Bánh Xèo

The sizzling turmeric and coconut rice crêpe of the Mekong, folded over pork, prawns, and bean sprouts

Origin: Mekong Delta & Southern Vietnam

From the journey of Turmeric.

The dish is named after a noise. Xèo is the sizzle a thin rice batter makes when it hits a pan of very hot fat, and the name is the whole promise: if it does not make that sound, the pan is not hot enough and the crêpe will be limp. The yellow is turmeric and nothing else, which is worth saying because almost everyone assumes egg. There is no egg in a bánh xèo. Nghệ is stirred into a batter of rice flour and coconut milk, and it does two jobs at once: it gives the colour that makes the dish recognisable across the world, and its faint bitterness sets against the sweetness of the coconut in a way that keeps a rich crêpe from cloying. The coconut milk is the southern signature. Vietnam divides sharply in the kitchen, and the Mekong delta, wet, hot, and a former Khmer territory absorbed by the Nguyễn lords across the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, cooks with coconut in a way the north does not. The southern bánh xèo is consequently large, rich, and made in a wide pan; the central version from Huế and Quy Nhơn, bánh khoái, is small and thick and often has no coconut at all. How it is eaten matters as much as how it is made. A piece is torn off, laid on a mustard leaf or a lettuce leaf with mint and perilla and whatever else is on the table, rolled into a parcel, and dipped in nước chấm. Nobody eats it with a knife and fork, and the greens are not a garnish; the bitterness of the mustard leaf against the fat of the crêpe is half the design. Whether the form itself came from India is argued over. The Indianised kingdoms of Funan and the Cham had a long presence in exactly this territory, and the resemblance to a South Indian dosa, a fermented rice batter cooked thin on a hot griddle, is not lost on anyone who has eaten both. The connection is plausible and unproven, and it is fairer to note the parallel than to claim the descent.

Ingredients

Batter

  • 200 g rice flour
  • 2 tbsp cornflour
  • 1.5 tsp ground turmeric
  • 0.5 tsp salt
  • 250 ml coconut milk
  • 350 ml cold water or light beer
  • 4 whole spring onions, very thinly sliced

Filling

  • 250 g pork belly, skin removed, very thinly sliced
  • 300 g raw prawns, peeled and deveined
  • 1 whole onion, thinly sliced
  • 300 g bean sprouts
  • 1 tbsp fish sauce
  • 0.5 tsp freshly ground black pepper

Frying

  • 8 tbsp groundnut oil or lard, for frying

To Serve

  • 1 large head mustard greens (cải bẹ xanh) or soft lettuce
  • 1 large bunch mint, perilla, and coriander
  • 200 ml nước chấm, to dip

Method

  1. Whisk the rice flour, cornflour, turmeric, and salt together, then beat in the coconut milk and the water until completely smooth and about the consistency of single cream.
  2. Stir in the sliced spring onions and rest the batter for at least thirty minutes.
  3. Toss the pork and prawns with the fish sauce and pepper and set aside. Have every component within reach of the hob before you start; each crêpe takes three minutes and there is no time to fetch anything.
  4. Heat a 24 cm non-stick or well-seasoned pan over a high heat with 1 tbsp of the oil until it is genuinely smoking.
  5. Add a few slices of pork and a few prawns, spread them around the pan, and cook for a minute until the pork begins to colour and the prawns turn pink. Scatter over a little sliced onion.
  6. Stir the batter, then pour a small ladleful into the centre and immediately swirl the pan so it runs out to the edges in a thin sheet. Tilt to fill any gaps.
  7. Pile a handful of bean sprouts over one half, turn the heat down to medium, cover, and cook for two minutes to steam the sprouts through.
  8. Uncover, drizzle a little more oil around the rim, and cook uncovered for a further two to three minutes until the edges lift away from the pan and turn deep gold and brittle.
  9. Fold the crêpe in half over the sprouts, slide it onto a warm plate, and serve at once whilst it is still crisp. Repeat with the remaining batter.
  10. To eat, tear off a piece, wrap it in a mustard or lettuce leaf with a few herbs, and dip in nước chấm.

Notes

There is no egg in bánh xèo. The colour is turmeric, and a recipe that reaches for egg to get there has misunderstood the dish. Beer in place of some of the water is a common southern trick and gives a lighter, crisper result; sparkling water does much the same. A well-seasoned cast iron or carbon steel pan gives the best crust but demands confidence and plenty of fat. Non-stick is far more forgiving and worth using the first few times. Make the nước chấm ahead: fish sauce, lime juice, sugar, water, garlic, and chilli, balanced until it is sweet, sour, and salty at once. The central Vietnamese bánh khoái is the same idea at a quarter of the size, thicker, usually without coconut milk, and served with a fermented soybean and peanut sauce rather than nước chấm. For a vegetarian version, leave out the pork and prawns and fill with fried tofu, shiitake, and plenty of bean sprouts. The batter is already vegan.

The Gastrographer

The Gastrographer

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