Fish Sauce

as a Bridge Between Cultures

I'm looking at fish sauce from my fridge. And it brings memories. Funny.
Not this particular bottle ( this one is from Amazon) but fish sauce in general.

When I learn first about fish sauce I thought it was something gross.

Traveling through Asia is more than just taking in stunning landscapes; for a young traveler like me, it's also a culinary journey that opens up new worlds of flavors and aromas. When I first landed in Thailand, I had no idea that one of the most significant discoveries of my trip wouldn’t be an exotic fruit or a mysterious spice, but something as simple as fish sauce.

My First Encounter with Fish Sauce in Thailand

Thailand greeted me with a whirlwind of smells from street food stalls, where lemongrass, cilantro, and… something intensely fishy filled the air. That "something" would soon become my new obsession. One of my first meals was a classic pad thai at a small family-run restaurant. There was this subtle yet powerful taste I couldn’t quite place. When I asked the owner what gave the dish its unique flavor, she smiled and said, nam pla—Thai fish sauce.

I was surprised. Fermented fish? Really? How could something like that add such a rich, umami-packed punch to a dish? Intrigued, I started digging into what fish sauce was all about, and to my surprise, I learned that this wasn't just a Thai thing. It was all over Southeast Asia, and even crazier—it had been around for thousands of years in different parts of the world.

As I continued my travels through Asia, I realized that fish sauce was everywhere, just in different forms. In Vietnam, I discovered nuoc mam, a key ingredient in everything from fresh spring rolls to the famous pho. It was more subtle than the Thai version, but just as essential to the cuisine. In Cambodia, I found teuk trei, a sauce that added depth to fresh salads, especially the ones with green papaya.

I never been to the Philippines, where they have their own version called patis.

The Surprising Connection: From Asia to Ancient Rome

I'm a Pole, so soy sauce, and Worcester even was kinda alien for me until adulthood.
But here’s where it gets even crazier. As I kept learning about fish sauce, I stumbled upon something that totally blew my mind: fish sauce wasn’t just an Asian thing. Back in ancient Rome, thousands of miles away, they had their own version of fish sauce called garum.

Just like the stuff I was tasting in Thailand and Vietnam, garum was made from fermented fish, and the Romans used it on almost everything—meats, veggies, you name it.

I couldn’t wrap my head around it. How could two cultures that were so far apart, both geographically and historically, come up with nearly the same thing? Fermenting fish in salt to create a magical flavor bomb—was it just coincidence, or was it proof of how creative humans can be when they’re chasing new tastes?

In every country I visited, fish sauce wasn’t just an ingredient—it was part of the cultural identity. In Thailand, it was the soul of street food. In Vietnam, it accompanied nearly every traditional dish. And yet, its history stretched even further back, tying modern Asia to the distant past of ancient Rome.

This realization didn’t just add depth to my culinary adventures in Asia—it also reminded me that food, in all its diversity, can be a bridge between cultures. Fish sauce, this seemingly simple mixture of fermented fish and salt, turned out to be a symbol of humanity's shared quest for flavor, proof that even the most distant cultures have more in common than we might think.

(© wikimedia)