Late Night Soup

By the time we make the drive home through cool, thick air after a big night out we are usually hungry.  In a city with a lack of late night options outside of the Pham Ngu Lao, it was a genuine relief to find a dusty gem of a kitchen in our direct homeward path (a bright light on the south side of a murky section of CMT8 between To Hien Thanh and  Le Thi Rieng Park).  They keep it simple here and serve one kind of noodle soup - Hu Tiu Nam Yang.  This delectable, steaming bowl includes fresh slices of pork, shrimp and liver along with thick rice noodles, bean sprouts, a tasty broth, and assorted field vegetables that you add at your own leisure.  The Vietnamese version of Mexico's menudo and Turkey's kelle paca, if you supplement this soup with enough spice, a ponderous interstitial alchemy leads directly to profuse sweating and instantaneous sobriety.

 Typical to Vietnam, the soup is prepared in a booth in front of the restaurant seating area.  We like to play fussy Americans, so we customize our soups by shouting incoherently at the soup man and pointing strenuously at the pig parts we'd like to avoid.  Gavin tends to take it sans liver, whereas I prefer to go vegetarian. 

 When our soup arrives I fight the automatic feeling to dig in.  Instead, I spend some time doctoring it up.  I used to do puzzles, but now my left brain is satisfied through tedious, repetitive activities like soup decoration instead.  I like to add mounds of fresh lettuce, either a crispy iceberg or a sweet butter variant like the night I took these pictures.  I also add plenty of lime, bean sprouts and fresh hot chili peppers. 

If you have ever been to a Pho restaurant, you may recall the different sauces provided to dress up your soup properly.  The ubiquitous sweet brown hoisin, spicy Sriracha, and an oily, ground-chili paste.  Here in Vietnam, you have these same sauces and many more!  Cloves of garlic, Nuoc Mam (fish sauce), ketchup, neon-orange mass-produced hot paste/gel/sauce, fresh chili peppers,  dried ground peppers, unknown pickled vegetable juices, etc.  I love a challenge, but my face resembles a pomegranate if I go too spicy here, so I usually stick with the milder ground chili peppers.

We have become quite the regulars here!

The Bazaar

 Over the past week I had noticed a growing amount of makeshift structures being built in our local park.  I wasn’t sure what was occurring, but it looked as though Le Thi Rieng was slowly transforming from a dingy, urban green space into a grimy refugee camp (or the American euphemism – a tent city).  As the shanty town grew, hordes of people began to mill about and boxes sprang open littering the surrounding area with knock-off apparel. I then realized that only one thing could be happening: a street fair.  Sure enough, the sign went up Friday announcing a week of festivities going on in the park.  On Saturday night, after work, Gavin and I headed over to scope the merchandise and take part in the revelry.  The park was crowded with people of all ages both selling and buying various incarnations of crap.  We arrived with unrefined, naïve expectations: maybe some local artists’ would be displaying their oil paintings or handmade pottery.  Albeit, this was not the place to find anything original.   

We wandered in a daze from booth to booth, examining useless plastics while suffering from sensory overload.   

For sustenance, we turned to faux-shrimp skewers and potato dumplings. Vietnamese fair food is analogous to its American counterpart in composition and flavor - greasy and generally tasteless.  We bought some items here and there. 

Gavin found toothbrush holders shaped like animal heads that are currently attached to our bathroom mirror.  I bought some wooden 3D puzzles (crocodile and human cadaver) and a stuffed animal pencil case named Metoo.  We also found some cute baby booties for friends back home.  

There were whole booths piled high with kitchen utensils , where I got a ladle and a strainer. 

Gavin bought a bag of dried, spicy squid to complement his beer intake.   

There was an overwhelming amount of underwear being sold, yet we passed on the local custom of frantic pile digging.   

 Imitation watches and sunglasses choked the aisles between the tents and on the way out, we even stopped to admire large-scale psychedelic holograms of typical awe-inspiring images: random infants, kittens, gloomy Madonna holding emaciated child, etc.   

To top off this slovenly affair, we stopped at the local KFC franchise before heading home.  I dragged Gavin in and threw him unwillingly into a booth – his stream of muttered invectives finally dammed off by a vanilla cone moonlighting as a pacifier.   

 No wonder students always tell me that KFC is their favorite food group.  There is no finer pairing than Popcorn Chicken and soft-serve ice cream.

Bun Cha Ha Noi

One of our favorite quick and convenient restaurants near our apartment serves Hanoi style delights.  Similar to its politics, Northern Vietnamese cuisine has a hearty Chinese influence; a lot of rich sauces and meats.

The restaurant itself is a haven from the avenue it resides on - Cach Mang Thang Tam (CMT8).  CMT8 is one of the main arteries of the city, it is incessantly clogged and a bad place to be during rush hour.  The restaurant is like a cool oasis from the heat and traffic.  They have misters spewing droplets from an unknown water source, fans oscillating, and cold beer.   

They have a small menu with pictures included; only containing five meal choices.   

My personal favorite is Bun Cha Ha Noi.  Small, bite sized pieces of flank steak are grilled to perfection and added to a sweet broth complete with cucumbers and carrots.  A large plate of greens is provided, containing sprouts, lettuce, assorted leaves, and an unknown curly grass.  Add a heaping plate of vermicelli rice noodles and enjoy.

The Guitar Master

Some time last week, Gavin and I were invited by our coworker, Kip, to a bar, Yoko’s, in District 1.  Yoko’s has live music most nights and a smoky, cozy atmosphere.  Getting to Yoko’s proved to be a feat, and once we finally arrived we were only able to see the band’s final few songs.  We enjoyed what we heard, including a searing rendition of “Johnny B. Goode”, but were left disappointed that we spent an inordinate amount of time trying to find the place. So we jumped on the idea of going to another bar/restaurant after the show with Kip’s friends, including the band.  At 138 we sat outside and drank beers.  I met some awesome female ex-pats.  There seem to be a lot more women here than in Istanbul.  Gavin met a few of the band members; one guy was from the Philippines as there is a large population of Filipino musicians here and another from Vietnam.  He also met a few other Western musicians, who gave him some tips about buying a guitar in Saigon.

Yesterday we set out to buy Gavin his 3-month anniversary present, his very own Vietnamese guitar.  We headed out to the ‘Music Street’ as we had been directed to the other night.  This street reminded me a bit of the hill at the end of Istiklal Street in Istanbul (Tunel): every other store sells guitars and assorted stringed creatures and between the music shops there are hole-in-the-wall juice shops or pho restaurants.  After examining the guitars at a few of these shops, we didn't really feel like anything we saw in our price range was that special as they tended to be generic factory-line models.  So we headed back up towards our apartment to a little shop by our house that we pass almost everyday.  Here we met Tuan.  He makes and sells guitars in his shop in the front room of his house.  Day after day as we passed, we would see him sitting on the floor with his tools surrounding him, working away on his guitars.  His small work shop is packed to the gills with half-finished acoustic, classical and electric guitars, amps, wood, molds, tools and scraps.  There is only a narrow empty aisle through the middle and hardly room enough for Gavin, Tuan, and I to sit and look at the guitars.  Tuan greeted us with hand shakes, a big smile and a little English.  He works sinewy and shirtless in his shop and has 2 extremely long fingernails (as many of the Vietnamese men have here).  He was excited to show off his custom-made guitars and even let Gavin play on one of his electrics with a strange, indented fret board that lets out mournful squeals and squalls of feedback simultaneously (Vietnamese style).  After meeting Tuan we realized we had to buy the guitar from him.

Today we headed back to pick out Gavin’s new friend.  Tuan was all smiles and quickly pulled out a few of the guitars Gavin had tried yesterday.  He ended up deciding on an acoustic with dark rosewood, a sturdy oak neck, and an unpolished matte finish.  It is absolutely beautiful and has a great sound.  Currently Gavin is happy as a clam, strumming and singing in the other room.  I don’t think I have seen him so happy since our arrival.