Tu David Phu Tu David Phu

More Than Just Free Lunch: The Power of Good Food in Schools

In the land of plenty, America, a staggering 11 million children, which is about one in seven, face an uncertain food situation at home. I was once one of them. The pain of a hungry stomach, and the anxiety of not knowing when the next meal would come, was a constant companion throughout my childhood. My parents, resilient refugees, made unyielding efforts to feed my sister and me. Yet, there were frequent occasions when their best efforts were inadequate. Hence, the lunch I got at school wasn't just a meal – it represented hope, consistency, and sustenance.

I stand before you not as a nutritionist or a doctor but as a chef. My name is Tu David Phu. At 37, I wear multiple hats: an Emmy-nominated filmmaker, a 'Top Chef' alum, and a soon-to-be cookbook author. As a 1st-generation Vietnamese-American hailing from Oakland, California, I've merged education with my rich food experiences to champion the democratization of good food. The vision? Unlimited access to nutritious meals for everyone.

To give you an idea of my journey, I've ventured into San Quentin prison, introducing the inmates to the art of cooking. I've also teamed up with organizations like Farming Hope in San Francisco, preparing three-course feasts for families with limited resources. Yet, despite my diverse experiences, one fact remains unchanged: the critical role of school meals in shaping the health of our children.

A simple survey could reveal how many of us have relied on school lunches. And while many may remember chicken nuggets and pizzas, it's concerning to know that such foods, with scant nutritional value, account for over half of our caloric intake during our school years.

Our approach to school meals is not just about nutrition; it has ripple effects on public health and our environment. Childhood obesity rates have tripled since the 1970s, with nearly 20% of school-aged children being obese. The medical cost? A staggering $147 billion annually. And diabetes, a disease tied to dietary habits and which disproportionately affects minorities, takes up one-fourth of US healthcare costs, amounting to $237 billion.

Moreover, the environment pays a price too. The majority of foods on our school plates come from intensive farming practices, notorious for soil degradation, water contamination, and air pollutants. These practices threaten global food security and are a burden on our economy.

But there's hope.

Enter the 'Farm to School Movement'. Earlier this year, I joined a gathering of visionary School Food Leaders at Richard’s Ranch in Nevada City. Together, we pledged our support to 'Farm to School', committing $130 million to source food from regenerative agriculture initiatives in California. A personal visit to Willow C Wood High School in Vacaville showed me the magic of this program. With top-tier kitchen equipment and passionate chefs, students were treated to meals that were a feast both for the palate and the soul.

The benefits of the 'Farm to School' program are manifold. It diverts the annual $20 billion school meal expenditure towards sustainable food sources, ensuring environmental preservation and providing nutrient-rich food. The outcome? Enhanced food access, improved nutrition, and decreased health risks.

In Vacaville, the proof is in the pudding, or rather, the plate. There's been a 50% reduction in pizza orders, with students showing a preference for 'Farm to School' meals. It's a model that begs to be replicated across the country and, eventually, the globe. If done right and swiftly, this can also help combat climate change and protect our fragile ecosystems.

However, this mission isn't one I can shoulder alone. We need collective action.

I urge you to stand up for Universal Free Meals in your state and demand better nutritional standards in school cafeterias. Moreover, supporting nonprofits like 'Eat Real Certified' is crucial. They act as the bridge between schools and sustainable farms, ensuring that our future generations have access to meals that nourish their bodies and the planet.

In the end, it's not just about a free lunch; it's about securing a better, healthier future for all.

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Tu David Phu Tu David Phu

The Story Behind 'Oui Chef' on My Middle Finger

In a world where culinary artistry and hierarchical kitchen dynamics collide, rebellion finds its unique expression. For me, that rebellion takes the form of a simple yet powerful phrase tattooed on my middle finger: "Oui Chef," which translates to "Yes Chef" in English. This seemingly obedient phrase etched on my skin declares my resistance against the French brigade system's historical exploitation and its perpetuation of inequality within the culinary world.

A Symbol of Subversion

While the French brigade system was designed to create an efficient and structured kitchen environment, its implementation came at the cost of the marginalized and underrepresented individuals trapped in its rigid hierarchy. The system, rooted in the 19th century, segmented kitchen staff into distinct roles, from the executive chef to line cooks, with each rank adhering to a strict chain of command. This model emphasized discipline, precision, and unquestioning obedience to the commanding chef, a tradition that continues to permeate many kitchens today.

My choice to ink "Oui Chef" on my middle finger was an act of defiance against this tradition. The symbolism lies in juxtaposing this phrase against the finger most associated with rebellion and resistance. This tattoo reminds me that while I acknowledge the authority of a chef, I also assert my individuality and question the power dynamics inherent in the kitchen structure.


A Rebellion Rooted in Justice

The history of the culinary industry is intertwined with systemic oppression and exploitation. Kitchen workers, often composed of historically marginalized populations regardless of nationality or origin, have long been subjected to unfair wages, grueling working conditions, and a lack of recognition. As a response, the “Oui Chef” tattoo on my middle finger represents my advocacy for justice within the culinary world.
The act of rebellion against the French brigade system doesn't negate the importance of discipline, organization, and respect in a kitchen. Instead, it calls for reevaluating the power dynamics that have persisted for generations. This rebellion seeks to carve a space where respect for the craft, innovation, and collaboration can coexist without perpetuating exploitation.

Challenging the Norms

By choosing to ink "Oui Chef" on my middle finger, I am participating in a larger conversation about reforming the culinary industry. This act serves as a reminder that tradition should not overshadow the need for progress, empathy, and equal treatment. It highlights the importance of recognizing the value of each individual's contribution to the kitchen, regardless of their place in the hierarchy.

A systemic oppression and injustice narrative is embedded in the culinary world’s history. “Chefs have described the “extreme suffering” behind the creation of award-winning food,” quoting a study from the Guardian article titled ‘Extreme Suffering’ Central to Culture of Elite Kitchens.

This narrative persists, as historically marginalized populations continue to fill the ranks of kitchen staff across nations. In the face of this, "Oui Chef" on my middle finger morphs into a rallying cry for equity. This tattoo symbolizes my refusal to accept exploitative norms and underscores my commitment to a culinary industry that values every worker's contribution, regardless of their place in the hierarchy.

Challenging the Culinary Paradigm with "The Bear"

Hulu's groundbreaking show "The Bear" resonates deeply with this narrative of rebellion and justice. Through its vivid storytelling, the series sheds light on the complexities of culinary hierarchies and the individuals who challenge them. As we follow the journey of a determined chef aiming to transform a failing restaurant, we witness the struggle against entrenched norms, making space for creative freedom and inclusivity.

Much like the tattoo that adorns my middle finger, "The Bear" invites viewers into a world where innovation clashes with tradition. The show's narrative magnifies the importance of fostering an environment that values all culinary voices. This lens highlights the significance of challenging the established norms that stifle potential, creativity, and progress.

As my tattoo questions the foundation of obedience in the kitchen, "The Bear" demonstrates how confronting these issues can lead to a culinary renaissance. It underscores that the way forward isn't simply a rejection of authority, but a reimagining of power dynamics in the culinary world, akin to the rebellion etched onto my skin.

Embracing Change, Equality, and Creative Liberation

In a realm where history mingles with innovation, my "Oui Chef" tattoo transcends the boundaries of skin and echoes the struggle for justice. It represents a resolve to preserve the culinary craft while reshaping the structures perpetuating inequality. The tattoo and the resonance of “The Bear” magnify the significance of advocating for an inclusive, diverse, and fair culinary sphere where every chef, cook, and worker's efforts are acknowledged and valued.

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Tu David Phu Tu David Phu

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

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Tu David Phu Tu David Phu

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.

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Chef Tu David Phu

Hi!

Thanks for checking out

Cooking with Chef Tu.

I’m Tu David Phu, Top Chef Alumnus, Vietnamese-American, and SF Chronicle Rising Star Chef from Oakland. I’ve cut my culinary teeth in the kitchens of some of the nation’s top restaurants. But it was my “memory of taste” that pulled me back to my Vietnamese roots: the practices, ingredients, techniques, and flavors of Vietnamese cuisines. These recipes are my stories. And I hope it will inspire you (as much as it inspired me) to discover and eat thoughtfully.