“U” – When fermentation tells stories in the Vietnamese kitchen

In the West, fermentation wears a romantic veil, from the enigmatic cheese caves of Italy to the storied wine cellars of France and the briny olive jars of Greece. Yet across all geographies, the goal remains constant: to preserve what is best today for those who come after.

For generations, jars of ruby shrimp paste, golden pickled cabbage, and amber tamarind sauce have held pride of place on Vietnamese tables. These elements are more than seasoning; they are the backbone of a cuisine both modest and meaningful.

Where Western fermentation often seeks boldness and flourish, Vietnamese fermentation leans toward harmony. A tart note from pickles to lighten the richness of pork; the salt-sweet nuance of fish sauce deepening the clarity of a vegetable broth. What binds them all is time. A month for shrimp paste, a week for eggplants, an entire summer for tamarind sauce to mellow in clay jars. These are not simply recipes, but vessels of time, each containing a trace of sun, breeze, and care. They embody the quiet artistry of generations who transformed the everyday into enduring flavour.

What makes “U” compelling is its pairing of Vietnam and Greece, two culinary traditions separated by geography, yet united by philosophy. If Vietnamese kitchens quietly cherish their jars of fish sauce and pickles, passed down like heirlooms, then Greece too entrusts time to create its salted olives, dense yoghurts, robust wines, and creamy feta. Different accents, but the same devotion to the invisible work of yeast and time.

Although both cultures embrace fermentation, the way it unfolds in daily life differs greatly. In Vietnam, it is often a quiet practice, taking place behind closed kitchen doors, each jar of fish sauce or pickled vegetable preserving a family’s secret. In Greece, the same process dances in the sun, linked to the sea, to open-air gatherings, and to shared meals under a bright sky. This contrast doesn’t divide; rather, it reveals how different cultures find beauty in the same ancient act, offering unique perspectives shaped by climate, tradition, and rhythm of life.

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Held at Gia restaurant in Hanoi, the “U” workshop carved out a space for introspection and exchange, where chefs from Gia and Delta shared their personal approaches to preserving ingredients across time. Conversations drifted between yeast and koji, fish sauce and soy, each element treated not merely as a preservative, but as part of a wider creative process.

The workshop culminated in two evenings of Collaboration Dinners, where each team brought their interpretation of fermentation to life. A standout dish came from Team Delta: grilled shrimp, its head reimagined with carrots, the body marinated in salted Buddha’s hand, tangerine oil, and koji, a surprising yet evocative combination that echoed the pickling traditions of both Southeast Asia and the Mediterranean.

Not to be outshone, Gia presented a dessert that spoke volumes about their culinary philosophy: an apricot coffee mousse paired with plum, pistachio, and mulberry ice cream. The apricot and mulberry had been left to ferment for an entire year. When combined with the buttery richness of chestnuts, the fragrance of coffee, and the burst of ripe plum, the result was a dessert that honoured the seasons, respected each ingredient, and rewarded patience.

What “U” sought to emphasise was that fermentation is not simply a culinary method; it is a cultural gesture. It is how a chef preserves the essence of a place. It is how people communicate with nature and its cycles. And above all, it is an act of respect for time, for memory, and for origin.

In Vietnam, a jar of fish sauce or soy might bring relief through the lean season, but it also recalls childhood afternoons, the precision of a mother’s hand, or the sting of summer heat. In Greece, a pot of olives or bottle of wine holds within it the memory of laughter, of company, and of meals savoured in the shade.

From the ceramic jars lining countryside kitchens in Vietnam to the rows of brined olives along the Aegean coast, people have long used salt, yeast, and time to ferment not just food, but fragments of themselves. The “U” workshop captured this shared intuition, a moment where East and West meet through food, and where fermentation becomes a conversation about creativity, identity, and memory.

From the countryside jars of Vietnam to the sunlit coasts of Greece, people have always trusted in fermentation to preserve the best of their kitchens and themselves. The “U” workshop brought these worlds into focus, celebrating fermentation not only as preservation, but as a wellspring of creativity, personal expression, and culinary soul.

And perhaps, in your own kitchen, something is quietly being transformed by time...

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