The Wu Wei of Huế

It wasn’t what we came for, but exactly what we needed.

What Taoism refers to as “Wu Wei”, our Western mind translates as “going with the flow.” In practice, the Taoist puts an emphasis on not trying. Rather than bulldozing forward to get what you want, a fundamental characteristic of the American philosophy of manifest destiny, Taoism teaches that you are more likely and better prepared to achieve your desires through inaction, patience, and synchronizing with the natural flow of your environment. Growing up, there was perhaps no trait more valued in my family than work ethic. I was born to bulldoze. And so, this lesson of “Wu Wei” has been a hard one learned for me over the years, and I continue to find myself relearning it time and time again. 

While in Huế, this lesson finds me again while on my mission to eat Bun Bo Huế, a more flavorful and mildly spicier cousin of Pho which originated in Huế. I arrived in Huế with excitement and eagerness to make the most of our 36 hours there. Huế was once the political, cultural, and religious center of the Nguyen emperors who ruled Vietnam from 1802 to 1945. The royal court was known for its elaborate and elegant dishes which heavily influenced the culinary traditions in Huế today. This includes a diverse array of freshwater seafood from the Perfume River, aromatic herbs, vegetables, exotic spices, fragrant flowers, and rare meats all harvested from this region. I’ve mentioned my affinity for Vietnam’s impeccable achievement of balanced flavors, yet Huế Cuisine takes it to another level with its emphasis and pride in gastronomical harmony. You see, what separates Huế Cuisine from other regions is their use of fermented ingredients, such as shrimp paste and fish sauce which adds depth and a savory umami flavor to the dishes. Arguably Huế’s best-known culinary contribution to Vietnamese cuisine is Bun Bo Huế. This beef noodle soup is made with round vermicelli noodles instead of flat rice noodles found in pho. Its robust beef broth is tinted red with the use of herbs, spices, and spiced shrimp paste. As for the meat, it is often served with a mix of beef, pork knuckles, fish cakes, and "blood tofu" (jellied pigs blood – very delicious, tastes like a sweeter, smoother pâté). 

I was completely fixed on the idea of having my first bun bo huế bowl in the land of its creation, and in fact, passed several opportunities in various delicious-looking food stands across South Vietnam to wait for my first bite to be a Huế original. But as Wu Wei teaches, the harder I tried, the harder I failed. While in Huế, I made three attempts to try bun bo huế, and each time was served various forms of its milder, slightly sweeter version of Bún Bò Tai where the only real, yet important distinction is the lack of spiced shrimp paste. I blame no one but myself for these miscommunications, and although I never achieved the spiced red broth of my fantasies, I was never dissatisfied with the flavor or experience.

You see, perhaps the most important thing about Vietnamese cuisine, especially with these roadside vendors, is that typically each vendor has one dish they specialize in. Just one. This speaks volumes to the Vietnamese culture and value system. It’s not uncommon that this single recipe has been practiced, perfected, inherited, and financially supported multiple generations of a family. Family is central to Vietnamese culture, more so than religion or government, family is always what’s at the core. So each dish you get in Vietnam, even if it’s three different bowls of bun bo huế, will be slightly different because each family recipe will have its own unique method. Just like fine art can have an aura, evidence of the time and place in which it was first created, so does a recipe. You can understand a lot about a family or community based on the ingredients, and the techniques used. Which cuts of meat they use, their serving sizes, and regionally harvested ingredients all record important pieces of a family's story that they are sharing with you. Although I missed the mark on what I was looking for, my bun bo huế strikeout enriched my understanding and appreciation for not just Vietnamese cuisine, but for my awe of family recipes and the significance they hold. A lesson I may have missed if I had been served what I was looking for right off the bat. Failure is an excellent teacher.

But do not fear fair readers, my time in Huế was not a culinary bust. On our last morning in Huế, after my third failed attempt at bun bo huế in Huế, we made our way in search of Chè (a cold soup specialty of Huế). Like driving back in time, the commercialized energy of the tourist-focused Old Town slipped away as the concrete road transitioned to dirt. The drive takes us across the Perfume River, and down a road barely wider than the car itself. Generations of children play in the street, women are cleaning and preparing their homes, shops, and food stands; groups of men gather under the shade smoking, laughing, and sipping rice tea and coffee, street dogs run from one shaded spot to the next as they look for scraps.

We arrive at our destination where we find that Wu Wei has been waiting for us yet again. “Too early for Chè,” the vendor tells us, so instead we have her specialty, Bún Hến. It’s baby river clams from the Perfume River, peanuts, pork rinds, and a combination of shrimp paste, chili paste, and various greens and spices that I’m unsure of, served with a sweet broth on the side that I later learn is made of muscles. It can be served with rice or vermicelli noodles. Of course, I go with the noodles. An incredibly robust and flavorful meal for 15,000 dong (which equates to about $.60 cents USD). The dish is a beautiful abundance of pebble-sized clams and local vegetables and herbs. It wasn’t what we came for, but it was exactly what we were searching for. This is Wu Wei in a baby clamshell. Our true desire was not the chè or the bun bo huế, it was to have delicious, authentic, and local dishes which originated in the region we were visiting. Once we submitted to the flow of Huế, we were rewarded with its spoils. It was my second breakfast of the day and my favorite meal of Huế.