A FAMILY STORY

Ever since I was little. My parents had taken over one of the very first Vietnamese restaurants in Marseille — my paternal grandmother's, Bà nội. Then a second one, magnificent.

After school I would spend hours and hours in the kitchen watching my mother cook, roll the nems (chả giò), prep and marinate her meats. And every Saturday, the whole family gathered to prepare the big feast.

Eating well, sharing, laughing, loving. Through those moments and those little dishes, I was handed Vietnamese culture, family, sharing, my roots. Knee-high, wide-eyed and carefree, I travelled through them — their country, its history, its traditions — and all those meals.

Today, almost 30 years later, I still see her rolling her little nems with love and passion. Making her little dishes, watching us feast, savouring those small moments of joy. Now I watch her as I work by her side, in admiration of her work, her strength and above all her generosity.

Thank you Maman, for continuing to share your wonderful little dishes with us.

P.S.: Don't be mad if I borrowed a few of your recipes to share in my turn… Like mother, like daughter

— Lise D.