![]() ![]() Meanwhile, Yana Gilbuena, who travels around hosting SALO Series, a Filipino kamayan feast, likens its essence to “a grassy floral vanilla.”īecause of their similarity, pandan is often coined “the Asian vanilla” or “vanilla of the East.” Tran also uses these analogies at his bakery to introduce this flavoring to curious customers. It is a scent as much as a flavor, “almost translucent, if such a word applies - like water left to steep in a bamboo cup,” she writes in her book Filipinx: Heritage Recipes from the Diaspora. ![]() To the Filipino chef and activist Angela Dimayuga, pandan’s taste evades description. ![]() “It’s grassy without being earthy,” says Sam Fore, a Kentucky-born Sri Lankan American chef who runs the Lexington pop-up Tuk Tuk Sri Lankan Bites. Christopher Tan, a cookbook author and culinary instructor who lives in Singapore, reports that he’s also detected notes of pandan in jasmine flowers, barley, cut grass, and hay. The compound is also found in fragrant rice varieties such as basmati and jasmine, and in the smell of popcorn and crabmeat. Pandan’s aroma is developed when a yellow pigment breaks down as the leaves wither, producing the volatile compound 2-acetyl-1-pyrroline (2AP). Pandan’s mighty power is hidden in its leaves. It whispers in the fluffy rice grains of nasi lemak, a popular dish in Singapore and Malaysia featuring coconut rice served with crispy anchovies and peanuts alongside sambal in the Filipino dessert salad buko pandan, pandan announces itself loud and clear in the form of a vibrant green jelly. Pandan can star in a dish as well as play a supporting role to accentuate other ingredients. Pandan’s mighty power is hidden in its leaves: When they’re bruised and cooked they release an intriguing aroma variously described as floral, grassy, or sweet and musky. One of its signature cakes contains a layer of pandan chiffon cake resting on a base of coconut-infused sticky rice, which reminds me of green glutinous rice sprinkled with coconut flesh and other sweet toppings, often sold by street vendors in Vietnam. “You could definitely walk by it and not realize you’re looking at pandan.” Tran is the owner of Là Lá Bakeshop, a Vietnamese bakery in Toronto that uses pandan liberally in its pastries. “It looks like regular grass if you don’t know what you’re looking for,” says Brian Tran. Native to South and Southeast Asia, it thrives in tropical conditions and varies in size a pandan shrub can reach somewhere between 5 and 14 feet, with leaves from 1 to 5 inches wide. The pandan plant is recognized by its elongated blade-shaped leaves that resemble the top of a pineapple plant (a similarity that earned the plant the moniker of lá dứa, or “pineapple leaf,” in Vietnamese, though it has no relation to the fruit). The leaves of other Pandanus species can be used to make handicraft such as mats, ropes, and baskets. Out of 700 species under this genus, pandanus amaryllifolius is the only one with fragrant leaves (another related variety produces perfumed flowers that are distilled into kewra essence, a flavoring in North Indian cuisine). Pandan is the common name for Pandanus amaryllifolius, a perennial shrub belonging to the Pandanus genus of the screw pine (Pandanaceae) family. Whether it’s used in sweet or savory dishes, pandan’s verdant green and nuanced aroma add a special flair to everything it touches. When I was a student in Singapore, I could never get enough of chendol, a cold dessert featuring wormlike pandan jelly and an assortment of toppings in coconut milk and palm sugar syrup. It mellows the pungent fish sauce and brings brightness to the heady spices. ![]() The secret to my aunt’s cá kho (Vietnamese braised fish) is a bundle of pandan leaves that she ties into a knot and simmers in the braising liquid. ![]()
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