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.

Lau

The other afternoon Gavin and I tried a new dish called Lau.  We ordered Shrimp Lau to share for lunch.  A portable hot plate powered by a small gas canister was brought to our table, turned on, and a pot of vegetable soup was set on top. 

The other afternoon Gavin and I tried a new dish called Lau.  We ordered Shrimp Lau to share for lunch.  A portable hot plate powered by a small gas canister was brought to our table, turned on, and a pot of vegetable soup was set on top.   

While the pot was warming up, our server brought out a platter of raw, whole shrimp fresh from a murky tank, vermicelli noodles, and fresh greens.   

The greens contained okra, some sort of soft, bitter root, bamboo shoots, sprouts, and leaves.  Just as the broth came to a boil, we added the shrimp to the simmering soup, and dumped most of the greens in.  Once the shrimp morphed from cold, wet and gray to plump, pink and edible, we put the noodles in our smaller personal bowls and used a ladle to top it off with broth, veggies and the aforementioned crustaceans.   

The soup itself differed greatly from the insipid broth all too commonly passed off here.  A sweet tangy flavor, highlighted by pineapple and tomato greeted our palates.  We added some hot chili peppers to turn up our body temps and dug in.  It was the perfect meal for two: we each filled our bowls over and over again until at last all the soup was gone and our bellies were full.

Pho Ga

As some of you know, Pho Ga (chicken noodle soup) is my favorite food.  Pho reminds me of everything good in life: after-school lunches with Alesha Murko in high school, exploring New York City’s Chinatown, attempting in vain to get my brother and father to enjoy the Than Brothers (the kingpins of the Seattle Pho scene), and Gavin’s infamous allergic reactions to the deadly onions floating through the clear broth.  Oh the memories…

Pho Ga in Saigon has been interesting to say the least.  Initially, I was pleased by the abundance of white meat and fresh garnishes.  The second time, I discovered the skin.  The chicken skin that stays attached to the white meat, hanging on by fatty tendons.  It looked like, well, boiled, flaccid chicken skin: tan, with small bumps where plumage had once sprung.  It added a thick, greasy layer to the broth and tasted foul (no pun intended).  One piece actually still had a bit of feather remaining in the follicles. 

The last time I had Pho Ga, and finally swore it off, was nearly two weeks ago.  We drove down to the Pham and decided to get a bite to eat before we headed to a bar.  We chose a modern Pho restaurant with human-size chairs and I ordered my usual.  When it came, I noticed how murky the broth was and how soggy the noodles were.  The meat was all dark and some were still attached to shards of bone.  The amazing amount of skin left an unusually dense fatty layer on top of the broth.  Although I dressed my Pho to perfection with Hoisin sauce, chili pepper, bean sprouts and lime, it never quite tasted right.  Then I felt it.  Mid-bite, a sharp needle pierced my cheek.  It was scratching into my gums, making me feel sicker by the second as I realized what it was.  Finally I reached into my mouth and pulled it out - a talon.  An entire chicken toenail had been residing in my mouth for god only knows how long, possibly through a large portion of my meal.  Thank goodness I hadn’t swallowed it, as that would have required medical attention due to major internal bleeding and intestinal problems.

I took the claw out of my mouth silently, without alerting Gavin.  I waited until after our meal was finished to tell Gavin of my mini panic-attack and my decision to swear off Pho Ga for the rest of my life.

A Guide to My Purse

When heading out into Saigon for a quick lunch, workday, or night out on the town, there are a few staples that you must bring with you.

Tissues.  I prefer Pulppy brand of tissue pouches. There are many uses for these tissues.  When eating hot soup, your nose inevitably runs, therefore you have to wipe or blow it several times throughout the meal.  Napkins usually come in moist form and there is only one per a person delivered to a table.  I like to use them after the meal to clean up my hands because keeping one on your lap leaves an unsightly wet spot.   Tissue is also needed when going to the bathroom.  Most Bathrooms at restaurants or bars don’t have much in the way of toilet paper.  Sometimes a wet half roll is available for use, but when it comes to my unmentionables, I like to know the TP is clean, thus your tissue pack comes in handy!

A face mask.  Face masks are for sale on every corner of the street, they come in every color of pattern you could possible want.  Mine is pink, but plaid is big here as well as the surgical masks you may remember from the Bird Flu scare some years back.  Your face mask is the only think protecting you from the fumes of traffic.  Weather they actually work or not is still up for debate; however, you feel a bit healthier if you have one on.

Antacids.  Gavin and I have an assortment of different antacids in my bag.  These are necessary after a… uh-hum…interesting meal.  We have a chalky, hardly palatable Vietnamese brand if the gastrointestinal burn is minimal, Tums for those dishes laden with spice, and Pepto-Bismol for those increasingly rarer times of dangerously tumultuous tummy.  Epicurean Russian Roulette - you never know what meal is going to kill you…or at least leave you sitting on the toilet the next day.

A map (or at least clear directions to where you are headed).  The streets here all have gone through many name changes and there are a lot of little alley ways.  It is easy to get confused.  And don’t trust Google Maps, ask someone for directions instead and have then spell out the names of the streets for you.  Otherwise you’re lost and frustrated and American.  We love the half dozen or so French streets that are still remaining.  Pasteur is a lot easier name to remember than Nguyen Thi Minh Khai.

A written list of key Vietnamese phrases.  It’s a different language, which means there is a 0% chance of me gaining mild fluency.  It’s almost impossible to speak if you don’t know what you’re doing.  If you have something important to say (e.g. I’m allergic to _____.) write it down and show it to someone.

My trusty menu.  I took a menu from The Golden Flower, a Vietnamese restaurant in Reno, to help me out here.  It has the Vietnamese transliteration for everything and is fairly comprehensive.  It has come to our aid on a few occasions thus far.

Bug spray.  Weather you put it on before you leave the house or bring some sort of ointment to soothe post-bite itches, you need something.  We’ll go days without a bite, then get attacked at a certain place.  It’s like death, you never know when or where it will happen, so be prepared.

BBQ

Recently, Gavin and I took a trip outside the city center to enjoy the countryside and visit some creatures at a wildlife rescue center.  Right when our backsides were starting to fall asleep after nearly two hours on our motor scooter, we came across a packed BBQ stand.  As we pulled up and parked our hog in the squishy roadside mud, the local crowd stared quizzically at us as though we were the first foreigners to have crossed the boundary into their sleepy hamlet, let alone dined at their restaurant. (In actuality, hundreds of tourists pass through daily on their way to the Cu Chi Tunnels).  The restaurant was more a series of shacks sheltered by army-issue tents than an actual structure.  The metal tables were scuffed and filthy, the ground was littered with trash, and there were rolls of toilet paper on the tables rather than napkins. Are they for wiping your hands off post-meal or for the instantaneous roadside shits you get after eating there?  

However, the food smelled and looked amazing.  There was a little old gal out front barbecuing pork and chicken to perfection and the sweet smoke filled the air.  We each ordered the pork, or rather pointed at it and grunted affirmatively.  We were delighted by what we received.

 Our spread comprised of a pile of rice, a thin and tender pork chop, fresh veggies, chili fish sauce, and a cup of zucchini soup.  The pork was perfectly prepared and could be easily cut with a spoon and fork (I haven’t seen a knife on a table since we’ve been here).  Savory, simple, and delicious.

Pham Ngu Lao

Last night I overindulged in my favorite street food in Vietnam.  I had a craving so strong that, despite the rain,  we immediately hopped on our bike and raced into the heart of the city to one of the bars on the Pham Ngu Lao.  I don't have a clue what the bar is actually called, but some of the colorful locals refer to it as Assport due to a long forgotten letter on a nearby storefront's sign.  We have been there a few times.  My favorite part about the otherwise dreary spot  is the table placement.  A long row of tables line the outside walls of the place.  The aforementioned tables offer great views of bleary-eyed tourists, waddling tortoise backpackers, grimy ex-pats and street vendors selling their various wares.  The vendors walk directly up to your table - an exertion free experience .  Inevitably, some of the more aggressive types can be a bit annoying (the book sellers with their precarious stacks of airport reads and the gents pushing knock-off sunglasses come to mind), but most of those dissipate as the night begins and are replaced by my beloved food vendors.  These women can readily supply all of your atypical late night cravings: pomegranates, unripe mangoes, both dry-roasted and steamed peanuts, rice rolls, shrimp cakes and my favorite of all - hard boiled quail eggs.

For a mere 5,000 VND (about 25 cents) you can have six of your very own eggs with a small packet of salty seasoning for accompaniment.  When we arrived at Assport, I kept my eyes peeled for the right vendor.  I literally was dying for some quail eggs.  Unfortunately, due to the ever-present drizzle, they were few and far between.  The bony, sad man that sells boneless, dried squid from his bicycle passed a few times before one of my gals finally hit the block.  She had a large basket under one of her arms and a traditional sedge hat.  I beckoned her to the table to have a look at her wares.  I bought a packet of eggs and we savored each one!

Unfortunately, one packet never lasts long between two big eaters like Gavin and I, so the search began again.  Sure enough another gal came by, only this one was well-equipped and had giant chips as well.

We bought a few more bags of quail eggs, a monstrous chip, and a bag of steamed peanuts to enjoy.  It was the best meal anyone could ask for!

A Life in Pictures

These are a few pictures I have been meaning to post that we have taken over the past week.

A monkey in a tree.

Traffic.

A mango as big as my face.

A mighty river seeping through the countryside.