Cover Even those with a passion for cooking, yet without a career in the culinary world, will likely have heard the name Phan Ton Tinh Hai.
Even those with a passion for cooking, yet without a career in the culinary world, will likely have heard the name Phan Ton Tinh Hai.
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Phan Ton Tinh Hai is a celebrated figure in the culinary world devoted to preserving and elevating the essence of Vietnamese cuisine.
Phan Ton Tinh Hai has always believed that “cuisine is the final destination.” When she first found herself saying these words in casual conversation years ago, she realised with conviction that she was suddenly certain of her career path. For her, Vietnamese cuisine had never been just a profession, but a means to preserve culture, history, and identity. Sitting with her now, it’s clear that this belief still holds. But when asked if she has arrived at the destination she once imagined, she pauses before answering: “The traditional values and identity of Vietnamese cuisine—that is what remains unchanged.”
Rather than talking about change, she focuses on continuity. Vietnamese cuisine, she says, can evolve without losing its essence. Recipes may adapt, and influences will come and go, but the foundations remain. For her, that balance between tradition and innovation is what keeps the cuisine alive.
The teacher shaping generations
Above Phan Ton Tinh Hai
Phan Ton Tinh Hai
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Beyond your role as a Vietnamese Culinary Artist, you are also the Principal of the Viet Culinary Art School (VCA). When you founded the school, what did you hope to bring that was distinct from traditional culinary training models? Is this your way of continuing the journey of preserving and sharing the “intact soul” of Vietnamese cuisine?
Every culinary training model is a vessel on its own journey—yet for me, VCA is not merely a place to teach how to navigate that voyage. I wanted to build a lighthouse—a beacon that not only shares technical expertise but also illuminates the deeper understanding of cuisine itself. Standardising methods, refining recipes, and introducing a systematic approach enables students to master skills while also appreciating the essence of each dish. What sets VCA apart is not only the curriculum but the way we stand alongside our students, fuelling their passion and transforming it into the foundation for a lasting career.
To me, a dish is a canvas, telling a story of culture, history, and the unique imprint of its creator. VCA offers students a space to explore and develop their own style, enabling them to embrace individuality in the most organic way—much like a river flowing through time, always constant in its course yet carrying the distinct flavours of each era.
You see cooking not only as the refinement of technique but as a means of storytelling—a narrative of culture, history, and national identity. How do you guide your students to cook not only with skill but with a deeper understanding of the true value of Vietnamese cuisine?
For me, a great chef is not only adept in technique but deeply connected to the origins of each dish. That is why, at Tinh Hai, beyond honing culinary skills, I encourage my students to read, study, and immerse themselves in Vietnam’s cultural heritage. When they understand the roots of regional cuisine, they can recreate dishes with authenticity and precision.
I also stress the importance of professional integrity—respecting and cherishing traditional values. In the world of culinary business, adapting dishes to suit customer preferences is inevitable. Yet, no matter how a dish evolves, preserving the soul of Vietnamese cuisine is paramount. That essence is found not only in flavour but in staying true to the dish’s original spirit—and in being true to oneself.
A good chef is more than a skilled cook—they must understand the origins of every dish they create.
Have you ever had a student who didn’t stand out at first but, with the right training, went on to become an exceptional chef?
Talent is an advantage—something everyone hopes for—but it is far from the only deciding factor. Sometimes, determination, perseverance, and a willingness to learn prove far more powerful than natural ability. Over my 35 years in the profession, I have witnessed many inspiring stories, but one in particular has stayed with me.
Over time, she made remarkable progress. Not only did she overcome those early challenges, but she went on to become the Production Director of one of my companies and worked as a sous chef in leading hotel restaurants. Her journey is proof that success in the culinary world does not discriminate on starting point. There are many good chefs, but to become an excellent chef is not easy at all. Even the women in the family are great chefs in their own way. The important thing is to never rest on your laurels, always keep the passion burning and never stop learning. Because even I, every day, am still learning new things from the profession I love.
What lessons are you continuing to learn?
I consider myself fortunate to have grown alongside the industry. A decade ago, few people spoke about Research and Development (R&D) in the culinary field, but I invested early in learning and innovation. As a result, I was able to create Tinh Hai brand products that meet international standards. My pickled shallots, for instance, contain no additives yet can be stored in the refrigerator for a year. That didn’t happen by chance. It was the result of hundreds of trials, adjustments, and setbacks.
In food production, R&D is essential. It allows us to refine traditional recipes while ensuring they meet modern industry requirements. One of my proudest achievements has been securing a licence to teach Vietnamese cuisine in the US, alongside official approval for the Tinh Hai brand to manufacture food there. This is more than a business milestone—it is proof that Vietnamese cuisine has the potential to reach a global audience, as long as we remain committed to innovation.
Of course, none of this has been achieved alone. I am fortunate to have a partner in life who is also a strategic collaborator, someone with both vision and resources. Our team in the US operates at an international level, but the talent in Vietnam is just as vital. In today’s interconnected world, Vietnamese cuisine is no longer confined to local kitchens—it has become part of the global culinary landscape. With the right balance of tradition and technology, heritage and forward-thinking, I believe we will continue to take Vietnamese cuisine to new heights.
Spreading the Essence of Vietnamese Cuisine
Above Phan Ton Tinh Hai
Phan Ton Tinh Hai
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You once said that sauce is the soul of your dishes, and I believe it is also one of the defining elements of Vietnamese cuisine. But as someone who has spent years researching spices, what sets apart a good sauce from one that becomes a true culinary heritage?
For a sauce to be considered heritage, it must first have a clear identity.
A good sauce enhances a dish, but a heritage sauce carries the story, spirit, and cultural essence of its origins. Take, for example, a sauce that embodies the character of Hue. Its uniqueness lies not only in the way spices are balanced but also in the meticulous preparation—every step infused with meaning, reflecting the way Hue people cherish each meal as a ritual. A sauce transcends borders when it evokes memories, stirs emotions, and preserves a time-honored craft passed down through generations beyond stimulating the palate. That is the difference between a flavorful ingredient and a cultural legacy.
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When we talk about Vietnamese cuisine, we inevitably mention lemongrass, chili, and garlic—staples in kitchens from North to South. But beyond these ingredients, it is the craftsmanship that defines each region’s distinct character. I take great pride not only in the quality of our spices but also in the artisans who produce them. They work by hand, with patience and precision, in ways that machines can never fully replicate. A culinary tradition cannot become a heritage without the human touch—without the skill of those who cultivate the land, preserve time-honored techniques, and breathe life into every dish.
Would you agree that craftsmanship is one of the unique elements that sets Vietnamese cuisine apart—something other cultures do not possess in the same way or must learn from?
Absolutely. The most defining aspect of Vietnamese cuisine is its artisanal quality. No matter how advanced technology becomes, no matter how much automation enters the kitchen, some things remain irreplaceable—the deft hands wrapping each cake, the precision of knife skills honed over years, the cooking techniques that no machine can truly replicate. There are family recipes passed down for generations, infused with tradition and love. Vietnamese cuisine does more than nourish the body; it carries warmth, connects people, and holds stories that cannot be distilled into a formula. That is what makes it distinct, enduring, and irreplaceable.
As you travel and share the story of Vietnamese cuisine, have you noticed a difference between how we see our food and how the world perceives it?
Yes, and it is always a fascinating realization. In Vietnam, food is an inseparable part of daily life—so familiar that we rarely step back to see its full significance. But outside of Vietnam, our cuisine transforms into something more—a rich cultural narrative, an exciting discovery for those encountering it for the first time.
When introducing pho abroad, for example, I do not simply explain what it is. Instead, I draw connections to flavors and techniques they already know. If they are familiar with ham, I introduce them to our char siu or Vietnamese steamed pork roll. If they enjoy pâté, I explain how the Vietnamese version carries its own unique character. If they love clear soups, I introduce them to tím, our delicate slow-cooking method that extracts the essence of ingredients. This approach makes Vietnamese cuisine feel less foreign and more like a natural extension of their own culinary traditions.
But what moves me most when I travel is the response of the Vietnamese diaspora. For those who have lived far from home, food is more than sustenance—it is a bridge to their roots, a source of nostalgia. When they taste a dish that is truly authentic, some are brought to tears. In that moment, I am reminded that cuisine is not just about flavor; it is about memory, identity, and the invisible thread that connects generations—past, present, and future.
The most special element of Vietnamese cuisine is its craftsmanship.
You achieved the title of Vietnamese Culinary Artist at a remarkably young age. Today, many young chefs are making their mark internationally, earning prestigious awards at a similar stage in their careers. With their impressive achievements, how do you feel about this new generation, and what can they learn from your own experiences?
I am immensely proud of young Vietnamese chefs because they remind me of myself 20 years ago—only now, they have more opportunities and better conditions to thrive. In my time, earning recognition as a culinary artist required overcoming countless obstacles. I vividly remember those days when, despite my youthful appearance, I would neatly tie my hair in an attempt to look older—just to be taken seriously and gain respect.
Today, young chefs have the advantage of combining academic knowledge, scientific research, and creative fusion between tradition and modernity. There is a saying I truly believe in: “If you dedicate three years to mastering something, you can achieve what others take ten years to learn.” Vietnamese cuisine is no longer just well-known—it has gained academic depth, becoming a source of inspiration and study for culinary professionals worldwide.
However, what is the biggest challenge for today's young generation of chefs? I always tell my students: “You can learn fast, integrate quickly, and achieve success early—but never lose yourself.” We are living in an era where everything can be swept up in the whirlwind of media and fame. Success may come quickly, but if it is not built on a strong foundation, it can just as easily disappear. This is why humility and respect must always come first.
In Vietnam, there are master chefs who remain behind the scenes, quietly dedicating their lives to their craft. They do not readily share their secrets with just anyone—only those who truly earn it through patience, sincerity, and passion. I will always remember my experience learning how to make chả from a master in Hue. To receive that traditional recipe, you could not simply ask or pay; you had to prove yourself worthy through respect and perseverance. When I was finally entrusted with the recipe, I was moved to tears. I understood that it was not merely a set of instructions—it was a cultural treasure, a legacy to be safeguarded for a lifetime.
Cooking is more than a skill; it is a lifelong journey of learning and a profound connection between people and heritage.
In the future, when people look back at your contributions to Vietnamese cuisine, what do you hope they will remember most?
I hope that when people think of Tinh Hai, they will remember someone who always honored and preserved tradition, someone who told the stories of Vietnamese cuisine with deep sincerity, and someone who played a meaningful role in bringing the essence of Vietnamese culinary heritage to the world.
This article is part of the series [Cover Story: Thực Vị Trí Tâm], adapted from the original feature published in Tatler Vietnam, February 2025 issue.
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