Monthly Archive for March, 2008

Augustin – Ho Chi Minh City

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March 14, 2008
Cuisine: French

10 Nguyen Thiep Street
District 1, Ho Chi Minh City

Phone: 8292941
Website:

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Duck terrine with green pepper (70,000 VND)

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Salad with smoked duck, jambon, egg and pate (75,000 VND)

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Grilled sea bass filet with cream, lemon, and ginger sauce (85,000 VND)

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Duck with orange sauce (105,000 VND)

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Chocolate soufflé (85,000 VND)

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Grand Marnier soufflé (85,000 VND)

When I first arrived in Saigon, I shunned at the idea of eating anything other than Vietnamese food. As I gradually started viewing Saigon as a metropolitan city rather than just the motherland, the idea of eating an ethnically varied diet seemed less contrived and more appealing.

Sensing my change in mind-set, The Astronomer gave me a series of non-Vietnamese dinners for my birthday. My first dinner was at Meric in Siem Reap, Cambodia. My second fish sauce-less outing was at a classic French restaurant in Saigon called Augustin.

Stepping into Augustin reminded me of the restaurants I used to frequent back East. Hardly larger than a shoebox, the tables at Augustin are set so close to one another that we had to awkwardly interrupt the couple next to us to request anything from the waiters.

After we placed our orders, a basket of warm French bread along with a slab of soft butter arrived at our table. Vietnamese baguettes are perfectly good, but bread with substantial innards are so much more satisfying, especially with a smear of high-quality butter.

For my appetizer, I ordered a “salad with smoked duck, jambon, egg and pate.” I was expecting a frisee salad of sorts with a runny egg and ducky accents, but what I received was a pile of forcemeats with slices of tomatoes, wedges of hard boiled eggs, and a few pieces of vinegary iceberg lettuce. Since when does a mound of cold cuts constitute a salad? The spicy slices of pepperoni were the highlight of a rather disappointing starter.

The Astronomer chose the “duck terrine with green pepper” at my request for his appetizer. I read a lot about terrines in Michael Ruhlman‘s chef series and have wanted to taste one since then. The duck terrine, which was served with slices of tomatoes, iceberg lettuce and pickled gherkins, turned out to be nothing more than pate. Sadly, it was the same pate as the one served on my salad. I can’t say where this terrine ranked since it was my first, but it struck me as a bit dry and too mild.

Two swings. Two misses.

Things started looking up when The Astronomer’s grilled sea bass filet with cream, lemon, and ginger sauce arrived. Although too rich for my taste, the dish was exactly what The Astronomer wanted this evening. The filet was served with steamed green beans, carrots and potatoes.

Just as things were starting to go swimmingly, my duck with orange sauce arrived way overcooked—we’re talking rubbery meat territory. For the first time in my dining career, I sent a dish back to the kitchen. The waitress explained to me that the locally raised duck had to be cooked thoroughly due to the risk of bird flu. Although probably not the smartest decision I’ve ever made, I asked that the chef please prepare the duck rare.

My second duck with orange sauce arrived perfectly rare and succulent as can be. The Astronomer and I ooh’d and ah’d as we smothered the tender meat in a citrus bath and brought it to our mouths. We both agreed that if we did contract bird flu, this was a great way to go. The duck was served with some bland carrots, green beans and frites.

For dessert, The Astronomer and I indulged in the dreamiest chocolate soufflé ever. The edges of the soufflé were gorgeously caramelized, while the insides were velvety smooth and unbelievably light and airy. Usually chocolate desserts leave me thirsty and hyper, but this one was subtly decadent.

The soufflé was so extraordinary that we returned two weeks later to sample the Grand Marnier version. With just a touch of orange liquor, the Grand Marnier soufflé was just as good as the chocolate one.

Keep Your Cool

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It’s bloody hot in Saigon.

The dry-season is in full swing and the days of motorbiking in the rain while donning ponchos are now a distant memory.

Unlike most foreigners, I love the heat. It’s probably the product of my Saigon genes and SoCal upbringing. And even though it’s already suitably warm right now, temperatures will likely continue to soar until June. I hope I don’t melt.

On those occasions when a cool wet-nap just isn’t enough to keep the heat at bay, here are ten truly local delights to keep from going bananas during the long months before the rains return:

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1. Sinh To is Vietnam’s take on the western smoothie. Fresh fruits such as mangoes (xoai), soursops (mang cau xiem), papayas (du du), pineapples (thom) and avocados (bo) are blended with sugar, crushed ice and sweetened condensed milk until smooth and frothy. A serving of sinh to is an easy way to get a healthy dose of fruit while sipping the afternoon away. Depending on the market price of raw materials, a glass of sinh to ranges from 8,000-15,000 VND.

2. Che Nhan is made from nhan (dried longans) and suong sa (agar jelly) and served in a tall glass over ice. Although not the prettiest che on the block, it certainly has its merits. Che nhan‘s cool liquid tastes like a soda-less cream soda with hints of vanilla, while the jelly’s playful crinkly texture reminds one to take it easy or risk a stroke. Che nhan can be purchased from most che vendors for 2,000-6,000 VND per serving.

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3. Rau Ma (pennywort juice) is definitely not for everyone (myself included), but word on the street is that this green chlorophyll-intensive liquid is like coolant for the soul. At 2,000 VND a glass, everyone should take a swig at least once.

4. Unlike its ugly stepsister rau ma, Nuoc Mia (sugarcane juice) is not an acquired taste. Made from freshly pressed sugarcane with a squeeze of trai hanh (sour citrus fruit), nuoc mia is the next best thing to a headfirst plunge into a swimming pool. A cup (or bag) of nuoc mia on ice can be procured at numerous roadside stands around town for 2,500 VND.

5. There’s nothing like chilled Trai Cay (fresh fruit) on a hot day. Saigon’s proximity to the fertile Mekong Delta makes it possible for city residents to enjoy an abundance of wonderfully delicious and inexpensive fruits year round. From mangoes to custard apples to papayas and bananas, the possibilities are endlessly satisfying. Fruit vendors on every other block makes it possible to indulge in a plethora of trai cay without having to bother with slicing and dicing. For a little kick, try dipping tart fruits in a little chili salt.

6. Kem Trai Dua is served at a number of ice cream parlors around the city, but the best rendition is at Con Truong, located on the corner of Vo Van Tan Street and Pham Ngoc Thach Street in District 1. Sorbet-like coconut ice cream is served inside a fresh young coconut and adorned with crushed peanuts, dried bananas, pineapple preserves, and topped with a dried plum “cherry.” Chilled coconut juice is served on the side. Kem dua brings a taste of the tropics to a bustling and chaotic city. Priced at 24,000VND a pop, this “pricey” frozen treat is worth every dong.

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7. After bia (beer), Ca Phe Sua Da is probably Vietnam’s next most popular beverage. This classic Vietnamese drink is comprised of freshly brewed Robusta coffee sweetened with condensed milk and served on ice. The end result is a cold and creamy caffeine jolt. Pull up a stool at any of the beverage carts strewn around town for a cup of ca phe sua da and expect to pay somewhere between 5,000-6,000VND.

8. Nuoc Ep is a general term for fruit and vegetable juice. My two favorite drinks in this genre are winter melon (bi dao) and passion fruit (chanh day). While winter melons are a gorgeous mint green, their juice is strangely black. Served over ice, this dark liquid is a unique thirst quencher. Passion fruit juice is made to order, bright tangerine in color, and sweet and tart in all the right places. Winter melon juice goes for 2,000VND a glass, while passion fruit costs 6,000VND.

9. Hacked to order, Trai Dua (fresh young coconut) is a self-contained drink and snack in one. First, sip the cool coconut juice through a straw. Then ask the vendor to chop off the top, and eat the white flesh with a spoon.

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10. I often refer to Thach as Vietnamese JELLO due to its similar texture. The light dessert is made from water, sugar, agar agar and a variety of flavorings including coconut milk, coffee and pandan leaves. Thach oftentimes contains a number of different layers and flavors, but when eaten together, I find it impossible to differentiate pandan from coffee from coconut. To me, it just tastes sweet, refreshing and gelatin-y. Thach can be purchased from ladies pushing glass cases filled with small bowls on giant blocks of ice for 2,000-3000VND a serving.

Eating in Hanoi II

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When visiting Hanoi, my primary culinary objective is to sample my favorite northern Vietnamese dishes in the land of their creation or, better yet, try something I’ve never seen or even heard of in the south. The first meal of my latest visit was a late lunch. I was absolutely starving after an hour plus run and no food since 8 a.m., so when my intended destination turned out to be a tourist trap, I blindly stumbled into a wanton soup eatery. The place was basically empty, but it was definitely not peak hours, and I justified my choice to myself in light of the above rule by noting that wantons and dumplings are a Chinese import, and Hanoi is a lot closer to China than Saigon.

I was also intrigued by the northern spelling of wonton: van than instead of hoan thanh. Nevertheless, I ended up ordering sui cao my. I found it rather disappointing—the sui cao themselves were good, with nice peppery seasoning, but I was only given three. Bland slices of pork made up the majority of the meat in the dish, and the broth was nothing special. Sadly, it seems my judgment was clouded by hunger when I chose this place.

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Fortunately, I was more than ready to seek redemption in the form of a second course. I headed for a mien luon spot recommended by my Rough Guide tour book (as noted previously, their Hanoi street eats section is surprisingly insightful). I ordered the mien nuoc—thin glass noodles and crispy mini eels in a broth with fried shallots, bean sprouts, and scallions. Now this was the sort of eating experience I was looking for—I’m not sure whether this dish is even of northern origin, but it was certainly different than anything I had eaten before, and pretty darn delicious. The broth reminded me of a good hu tieu mi—sweet and salty and crying out to be drank when the noodles were gone. The dried eels were interesting—kind of like the fish-skin chips The Gastronomer and I sampled once at the Chinatown business expo. I had expected little pieces of big eel in the soup, but these were entire animals I was gulping down—the eel equivalent of the dried mini-shrimps used in xoi man.

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Dinner found me wandering again, but this time at a more thoughtful pace. I found a winner in Nguyen Huu Huan Street. First I stopped at a massive sticky rice establishment. The Gastronomer has tried quite a few varieties of xoi on Ton That Thuyet Street, but this was a whole different story—it seems the northerners take their xoi pretty seriously. Slightly overwhelmed, I glanced around at what people were eating before pointing at some sort of loaf and saying, “sin cho toi mot to xoi cha.” As it turned out, xoi cha (or at least this variety—there were definitely several kinds available) consisted of yellow sticky rice topped with shreds of hardened mung bean paste, fried shallots, and the cha itself. I made little progress discerning what the loaf was made of, but it was a bit chewy and surprisingly sweet. I don’t usually love sweet xoi, but the ingredients of this one melded perfectly. I almost ordered another bowl, but another stall down the street was calling my name (“Astronomer, Astronomer…!”).

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This one was run by a father and his three sons and served a mostly male clientele. On display were a number of pastries deep fried to order; I decided it was time to sample another banh goi. The pastry itself was similar to the first banh goi I tried, but the components were more evenly distributed inside, and the spicy dipping sauce, which looked remarkably similar to the broth for bun cha but tasted entirely different, was a welcome addition.

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I also ordered a plate of pho cuon. When they came out, I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to dip them in the same sauce, but I decided to go for it. No one stopped me, and they went together wonderfully. When The Gastronomer and I tried pho cuon down south we were underwhelmed, but these were really spectacular. Filled with plenty of ground beef and copious mint leaves, they were quite tasty without the sauce and even better with it. I’ll definitely have to return for more.

I capped off my dinner with a couple of pastries from one of the small French-influenced bakeries that are everywhere in Hanoi. The chocolate tart turned out to contain coffee, which was a disappointment, but the lemon tart (R) was awesome.

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Day two began with an ultra-simple breakfast of bread and jam at the Prince II hotel. The baguette was one of the best I’ve had in Vietnam, with a soft crust and substantial exterior. Afterwards, I was still a bit hungry, so I bought a chocolate-filled pastry from a street vendor. I bargained the price down from 10,000 VND to 5,000 and then made the purchase despite knowing that I should have paid no more than 3,000. She aggressively tried to sell me additional pastries and even a trip to Ha Long Bay, but I declined. When I got back to my room and took a bite of the pastry, I found that there was in fact nothing inside. I hate being a tourist.

Despite my previous resolution to try something new every meal, when lunchtime rolled around I was really in the mood for some bun cha. I checked out Dac Kim on Hang Manh Street, recommended by Wandering Chopsticks and advertised as Hanoi’s most famous bun cha restaurant in the Rough Guide, but it was closed. Perhaps 1:15 in the afternoon was too late? Luckily, I was only a few blocks away from Dac Kim II, and I couldn’t resist going back (side note: I’m not sure if one of these restaurants copied the other, or if they actually have the same owners. I walked by a third Bun Cha Dac Kim in the Old Quarter the day before. Oh well, if they’re all good, what does it matter?). The nem cua be were even better than I remembered them, and the bun cha was also satisfying, although I felt like I received an inferior ratio of juicy sausages to chewy meat strips this time.

All in all, another successful business trip to Hanoi. Next time I look forward to trying pho xao, northern banh cuon, and maybe some barbecued bird.

Eating in Hanoi I

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After living in Vietnam for over 7 months without traveling north of Hue, I finally made it to Hanoi recently for a business trip. With no appointments on my first day, I was free to tour the city and sample some northern cuisine straight from the source. Overall the trip was a pleasure, even though I was annoyed by the constant pestering by cyclo drivers, travel book vendors, and sunglass sellers in the Old Quarter.

The city’s collection of lakes and copious (relatively speaking) green space were a breath of fresh air, and I found it surprisingly easy to converse with the locals, despite their ‘zzz’-laden accents. Maybe Rosetta Stone Tieng Viet was a worthwhile endeavor after all.

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When I arrived at the hotel, my room wasn’t ready yet, so there was nothing to do but go ahead and start eating. My first destination was a banh goi vendor recommended by gas•tron•o•my reader Wandering Chopsticks (and also, amazingly, my Rough Guide tour book. The Rough Guide’s section on street kitchens in Hanoi is a gem—I’ve never seen anything so useful in a mainstream guidebook). I had no trouble finding the stall with a variety of deep-fried treats. I wanted to try them all, but I had already planned to follow-up the snack with a lunch of bun cha, so I limited myself to a single banh goi.

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The first two bites were amazing—hot out of the frying oil, the flaky exterior melded wonderfully with the fatty meat inside. Banh goi are similar in appearance to empanadas, Cornish pasties, and the southern Vietnamese banh xep, and for a blissful minute I thought it was better than any of these. I loved the onions mixed in with the meat—something banh xep lacks. Unfortunately, my third bite was nearly entirely mushrooms. Unlike The Gastronomer, I am simply not a mushroom fan, so the powerful taste was an unpleasant surprise. The rest of the banh goi had an even mix of meat and fungi, but in the final analysis I’d have to rank it slightly below banh xep.

When I was almost done eating, I saw a couple nearby dipping their banh goi in some sort of sauce. I’m not sure why I didn’t get any—maybe it’s considered too pungent for a white man? In any case, I’ll have to get some next time I head up north.

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Next up was Bun Cha Nem Cua Be Dac Kim (67 Duong Thanh St.), which was recommended by another reader, Teddy. Bun cha is one of my favorite dishes in HCMC, so I was stoked to try the original version. The two are relatively similar in style, but northerners don’t bother to mess around with a second bowl. Instead, they add their noodles and greens bit-by-bit to the meat and sauce. I tried this eating method once in Saigon and found it cumbersome, but it was much easier at Dac Kim because the bowl of pork patties was HUGE—probably three times more meat than a typical southern portion. The vinegary broth, with significantly more spices and nuanced flavor, was terrific. I think it’s safe to say that this was the best bun cha I’ve ever had.

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Even though I generally prefer pork to seafood in fried spring rolls, I felt obligated to try one of the nem cua be. And I was glad I did. The nem was wonderfully crispy on the outside and filled with large, loosely packed pieces of crab. It wasn’t cha gio, but it was damn good. If I hadn’t been so full, I would have gladly paid 7,000 VND for another.

Even after an hour-long run through the city parks, I was still totally stuffed from lunch and could only manage a light bowl of pho bo for dinner. I stumbled upon a random stall about a block from my hotel and decided it looked as good as any. The pho was solid—much better than the watery versions of pho bac I’ve had in Saigon—but it didn’t stand out as an all-time favorite. It was a nice feeling to be slurping down a noodle soup on a cool evening, away from the endless scorching summer of the south. Apologies for the lack of pictures—my camera goes to bed early.

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By lunchtime the next day, I was ready to feast again. I couldn’t leave town without trying cha ca, perhaps northern Vietnam’s favorite dish, so I followed the Rough Guide’s recommendation to Cha Ca Thanh Long at 31 Duong Thanh Street. I didn’t really know what to expect, but I was quite impressed. The cha ca experience is much like hot pot—a rollicking meal cooked on the dinner table and shared with friends over a few beers. As such, it didn’t quite feel right eating by myself, but I still couldn’t help enjoying the meal.

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Herbs, particularly dill, play a major role in the dish. They are simmered along with the fish patties (cha ca) and scallions in a well-oiled skillet on the table, and diners reach in with their chopsticks and grab a few pieces to add to their bowl of bun. Thanh Long’s excellent nuoc mam was the perfect addition to each bowl. It all made for a classic eating experience, and I left Hanoi totally satisfied.

Vegetation Profile: Rau Muống

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Ipomoea aquatica is a semi-aquatic tropical plant grown as a leaf vegetable. Its precise natural distribution is unknown due to extensive cultivation, with the species found throughout the tropical and subtropical regions of the world.

Common names include water spinach, swamp cabbage, water convolvulus, water morning-glory, kangkung (Indonesian, Malay), kangkong (Tagalog), tangkong (Cebuano), kang kung (Sinhalese), pak boong (in Thai: ผักบุ้ง) (Thai), rau muống (Vietnamese), kongxincai (Chinese: 空心菜; pinyin: kōngxīncài; literally “hollow heart vegetable”), home sum choy (Hakka), and ong choy or tung choi (Cantonese pronunciation of 蕹菜, ngônkcôi; pinyin: wéngcài).

Ipomoea aquatica grows in water or on moist soil. Its stems are 2-3 m or more long, hollow, allowing them to float, and these root at the nodes. The leaves vary from sagittate (typical) to lanceolate, 5-15 cm long and 2-8 cm broad. The flowers are trumpet-shaped, 3-5 cm diameter, usually white in color.

In Vietnam, it once served as a staple vegetable of the poor (known as rau muống). In the south, the stems are julienned into thin strips and eaten with many kinds of noodles, and used as a garnish as well. Over the course of time, Ipomoea aquatica has developed into being an ingredient for many daily vegetable dishes of Vietnamese cuisine as a whole. Rau muống is one of the tastes that remind Vietnamese people of their simple and peaceful rural hometown life.

If Vietnam were to declare an official vegetable, I have no doubt that it would be rau muống. Rau muống is served in homes and restaurants across the country and unlike your average nutritious green, this one has no trace of bitterness.

The most popular preparation of rau muống involves boiling them until softened and then sauteeing them in oil and copious amounts of garlic (rau muống xào tỏi). With a squeeze of lemon juice and the addition of tomatoes, the water that the rau muống is boiled in can be served as a bland, but passable soup.

Another reason why rau muống is so popular is because it’s seriously dirt cheap. For 1,000 VND, I took home a huge bundle that was more than enough for two meals.

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