Pham-Kelly - The Little Viet Kitchen

Me, 3 years old, with my big sister and mummy, posing somewhat awkwardly for a photo to send to dad. This was the first photo we sent him; we werent sure it would even get to him, but we were hopeful. 1984, Tr Vinh, Vietnam.

The contrast of being often surrounded by food and yet not always having enough for dinner is, I think, where my deep love and respect for food really began. Plus Ive always had a bottomless appetite so have spent my whole life either eating, or thinking about what Ill be eating next!

On those days at the farm I would constantly follow grandma around trying to be helpful with the daily chores. Looking back on it Im sure that I was more of a hindrance than a help, but at the time I was certain I was an essential assistant that she couldnt possibly manage without. Grandma always looked and sounded angry, yet had a kind and mischievous glint in her eyes. After the chores were done she would call me over to her and I would run as fast as I could because I knew what that meant it was always delicious! She would wear a well-worn, patchwork o b ba, a traditional Vietnamese shirt, worn by both men and women in the rural areas of the Mekong Delta. It had two small pockets on the front, and as if by magic, sweet treats would appear from them! Normally this was either ko da, a coconut caramel wrapped in rice paper, or ko m xng, a brittle sesame candy. My favourite though, was me ngo ng, a deliciously chewy tamarind sweet. I guess it could probably be considered a fairly meagre payment for a days work on the farm, but I was very happy with the deal then and Id probably be tempted by it again today!

At the time, what I really wanted was to be an adult, as that way Id be allowed to help with the cooking rather than just the cleaning or the other chores around the farm. However, it was more likely because I thought once Id learned to cook Id be able to eat all the time!

My memories of my grandpa are different. Whilst grandma never stopped moving and did everything at a frightening pace, grandpa was the complete opposite. He would always sit on the front porch sipping on tea, often alone unless guests came. He wouldnt say much, often nothing at all. Calm, kind and wise-looking, he rarely smiled or laughed. Everyone seemed to fear grandpa but I never understood why. Looking back as an adult I can see that actually the people of our village just had an incredible respect for him but that was something I couldnt understand at that young age. I sometimes sat with him to keep him company, but grandma would always shoo me away saying you cant sit there. Go outside and play. This would puzzle me because surely he wanted company and who better than his favourite granddaughter?! I would constantly ask him questions as there seemed so much to learn about being a grown up and he always seemed to have all of the answers!