Authentic Cooking Class

There’s something mildly terrifying about being handed knives, herbs, mystery sauces, and open flames in a foreign country and being told, “You cook now.”

Tonight we did an authentic Vietnamese cooking class, and honestly, it was fantastic.

First up were fresh spring rolls that looked far too pretty to eat. Delicate little bundles of herbs, vegetables, and flavour wrapped tighter than airport security around my luggage. Then came Vietnamese pancakes — crispy, golden, stuffed with goodness.

But the final dish absolutely finished me off. A beautiful pork soup loaded with flavour that somehow managed to taste both comforting and fancy at the same time. Everything was fresh. Everything looked stunning. Even the presentation made me feel underdressed.

The Vietnamese don’t just throw food on a plate. They stage it like a performance. It really did remind me of the play we went last week.

Meanwhile, I’m sitting there pretending I understand what half the ingredients are while happily inhaling everything in sight.

Honestly, I’m surprised I didn’t sink straight to the bottom of the hotel pool afterward. I’ve eaten enough over here to be classified as imported livestock.

And now reality is creeping in.

We fly home Monday, which means tomorrow is our last full day in Vietnam. That strange holiday sadness has already started settling in — the one where you suddenly become emotional about hotel pools, random cafes, and the woman who made your coffee every morning without judging your increasingly questionable tourist clothing.

Of course, in true holiday fashion, I solved the packing problem by buying a massive new suitcase. Not because we planned well. Because apparently both of us believe souvenirs, shoes, tailored clothes, random gifts, and enough market purchases to open a small store “will probably fit.”

They did not.

So now there’s one giant case stuffed with our lives, held together mostly by optimism and zip pressure.

Vietnam has been chaos, heat, noise, incredible food, massages, markets, pools, cocktails, tailors, lantern boats, monkeys, dentists, tuk tuks, and the occasional moment where we genuinely had no idea what was happening.

Which, honestly, is probably why it’s been so good. Mind you, it will be good to go home to the dog and cats; I miss them.