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Vietnamese Street FoodBy Sheridan Rogers
The cooking smells are irresistible. Now she ladles in a thin stream of rice flour batter and swirls it around. When the mixture begins to bubble, she covers the pancakes briefly with three small lids, then folds the pancakes in half, grabs a plate and serves them to me with a wide smile and sparkling eyes.
One of the giggling women leans forward offering me a spoon while another points to a bowl of fresh green leaves and herbs which are meant to accompany the pancakes. It’s the best meal I’ve had yet on my journey from Ho Chi Minh city (Saigon) to Hanoi. If I’d breakfasted in the hotel, I’d have been offered an airy baguette with jam and butter and a cup of strong robusta coffee sweetened with condensed milk. At this time of the morning, the fish market is bustling. Women in straw-coloured conical hats are quarrelling and shouting over circular bamboo trays full of tiny silver fish, sardines, squid and prawns. Nearby a man is sawing a large block of ice which is used to keep the seafood chilled.
Fresh ingredients are vital to the Vietnamese and, due to lack of refrigeration, the majority of households shop twice a day at their local market. Some markets – like Ben Thanh in Ho Chi Minh and Trung Tam Thuong Mai Bai Chay in Halong – are under cover, whilst others (like the fishmarkets at Nha Trang and Hoi An) are exposed to the elements. No matter what town I visited, it was to the markets I headed first and it didn’t take me long to become addicted to the sounds, smells and flavours of these lively places of commerce. The vitality of the markets spills out onto the streets. No matter where you are in Vietnam, you’ll come across someone wanting to sell you food, be it an elderly woman carrying a “don ganh” (two baskets slung from each end of a wooden or bamboo pole) or a man pushing a bicycle cart and ringing a little bell to announce his approach, selling freshly cut pieces of fruit (watermelon, pineapple), caramelised popcorn or steaming hot buns. But it was the women carrying the “don ganh” (or yoke) who really fascinated me. In their baskets they carry all manner of foods including fresh custard apples, bright orange persimmons, green and yellow bananas, avocados, baguettes or spring rolls.
One day in Hanoi, I could no longer resist the smells of pork being barbecued in the street outside my hotel, so I sat down on one of the small red plastic stools at an impromptu street stall and pointed to the pork. A space was quickly cleared for me at the table and within no time at all a bowl appeared into which had been put half a dozen small pieces of pork, topped with clear soup and a thinly sliced vegetable (which looked like choko). Then a plate of cooked rice noodles arrived along with another plate of fresh herbs and tiny salad greens. I watched the locals putting noodles and greens into the soup and did the same – so tasty and also very filling. I found out later that this was called “bun cha” and that it’s a popular lunchtime dish in Hanoi.
A woman carrying a round silver tray of sticky rice sweets (“banh bo”)came by as I was purchasing the pastries and begged me to buy some. There came in various shapes (triangular, circular and square) and in different coloured layers (bright green and white, purple and white, purple and green). I felt like a kid in a lolly shop (and was obviously an easy target!) and chose three of them. A couple were gelatinous in texture (they’re made with rice flour), not too sweet and really quite satisfying.
Even if you dare eat nothing else from a street stall when in Vietnam, make sure you try a bowl of “pho “ (pronounced “fer”), the fragrant beef noodle soup, popular in the south for breakfast – and almost a cult in Hanoi. Just to sit and watch the preparation of this soup is poetry – first a sieve full of rice noodles is immersed into hot water, drained and poured into your bowl; then a scattering of white onion slices, some finely chopped red chilli, a few shavings of ginger, a handful of bean sprouts and then some finely sliced raw beef over the top. Now comes the final flourish – fragrant beef stock poured over the top and sprinkled with freshly ground pepper. Now it’s over to you: add a squeeze or two of fresh lime, a little chilli sauce, garlic sauce or “nuoc mam” (the ubiquitous fish sauce) and for the final flourish, a handful of fragrant green herbs (various mints, coriander, perilla). Hearty yet delicate, beautifully balanced, full of surprising tastes and textures. Cheap (about $US 1 per bowl), filling and delicious: “pho” is the perfect introduction to any journey through Vietnam. KOTO Restaurant, Hanoi If you tire of Vietnamese food on your travels, there are a number of Western-style restaurants in the main cities to satisfy cravings for pizza, pasta, cappuccino - or steak and chips! One of the most impressive operations I visited on my trip was KOTO, set up three years ago by Jimmy Pham, a 30 year old Vietnamese-Australian. The menu here is one-third Vietnamese, two-thirds Western. In the downstairs café (complete with an Italian espresso machine) you’ll find a tempting array of cakes – a rich chocolate almond cake, carrot cake, lemon tart, sticky date pudding – and even lamingtons! Upstairs in the cool stylish restaurant, the menu offers a range of Middle Eastern and Italian dishes like pumpkin and basil risotto with parmesan, char-grilled Mediterranean vegetables with pita, hummus and pesto, tuna marinated in mustard seeds, garlic and chilli and linguini with fish, fennel seeds, zucchini and tomato. The most expensive dish will set you back $AUD6. But it’s not just the food at KOTO’s which is outstanding, it’s the friendly charming staff, all of whom are former street kids whom Pham met when working as a tour guide in Vietnam during the 1990’s. Many were sent to Hanoi from the countryside by desperately poor parents to earn pitiful sums of money from shoe-shining, selling chewing gum and bargaining with tourists over the cost of a pack of postcards. Pham personally financed the original smaller KOTO to help them learn cooking and hospitality skills – it was so successful that a bigger, better one was opened in September 2000 near the Temple of Literature with plans to open another one in Ho Chi Minh city next year. |
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TM
5:45 am at the fish market in Nha Trang, Central
Vietnam: I’m sitting at a low wooden table on a tiny blue plastic stool on
the sand. Opposite me a woman is smearing three small round blackened pans
with pieces of pork fat. Once the fat has sizzled, she removes it with
wooden chopsticks then throws in some chopped-up pieces of squid which are
fried until golden on both sides.
They’re tricky to eat with chopsticks and already a
small group of women and children have gathered around to watch me. I’m the
only Westerner in sight, especially at this time of the morning. They giggle
and point, trying to show me how to eat them. The pancakes (which are
absolutely delicious) keep slipping back onto the plate. They become even
more slippery when she points to a bowl on the table with a dipping sauce
and shows me how to dunk them into it.
The marketplace is the focal point of life in Vietnam.
Whether it be in a major city, a small hilltown or by the sea, it’s the
busiest part of town and the best place to start any exploration of
Vietnamese food. 
More often than not, though, they carry a portable
kitchen – in one basket sits a charcoal brazier on top of which is a large
pot of simmering stock. In the other basket are stacked bowls of noodles,
fresh herbs, sliced meat, spoons, bowls and cups. Heavy loads indeed! They
stop anywhere and set up shop, a truly inspiring feat to watch. What’s more
– you don’t need to find them, they’ll find you. Just stand on a street
corner long enough and someone will offer you something to eat. And let me
assure you – it will be delicious!
Another day, not having had time for lunch, I grabbed a
couple of dome-shaped pastries (“bate gan”) from a street stall in Ho Chi
Minh city. They turned out to be filled with a tasty minced pork filling
enclosed by a light glazed puffy pastry.
Many Western tourists to Vietnam are afraid to try the
street food because they are worried about falling ill. I was the only one
in a group of 12 who ventured away from the hotel and restaurant food – and
the only one who didn’t fall ill! As far as I was concerned, the others
missed out on a vital opportunity to get to know the heart and soul of the
country because it is when you are sitting at one of these stalls that you
can begin a conversation with the people.