
Food fermentation in Asia: a culinary atlas of pickles, pastes and probiotics
While miso is more popular as a soup, it also stars in glazes for eggplant (nasu dengaku), marinades and even desserts like miso caramel. Packed with probiotics, B vitamins and minerals, it's as nourishing as it is tasty.
Doenjang has been part of Korean food culture since at least the Three Kingdoms period (57 BCE to 668 CE). Traditionally made by ageing blocks of dried soybean paste called meju in earthenware pots, doenjang has a rustic, deeply funky aroma and flavour that sets it apart from Japanese miso. This thick paste is used in beloved Korean stews like doenjang jjigae, as well as in ssamjang, the dipping sauce for Korean barbecue. Families would often hang meju blocks from their rafters in winter, believing the air and natural microbes imparted health benefits and depth of flavour.
Furu or fermented tofu comes in several varieties. The white version has a creamy, brie-like texture, while red furu gets its colour and mild sweetness from red rice yeast. Then there's chou doufu or stinky tofu, which is boldly pungent and revered in Taiwan and parts of southern China. Despite its intense aroma, fermented tofu has a deeply savoury profile that works beautifully in congee, stir-fried vegetables like kong xin cai (water spinach) or as a spread. Taiwan banners it so much, it even shows up in desserts, paired with sweet syrup or sticky rice.
Legend has it that natto was discovered by accident when a samurai left boiled soybeans wrapped in straw in his bag. The result was a uniquely sticky, stringy and pungent product that's still divisive today. Natto is often compared to stinky cheese in both smell and intensity. You can eat it over hot rice with raw egg, mustard and scallions or enjoy it in sushi rolls like natto maki. Despite its acquired taste, natto is incredibly healthy. It's rich in vitamin K2 and nattokinase, which have both been linked to heart health and improved blood circulation.
Tempeh is native to Java and was first recorded in 19th-century Javanese manuscripts. Unlike soy sauce or miso, which use soybean paste, tempeh is made from whole soybeans fermented with Rhizopus mould. The result is a firm, cake-like product with a nutty, earthy flavour and a satisfyingly meaty texture. Tempeh is commonly deep-fried as tempe goreng, stir-fried in oseng-oseng, or grilled inside banana leaves. As a high-protein, plant-based food with gut-friendly properties, tempeh is gaining popularity globally.
Gochujang only became a fixture in Korean cuisine after chilli peppers were introduced from the Americas in the 16th century. A mixture of fermented soybeans, glutinous rice, red pepper powder and salt, gochujang has a thick, sticky texture and a flavour that balances sweet heat with fermented umami. It's a key ingredient in tteokbokki (spicy rice cakes), bibimbap and spicy bulgogi marinades. Traditionally, gochujang was left to ferment in clay jars called onggi, which you can still see in traditional K-dramas. These allow the flavours to mature under the sun. Fermented vegetables and pickles
Above Kimchi (Photo: Portuguese Gravity / Unsplash)
Kimchi came from the need to preserve cabbage and vegetables during Korea's icy winters. While early versions were white and mild, the arrival of chilli peppers (read gochujang's backstory) changed everything. Modern kimchi is spicy, sour, garlicky and fizzy, thanks to lactic acid fermentation. It's a staple side dish served with every Korean meal, but it also appears in kimchi jjigae (stew), pancakes (buchimgae) and fried rice. Unesco has even recognised the annual kimjang season, when families gather to make giant batches, as Intangible Cultural Heritage.
Tsukemono refers to the wide array of Japanese pickles served as palate cleansers or digestive aids. These include takuan (yellow daikon pickles), umeboshi (sour pickled plums often found in onigiri) and colourful blends like shibazuke or fukujinzuke. Each region—or even household—has its take, often passed down through generations. In Kyoto, tsukemono are essential in a traditional kaiseki meal, showcasing the balance and seasonality central to Japanese cuisine.
From Sichuan province comes pao cai, a tangy, crunchy pickle that brims with chilli, garlic and Sichuan peppercorns. Made by fermenting vegetables like mustard greens and cabbage in a spiced brine, pao cai is a fixture in everyday Chinese meals, adding heat and brightness to noodle soups or hot pot. Some families maintain 'forever brines' passed down for decades, with layers of flavour and local microbiomes lending depth to each new batch.
More common in northern China, suan cai is fermented napa cabbage or mustard greens with a tart, vegetal flavour. It's essential to dishes like suan cai yu (sour fish stew) or pork stir-fries, where its acidity cuts through richness. Typically made during colder months, suan cai is milder than its Sichuanese cousin, pao cai, and often used in broths or dumpling fillings.
Atchara, the Filipino take on pickled papaya, has its roots in Indian achar, introduced via Spanish colonial trade. Made from grated green papaya, carrots, bell peppers and ginger, it's pickled in vinegar and sugar to achieve a crunchy, sweet-sour balance. Atchara is indispensable alongside fatty Filipino dishes like lechon kawali, longganisa or tocino. It's often prepared in bulk for fiestas and holidays. While often relegated as a side player, it adds a different kick to classic Filipino cuisine.
Don't miss: 8 fermented Filipino food you should know
Vietnam's most beloved pickles are light, quick and refreshing. Dưa chua, often made with mustard greens or napa cabbage, and đồ chua, the classic carrot-daikon pickle, bring crisp acidity to dishes like bánh mì, cơm tấm and fresh spring rolls. Pickled using rice vinegar and sugar, they lend balance and crunch to the country's rich grilled meats and savoury broths.
Gundruk is mountain food fermentation made with sun-dried mustard greens, radish leaves or cauliflower greens with the intention for long-term storage. Its earthy sourness is used in soups, curries or pickles throughout Nepal, particularly in the winter months when fresh produce is scarce. It's not just a food item—it's a preservation lifeline in high-altitude communities.
Myanmar's mohnyin tjin is a bold, briny pickle made from mustard greens, chillies, garlic and sticky rice. Fermented in jars or clay pots, the result is a slightly alcoholic, salty-sour condiment often eaten as a side dish or salad, dressed with sesame oil and peanuts. It appears frequently with mohinga, the national noodle soup, and pairs wonderfully with fried foods. Fermented seafood and meat
Above A look at a fish sauce factory (Photo: Quang Nguyen Vinh / Pexels)
Fish sauce may have older roots than soy sauce, with some historians drawing parallels between it and Roman garum. Across Asia, anchovies or small fish are layered with salt and left to ferment in barrels for months to years. The resulting amber liquid is intensely umami and salty, with varying degrees of sweetness and funk depending on the region. It's indispensable in Vietnamese bun cha, Thai som tam, Filipino tinola and countless dipping sauces. Each culture adapts it—Thai nam pla is bold, Filipino patis is often lighter and sweeter, while Vietnamese nuoc mam can be delicate and fragrant.
Shrimp paste is Southeast Asia's answer to anchovy paste—an umami bomb made from ground fermented shrimp, sun-dried and pressed into blocks. Each country has its variant: kapi in Thailand, terasi in Indonesia, belacan in Malaysia and bagoong alamang in the Philippines. It's toasted before use to mellow the aroma, and appears in sambals, curries, stir-fries and dipping sauces. Despite its strong scent, it's a culinary cornerstone across the region.
See more: Where does Malaysia stand in the funky world of fermented foods?
This needs a separate section altogether. The Philippines has an entire vocabulary for its fermented seafood condiments. Bagoong isda (anchovy-based) and bagoong alamang (shrimp-based) vary by region, fermentation time and seasoning. Often aged in large clay jars and sold in wet markets, bagoong can be sautéed into dishes like binagoongan, used in kare-kare (peanut stew) or eaten raw with green mangoes. Ilocano variants are especially prized and aged longer for intense flavour.
Nem chua is a pink, tangy, slightly fizzy snack made from ground pork, garlic, chilli, sugar and rice—wrapped in banana leaves and left to ferment. It's served cold with chilli and herbs, or grilled for a crispy finish. Despite being a meat product, the fermentation gives it a surprisingly bright acidity that offsets its richness, making it a coveted street snack in Vietnam.

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Tatler Asia
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Tatler Asia
28-07-2025
- Tatler Asia
9 claypot traditions that define Asian comfort cooking
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Vietnam's ca kho to In southern Vietnam, especially across the fertile reaches of the Mekong Delta, ca kho to, or catfish caramelised in a claypot, is a dish of quiet mastery. Chunks of catfish are slowly braised in a mix of palm sugar, fish sauce, black pepper and sometimes coconut water until the sauce reduces to a dark, glistening glaze. The result is a balance of sweet, salty and deep umami, with the fish becoming fall-apart tender yet remarkably rich. The claypot, known as to, gently radiates heat, ensuring even cooking and allowing the taste to concentrate without burning. Even after it leaves the stove, the to continues to work its magic. The thick pot holds warmth long after the fire's out, letting the sauce bubble and intensify tableside, perfuming the air with caramel and spice. 6. Japan's donabe claypot traditions While Japan's donabe or claypot dishes may not boast the charred bravado of their Southeast Asian counterparts, they are quietly profound. 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It requires care, including gentle heating and respectful washing, but in return, it rewards you with warmth that feels ancestral. 7. Korea's dolsot bibimbap Bibimbap is already a classic, but dolsot or stone pot bibimbap is a sensory upgrade: the crackle when rice hits hot stone, the hiss as gochujang sizzles into caramelised edges, the visual drama of egg yolk sliding down julienned vegetables. Is your mouth not watering? Dolsot bibimbap is part-meal, part ASMR. The stone bowl, often granite or earthenware, stays blisteringly hot, creating a crisp crust known as nurungji. Originating from Jeonju and popularised through temple and royal cuisine, dolsot bibimbap has become Korea's most elegant comfort food. It is served just as often in hanok guesthouses as in food courts. It's a dish that rewards patience: don't stir too early or you'll miss the magic. 8. India's dum biryani in clay handis You can trace biryani's ancestry back to Persia. However, India perfected this dish's most regal expression: the Indians cook it dum style in a traditional handi or clay pot. The process is a masterclass in culinary engineering: layers of spiced, yoghurt-marinated meat, saffron-laced basmati rice, crisp fried onions and ghee are arranged like edible strata, then sealed with dough to lock in every wisp of steam. The handi is left to slow-cook over smouldering heat, letting flavours bloom in isolation. The result? Fluffy, fragrant rice that gently collapses under the weight of its aroma, meat so tender it could be mistaken for silk and a delicate smokiness courtesy of the clay. In historic royal kitchens, handis were buried in embers like time capsules of indulgence. Even now, in Hyderabad or Lucknow, you'll spot biryani vendors wrapping claypots in jute and string, as if swaddling treasure. Because truly, that's what this is: slow-cooked opulence, sealed with intention. 9. 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Tatler Asia
26-07-2025
- Tatler Asia
What makes the tea-drinking culture of ancient Vietnamese people special?
Vietnamese tea needs no designated tea room as in Japan, nor the formal arrangement of teacups found in Chinese rituals. A clay kettle, a small pot and a few modest cups placed in the heart of a wooden house, perhaps beside a tray of betel and areca, with birdsong in the eaves, is all it takes to create a moment of quiet elegance. Tea in everyday Vietnamese life Vietnamese tea-drinking culture is composed of two distinct streams: folk tea and royal tea. Records from the Le and Nguyen dynasties tell of royal tea at state banquets, diplomatic receptions and ceremonial rites, tea served with reverence, governed by ritual. By contrast, folk tea seeps gently into the rhythms of daily life, becoming a silent companion to everyday moments and a subtle thread of social connection. Above The teapot is not merely a household object, but a silent witness to history (photo: Vietnamese tea culture) In the memory of the old countryside, mornings often began with the delicate scent of green tea, simmered with guava leaves or freshly plucked buds. On scorching summer afternoons, a modest cup of green tea offered quiet relief, a sincere gesture to ease the heat. Come nightfall, around a warm brazier, grandparents would gather, hands cradling tea cups, voices lowered in simple, familiar stories steeped in familial warmth. Therefore, the teapot is not merely a household object, but a silent witness to history; a vessel steeped in tradition, humanity and familial order. It holds moments of calm, stories shared between generations, and a portrait of village life that continues to linger in memory. Above In each variation, tea becomes not just a matter of taste or fragrance, but a quiet meeting of sky, earth and human touch (photo: Unsplash) Vietnamese people have also upheld a refined tradition of tea-scenting, transforming the act of tea-drinking into an art form. West Lake lotus tea, for instance, is scented by layering lotus petals and dried tea overnight beneath the mist, distilling the essence of the natural world into each cup. Jasmine, wolfberry and chrysanthemum teas each reveal regional techniques that echo the aesthetic sensibilities of the local people. In each variation, tea becomes not just a matter of taste or fragrance, but a quiet meeting of sky, earth and human touch. Vietnamese tea, the interweaving of many cultures While the Japanese tea ceremony is a path to pure meditation, built on the principles of harmony, respect, purity and tranquillity, often within dedicated tea rooms, Vietnamese tea is simpler, woven into the everyday. In Vietnam, tea is sipped on the front porch, under a banyan tree, in the courtyard of a communal house, or by the edge of the rice fields. It is there to remind one of the gentleness found in small, passing moments. Compared to China, where tea is elevated into a theatrical display with elaborate brewing rituals, the Vietnamese approach is more understated. There is a fondness for the humble: brewing tea in a clay pot, sometimes with nothing more than harvested rainwater and placing emphasis not on the form, but the feeling. Above Vietnamese tea is a quiet companion meant for reflection, for conversation, for listening (photo: Vietnamese tea culture) In the West, tea is often presented through formal traditions like British afternoon tea, where etiquette plays a central role. But at its heart, it remains social. Vietnamese tea, on the other hand, is not a performance. It is a quiet companion meant for reflection, for conversation, for listening. It invites slowness, not stimulation. See also: Decode your daily brew: must-know coffee terms for coffee lovers Above Tea artisans, researchers and passionate tea lovers are leading efforts to recover the lost roots (photo: Vietnamese tea culture) Reviving tea-drinking culture The 20th century brought with it upheaval: wars, political shifts, and sweeping waves of modernisation. Alongside the rise of coffee culture, alcohol, soft drinks and the expansion of urban life, traditional tea rituals began to fade. Once a fixture of everyday living, tea became something reserved for honoured guests or packaged for sale. Yet in the early years of the 21st century, signs of a cultural revival began to take shape. Tea artisans, researchers and passionate tea lovers are leading efforts to recover the lost roots, from reviving ancient brewing methods and rediscovering native tea varieties such as Shan Tuyet, Bach Hac, Suoi Giang, Ta Xua, Phin Ho and Khe Coc, to creating new tea spaces enriched with poetry, calligraphy and traditional Vietnamese art. Above Shan Tuyet Ha Giang carries the deep flavour of high mountain ranges, with a lingering sweet finish (photo: Ha Giang) Above The aroma of Ta Xua Son La tea is rich and evocative, steeped in the scent of the Northwest's earth and sky (photo: Shan Tea) Like the layered notes of a mountain symphony, each ancient Vietnamese tea variety carries its own distinct temperament. Shan Tuyet Ha Giang tea, cloaked in a soft coat of snow-white fuzz, holds the bold flavour of the highlands and a lingering sweetness. Suoi Giang Yen Bai, meanwhile, is rustic and pure, like the cool mist at 1,300 metres above sea level. Ta Xua Son La tea has a strong, ardent aroma saturated with the scent of the Northwest's earth and sky. In contrast, Phin Ho Hoang Su Phi offers a deeper, more robust flavour, enriched by the age-old processing secrets of the Red Dao people. Then there is Khe Coc Thai Nguyen tea, with its gentle, light quality that mirrors the softness of the midland region. Each cup captures a fragment of Vietnam's taste and colour: delicate, resilient, and enduring, much like its people. True to the sentiment expressed by Trinh Quang Dung in Vietnamese Tea Civilisation : 'Vietnamese tea culture is a culture of reconciliation and harmony. It is deep, not ostentatious, but permeates as long as the drizzle of the North.' Above The quiet beauty of tea culture deserves recognition as a vital strand of Vietnam's spiritual heritage (photo: Vietnamese tea culture) Reviving tea-drinking culture, then, is not merely about returning to old culinary habits. It is a reawakening of a once-vibrant way of life, a depth of spirit that formed the soul of the community. The tea culture of ancient Vietnam was never theatrical, nor was it framed as academic or elite. It was modest and rustic, yet carried profound resonance. Even during moments when it seemed to recede or disappear, Vietnamese tea culture remained like a hidden stream, flowing quietly beneath the surface, nourishing the cultural roots of the nation. And now, in the midst of an increasingly hurried world, as people search for stillness and authenticity, the elegance of tea culture deserves recognition as a vital strand of Vietnam's spiritual heritage. With that spirit, each cup of tea becomes a trace of history, a continuation of a civilisation built on reflection and grace. Tea, in this sense, is not merely something to be tasted, but a path through which we revisit the cultural layers that shaped the land, touched the soul, and flowed through time.