olive oil tradition, produces a top-tier product. The various press levels are rated by measuring the presence of protein (degrees of nitrogen) per liter, often denoted as 40*, 33*, 25*, etc., on the bottle. In contrast, Western commercial fish sauce is rated much lower, typically scaling between 12*-14*.

Danny Tran's Son Fish Sauce stands out as a pure and top-quality product, considered the 'extra virgin' of fish sauces. Using it in recipes might require slight adjustments due to its robust umami-packed flavor. Besides cooking, Danny enjoys it as a plain dipping condiment and even uses it medicinally to keep his body warm during family fishing excursions in the ocean.

In the market, fish sauce can be categorized into three types: generic, processed, and traditional. Generic fish sauce often contains anchovy extract, mixed with water, sugar, hydrolyzed wheat protein (MSG), and other additives. The processed fish sauce uses the lowest grade of natural fish but follows the traditional fermentation process, concentrating the sauce to increase fish protein ratings. Finally, traditional fish sauce consists of anchovy and sea salt, providing a balanced and fragrant flavor without the unpleasant stink.

Danny Tran's dedication to producing traditional fish sauce has set Son Fish Sauce apart from others. The company provides various fish sauce grades, a unique offering outside Vietnam. Their product not only preserves Vietnamese heritage but also educates customers about the culture defined by authentic tradition and craftsmanship.

Danny Tran's efforts have indeed opened the eyes of many to the true beauty of Vietnam and its culinary treasure, fish sauce. As the new generation of craftsmen and women, it is our responsibility to accurately represent our cultural traditions and ingredients, ensuring that they are celebrated for their true essence rather than diluted or misrepresented for profit.

And that’s why I’ve partnered with Son Fish Sauce and Spice Tribe to import this 100% pure, artisanal, aged, and single-origin Son fish sauce. Since 1951, the Son Fish Sauce family has been producing traditional fish sauce rooted in the indigenous customs of Kien Giang, a province with international acclaim for its production of Asian fish sauce. 

Note: The addition of Fish Sauce can enhance the flavors of any dish. Its alluring umami, earthy and savory flavors are hypnotizing; this umami-packed, liquid gold is guaranteed to make you salivate

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    Last updated: August 2nd, 2023

Asian Seafood Isn't Filthy

Challenging Environmental Racism and Redefining Seafood Conservation

My name is Tu David Phu, a 37-year-old 1st-gen Vietnamese-American chef who has always been captivated by people's stories. Through the art of cooking, I have become a storyteller, using food as my medium. One of the most profound stories I fell in love with was that of my refugee mother. Her tale, deeply rooted in Vietnamese heritage, unfolded in the kitchen, revealing a life I never knew. This remarkable journey inspired me to turn her narrative and culinary wisdom into a film, earning us an Emmy nomination in 2022. This recognition echoed her marginalized voice, promoting the values of frugality and zero-waste cooking that epitomize sustainability. However, my experiences also exposed the historical and systematic barriers faced by people of color, which deeply affected my upbringing and perception of the world.

Recognizing the Problem

People of color have historically been treated as an existential danger to the Western world. Or at the very least, they are considered filthy. Identities like my mother have always combated the myth of western excellence. Or is it the myth that people of color and excellence can't coincide? In either case, this type of flawed thinking would create systematic barriers, marginalizing communities and identities, especially women. I can't help but feel the heavy sense of erasure bestowed on people like my mother. The conjunction of the two myths is simply dehumanizing.

I was raised in West Oakland, the part of town where they paved over our parks and natural spaces to build freight, freeways, industry, and port operations; exposing us to the worst kinds of pollution. Grouped with other people of color, predominantly black and brown identities, where access to basic infrastructures for nutritious food (such as grocery stores) wasn't prioritized. Instead, our neighborhoods were filled with liquor stores. The USDA calls it a "food desert." I call it a "food apartheid subjected by redlining." What is redlining? The term has come to mean racial discrimination of any kind in housing, but it comes from government maps that outlined areas where Black and Brown residents lived and were therefore deemed risky investments. The impact of redlining, a discriminatory practice that segregated marginalized communities into urban housing projects and deprived them of access to natural spaces, cannot be ignored.

The way these things transpired in me for a long time created a strong sense of self-shame. It made me feel that our food was filthy, food access was a privilege (not a right), and people of color do not belong in nature.

Recognizing My Mother's Wisdom

It wasn't until I found myself working with communities and organizations (such as Stanford Medicine, Obama Foundation, Postelsia, and Asian Seafood Improvement Collaborative) that existed in the intersection of food, culture, and science-backed data that I started to recognize my mother's habits, teachings, and lessons in the kitchen were synonymous with my favorite farmers, chefs, and environmentalists experts, all of which were NOT people of color. They were using hot topic terms like "regenerative agriculture, zero-waste, circular economy, etc." - Everything my mother has done. But I couldn't help wondering why there aren't more people like my mother in the food sustainability space. People of color rooted in wisdom; taught through oral traditions; collected from indigenous communities that happen to be generational inhabitants in natural ecosystems.

Historical Foundations of Environmental Racism

According to George Frederickson, a white Stanford professor and an influential voice on race and racism,

"The Nineteenth century was an age of emancipation, nationalism, and imperialism--all of which contributed to the growth and intensification of ideological racism in Europe and the United States."

The United States environmentalism history is tainted with racism, dating back to the 19th century. Teddy Roosevelt, a prominent figure in environmental stewardship, had racist ideologies, as did Madison Grant, who authored a book promoting white supremacy. Both Teddy Roosevelt and Adolf Hitler are on record for openly praising the book with admiration. Their ideologies influenced conservation efforts, segregating marginalized communities and concentrating natural spaces within predominantly white neighborhoods, perpetuating environmental racism.

Similarly, John Muir's contributions to environmentalism must be critically examined, as his writings contained racist views towards Native Americans and Black people.

Challenging White Savior Complex in Conservation

Environmentalism's Systematic Racism isn't limited to just unequal access to nature. But its racist teachings render deep into the academics and study of wildlife, which is then reproduced in conservation activities outside academia. As a result, opinions and studies impart (sometimes unintentional) racist and prejudiced undertones in conservation efforts domestically and abroad.

These efforts are often described as the "white savior complex." Although unintentional, preservation efforts may be well-intentioned to protect wildlife areas, but it puts a blind eye to the human rights violations (and abuses) imposed on indigenous communities dependent on them. One example is the Fortress Conservation Model, which protects national parks or wildlife reserves from human contact. This line of thinking needs to be revised and originates from colonialism, where colonial state authorities saw the need to police "savage" wildlife-encroaching peoples. Or, as Madison Grant would suggest, non-Nordic identities "cannot be aristocratic naturally. Nor do they have the ability to have aristocratic encounters with nature."

A Transformative Journey

Recently, my perspective took a transformative turn during a trip to Vietnam with members of the Asian Seafood Improvement Collaborative. There, I had the opportunity to connect with black tiger shrimp producers and witness the regenerative practices in a symbiotic ecosystem. These Vietnamese shrimp farmers demonstrated an aristocratic encounter with nature, countering racist notions that associate Asian ocean stewardship with filth and uncivilized practices. This experience opened my eyes to the biases ingrained in environmentalism and conservation.

Environmental Racism Rooted in History

"Racist rhetoric referring to Asian food as dirty [and unhealthy] since the 1850s," said Ellen Wu, a history professor at Indiana University. Asians are still seen as second class citizens and are vilified through our foods. Chinese Restaurant Syndrome - MSG being unfairly demonized as addictive and unhealthy - for the record it’s false. Soyaphobia - The fear that eating soybeans imbalances hormones and has a long-standing contribution to cancer - There has yet to be evidence supporting such claims. However, there’s overwhelming evidence that it actually does the opposite. To be clear, we are not talking about GMO soybeans. That’s a different conversation. And is extremely transparent in preconceived, racist stereotypes of Asian ocean stewardship. Unfortunately, it was extremely easy to unearth via Google search.

Business Insider - The Disgusting Truth About Fish And Shrimp From Asian Farms

Bloomberg - Asian Seafood Raised on Pig Feces Approved for U.S. Consumers

“Many of these farms are filthy aquaculture hovels in places like China, Vietnam and Bangladesh, countries which have little or no regulation as to what gnarly chemicals one can throw in with the shrimp to boost yield”-Eater

“Farmed shrimp in Thailand, China, and Vietnam…get so polluted that they often have to be continually abandoned and rebuilt elsewhere.” made the Top 12 Seafoods you Shouldn’t Eat.” -Good Housekeeping

If you peruse through these articles, there’s an attempt to illustrate a narrative that depicts Asians (just as Muir has described Native Americans and Black people) as dirty, lazy and uncivilized.

Challenging the "White Savior Complex"

The United States is far from ideal in its stance and efforts toward sustainability. There's a tone of Western excellence, especially in environmentalism, rooted in the same textbooks that taught white supremacy as an expression of the American identity. And conservation efforts often unwittingly echo this "white savior complex," which prioritizes wildlife protection without considering the human rights and livelihoods of indigenous communities dependent on those ecosystems. We must move away from monolithic solutions like red-listing regions and blacklisting seafood species. Instead, we need to adopt an intersectional environmental approach, listening to and learning from indigenous inhabitants and integrating place-based initiatives involving local organizations, community-based associations, and cooperatives. These models have demonstrated success in contributing to sustainable development and empowering indigenous economies. But that’s not enough.

Embracing Indigenous Wisdom

To address these inequalities, the United States, as a global leader in conservation, must recognize the limitations of institutionalized data that may be tainted with prejudices. We must step back from the "savior complex" and draw wisdom from indigenous communities' generational knowledge and environmental struggles. By working together, we can strategize ways to protect wildlife ecosystems while empowering the indigenous communities connected to them.

Final Thought

It is time to challenge the deep-rooted environmental racism that has shaped our conservation practices. By embracing intersectional environmentalism, we can forge meaningful and inclusive change, ensuring that our approach to seafood conservation is sustainable, equitable, and respectful of the people and ecosystems it affects. Let us learn from the wisdom of indigenous communities, fostering a future where the preservation of nature goes hand in hand with the empowerment of those who call these ecosystems home. Together, we can pave the way towards a more just and sustainable future for all.