Many people think I started importing products because I wanted to become an importer.
That is not true.
I started importing because my family restaurant could not get the quality and service we needed.
When you run a restaurant, every ingredient matters. If the product is inconsistent, the dish changes. If the supplier is unreliable, the kitchen suffers. If the quality drops, the customer notices. You do not get a second chance when someone has already tasted the difference on their plate.
So rather than complain about the supplier, I made a decision. I would source and import the product myself for the family restaurant. That way, I could control the quality. I could control the consistency. I could ensure my family’s restaurant was never at the mercy of a supplier who did not care enough.
That single decision became the beginning of my first import and distribution business. And looking back now, I can see it was also the beginning of Taste of Asia.
When quality and service are not good enough, do not simply accept it. Build something better.
It Began In My Mother’s Kitchen
Before I was an importer, before I ran a restaurant, before I represented brands or visited factories, I was a child standing beside my mother in her kitchen.
My mother is from Southern Vietnam. She is an exceptional cook. Family, friends, and people from our community would ask her to cook for events and gatherings. Her food was that good. Not because she followed recipes precisely. But because she cooked with genuine care.
She taught me something that no university course or food industry training could ever have taught me: good food is not just about the ingredients. It is about the balance between them. It is about freshness, consistency, timing, and the intention behind how you cook.
From a very young age, she would ask me to taste her dishes and give her my honest opinion. Not just “is it good?” but “what does it need?” Is it too salty? Is it missing depth? Is it balanced?
Those moments in her kitchen built my palate before I even understood what a palate was. And they gave me a benchmark that I have never let go of — a benchmark for what food should actually taste like when it is made with the right ingredients and the right care.
Three Regions. Three Teachers. One Understanding.
My mother’s food taught me Southern Vietnamese cooking. But Vietnamese cuisine is not one single style, and I was fortunate enough to learn that early.
My mother-in-law is from Central Vietnam, and she is also an exceptional cook. Through her food, I discovered that Central Vietnamese cuisine has its own distinct flavours, its own techniques, its own ingredients, and its own deep traditions. Where Southern Vietnamese food tends to be sweeter and more balanced, Central Vietnamese food carries intensity, complexity, and a depth of flavour that you either know or you learn to recognise.
I also have close relatives and friends in Northern Vietnam who introduced me to Northern Vietnamese dishes, local specialties, regional ingredients, and food traditions that are different again from the south and the centre.
Authenticity is not a single fixed point. It depends on where something comes from, who makes it, how it is made, and what tradition it belongs to.
The same lesson applies to the products that go into authentic cooking. Not every bottle of fish sauce is the same. Not every brand of soy sauce performs the same way in a dish. Not every rice, every noodle, every paste, or every coconut milk deserves a place in a family’s pantry just because it occupies a shelf.
A Curious Diner Who Could Not Stop Learning
Growing up, eating out was one of my great joys. Whenever I tried a dish I loved at a restaurant, I did not just enjoy it and move on. I would go back and order it again. And again. Each time paying close attention — trying to identify the ingredients, understand the balance, and work out what made it taste the way it did.
When I felt I had learned enough from eating it, I would sometimes ask the restaurant if I could step into the kitchen and learn how to make it properly. What surprised me — and still stays with me today — is how willing those chefs were to say yes. They welcomed me in. They showed me their techniques, their ingredients, their process. That generosity taught me more than I ever could have learned from a cookbook.
This is how I came to understand Asian food beyond Vietnamese cooking. Not through formal study, but through curiosity, repetition, and the kindness of people who took pride in what they made.
That curiosity never left the kitchen. Over the years I have cooked for family and friends, for politicians and business people — sometimes at their homes when invited, sometimes welcoming them into mine on special occasions. I have cooked for loved ones who were unwell, making the soup they loved from a restaurant, recreating it at home because food made with care heals differently than anything else can.
I even took dishes from outside Asian cooking and made them my own. A spaghetti I fell in love with at an Italian restaurant became a version I made at home — adjusted, fused, changed until it worked for my kids and for the children of friends and family around the table. Because good food has no borders. It only has intention.
Because when you grow up knowing what authentic tastes like, you cannot unknow it. And when you later find yourself standing in a warehouse, or visiting a factory floor, or reviewing a product before it goes on a shelf — that standard follows you everywhere.
From Restaurant Kitchen To Grocery Shelf
My food education did not come from textbooks. It came from kitchens, markets, supplier warehouses, factory floors, and the people who took genuine pride in what they made and sold.
It started in my family’s Vietnamese restaurant — not as a manager, but in the kitchen and on the floor. Cooking. Waiting tables. And yes, washing dishes too. It was there, standing at the sink, that I would notice plates coming back with food still on them — and instead of moving on, I would stop and wonder why. Was the dish cooked differently that night? Had an ingredient changed? I could not let it go until I understood what had gone wrong.
From those early years in the restaurant, I moved into importing and wholesale distribution. I built and ran Oriental Food Distributions — supplying restaurants and retailers across Australia, representing major Asian brands, selling into IGA stores, and helping establish Asian grocery ranges in supermarkets. It was during this time that I developed a practice that most people in the industry did not bother with.
I visited manufacturers across Vietnam and other Asian countries. I tasted products before they were packaged, before they were exported, before they ever reached a shelf. I sat in factories and watched how things were made. I learned to tell the difference between a product built around genuine quality and a product built around a price point.
After years of building Oriental Food Distributions, I made a decision that surprised some people. I sold the business and moved back to Vietnam — not to retire, but to contribute. To give something back to the country and the people who had shaped so much of what I knew about food and business. It was there that I owned and operated a restaurant and café. That experience sharpened everything I had already learned.
When I eventually returned to Australia, I saw the grocery shelf differently than most people do. Most consumers see one moment in a product’s life — the shelf. What they do not see is everything that happened before it got there.
That is the part I have spent my career understanding. And it is the part that shaped every decision I have made at Taste of Asia.
What I Noticed When I Came Back
When I returned to Australia after years of living and building multiple businesses in Vietnam and across different industries, I noticed something had changed while buying groceries — the Asian grocery shelf was not what it used to be.
The range had grown — dramatically. But so had the repetition.
Where there were once a handful of trusted brands for a given product, there were now dozens. Different labels. Different packaging. Different price points. But often, when you looked closely — the same product underneath.
The pattern that emerged was predictable. Import a product. Package it under a new brand. Sell it cheaply to generate quick volume. If it sells, keep selling it. If it does not, change the packaging, adjust the price, and try again. The shelf fills up. The choice looks impressive. But the quality, the consistency, and the authenticity behind many of those products is rarely the priority.
Those who were not qualified took advantage of the opportunity — importing low quality products into the market, relying on packaging and price to do the selling. The shelf that looks like abundance is often just noise.
What this does — quietly, over time — is erode something important. When the same product appears under ten different labels at ten different price points, families have no reliable way to know what they are actually buying. More brands does not mean more quality. And a shelf full of options does not mean those options have been chosen with their interests in mind.
If I felt that confusion standing in that aisle — with everything I knew — I could only imagine how overwhelming it felt for families who simply wanted to buy quality ingredients and go home.
What Families Never See — And What The Shelf Does Not Tell You
Walk into almost any Asian grocery store and you will find shelves stocked with product after product. Different brands, different packaging, different languages, different prices, different countries of origin, different claims.
Most families do not have the time, the access, or the industry experience to tell the difference. So they guess. And without guidance, guessing is often the only option available.
Here is what the shelf does not tell you.
The gold label, the heritage story, the chef’s image, the word “authentic” printed in bold — these are packaging decisions, not quality guarantees. I have seen beautifully packaged products that completely underperform in the kitchen, and plainly packaged products that consistently exceed expectations. The product inside is what matters. The front label is designed to sell. It is the back label — the ingredients, the origin, the manufacturing details — that actually tells you what you are buying. Most families never turn the packet over. That habit alone, if changed, would transform the way they shop.
Price is just as misleading. A cheaper product is not always poor quality — but it may be weaker, more diluted, less fragrant, or less consistent than it appears. The right question is never “how much does it cost?” It is “how does this product actually taste, and will it perform the way my family needs it to?”
And then there is the question of the right product for the right dish. This is where most families lose the most — not on price, but on fit. Different cuisines, different regions, and different cooking methods require different ingredients. Without guidance, it is almost impossible to know. And with twenty versions of the same product on the shelf and no one to help, most families simply guess.
How Restaurants Choose Products. And Why It Matters.
There is a fundamental difference between how most consumers choose grocery products and how restaurants choose the products they cook with.
- Which one is cheapest?
- Which one looks good?
- Which one is on special?
- Is the flavour consistent?
- Will it perform every time?
- Can I rely on this supplier?
- Will customers notice if quality changes?
A restaurant cannot survive by choosing products that only look good on a shelf or are simply the cheapest option available. It survives by choosing products that perform consistently in the kitchen, every service, every week, every year.
This is the discipline I learned from working in restaurant kitchens — not just from retail shelves. And it is the discipline I have brought to the way Taste of Asia selects every product it carries.
Why Taste Of Asia Does Not Stock All The Brands
The question I hear most often is this — why does Taste of Asia not carry all the brands? Why not give customers more options?
My answer is always the same.
More products is not the goal. A more trusted pantry is.
Taste of Asia was not built to be the biggest shelf. It was built to be the most trusted one. Every product we carry has been assessed against a set of standards that most families simply do not have the time, the access, or the industry experience to apply themselves.
We evaluate products based on quality, authenticity, consistency, real value, and suitability for genuine home cooking. We do not choose products because they are available. We choose products because we believe they deserve a place in your family’s kitchen.
“Would I be comfortable placing this product in my own family’s kitchen?” If the answer is yes, it earns a place at Taste of Asia. If the answer is no, it does not.
Curation is not limitation. Curation is care.
Groceries Are Not Just Groceries
There is something important that I think about whenever I think about the work Taste of Asia does.
The products a family brings home from the grocery store do not stay on the shelf. They become something.
They become moments.
Moments shared with the people we love. Around a table. After a long day. At the end of a year. At the beginning of a life.
Families should not have to guess about this. They should not have to stand in front of endless shelves, reading labels they cannot fully understand, making decisions based on packaging designed to attract rather than guide.
They deserve something better. They deserve someone who has already done the work.
Taste of Asia was built on a simple belief — that a lifetime of experience should help serve other families, not kept as a secret. That belief grew from years of learning — in kitchens, in warehouses, in restaurants, in factories, and at family tables.
After a lifetime around food — from my mother’s kitchen, to restaurant kitchens across Vietnam and Australia, to grocery retail and wholesale, to importing, to brand representation, to factory floors across Vietnam and other parts of Asia, to supermarket shelves — I came to believe something very simple.
Families should not have to guess.
They deserve guidance built from real experience. From years spent in restaurant kitchens learning how products actually perform. From visiting manufacturers across Vietnam and other Asian countries and tasting products at the source. From decades of importing, distributing, and representing brands — and learning to tell the difference between what is genuine and what is simply good packaging. From a curiosity that started in a mother’s kitchen and never stopped asking questions.
That knowledge should never be kept a secret. It belongs in the hands of every family who simply wants to cook good food for the people they love.
That is why we built Taste of Asia. Not to stock every brand. Not to create the biggest shelf. But to help families choose with confidence.
Our shelves are not a catalogue of everything available. They are a curated selection shaped by experience, testing, and genuine care — chosen by someone who has spent a lifetime learning to tell the difference.
Because groceries are not just products. They are the beginning of the meals, memories, and moments we share with the people we love.
“A Gift of Time, For Your Family!”
Taste of Asia
Because families deserve someone who has already done the work.