Archive for the 'Street Food' Category

Nui Xào Bò - Stir-fried Pasta with Beef

IMG_0914

It’s more or less common knowledge that the French introduced baguettes to the Vietnamese during the colonial era, but a lesser know French culinary influence are Western-style noodles like spaghetti, penne and macaroni. Known as nui in Vietnamese, the word is derived from the French nouille.

Growing up, whenever mom or grandma prepared steaks or chops, the juicy slabs of meat were always accompanied by noodles (most often spaghetti) rather than rice. Sometimes the noodles were simply stir-fried with garlic, butter, pepper and soy sauce, and other times they were cooked a bit more elaborately with onions and tomato paste. My grandma also like to slip some star-shaped pasta into her chicken and beef soups.

IMG_0917

The major difference between pasta as we know it and Vietnamese nui is the employment of rice flour in the latter, because semolina isn’t native to Vietnam. Italian brands of pasta like Barilla are available in most of Saigon’s grocery stores, but their prices are often three times higher than locally produced nui.

The lovely plate of nui xao bo pictured here was made by the Lunch Lady’s younger sister, who works under the same shady tree. The noodles were sauteed with thin slices of beef and thick slices of onions in oil, fish sauce and a smidgen of tomato paste. Side items included fresh tomatoes, iceberg lettuce and a condiment-sized bowl of soy sauce.

The Astronomer and I encountered nui dishes most often at venues serving mi xao don (crispy noodles with gravy). We also encountered nui combined with fried eggs at a snack shack on Ky Dong. Personally, I like to prepare nui with eggs and pork floss. Flossy flossy indeed.

Bánh Xu Xê

An alien’s breast implant or a Vietnamese dessert? If you guessed the former, you’ve got a wicked sense of humor, but are unfortunately incorrect. What you’re looking at is banh xu xe—a Vietnamese sweet with a jelly-like texture made of tapioca flour, pandan, mung bean paste, sugar, sesame seeds and coconut milk.

This one time, I left a banh xu xe in my messenger bag unknowingly for over a week and as a result, it grew fuzzy with mold. The day I discovered it at the bottom of my bag, I asked my colleague Chris at the AsiaLIFE office if I could please pelt him with it. Believe it or not, he said yes. I wound up softball-style and pitched it at him with all of my might. As anticipated, the banh xu xe exploded upon contact! God, it feels so good being a small child sometimes.

The bottom line—banh xu xe are interesting to look at, but lack substance and flavor. At 1,000 VND a piece, I suggest you buy a dozen and pelt them at your friends to show them how much you care. To satisfy that pandan-flavored, jelly-textured, mung bean-filled craving, eat banh da lon.

Bún Thịt Nướng & Mít Luộc

 

Between The Astronomer and I, we probably ate close to fifty bowls of bun thit nuong—rice vermicelli noodles topped with grilled pork, pickled vegetables and nuoc mam—during our year in Vietnam. While I’ve always loved this dish, I learned to appreciate it even more in Saigon thanks to the hot and sticky weather. When the temperature is soaring and my knees are sweating, a noodle dish without a scalding hot broth does wonders for the psyche.

Our final bowls of bun thit nuong in the city were carefully crafted by the one, the only—Lunch Lady. Although we’ve eaten lots of her noodle offerings, we never tried her bun thit nuong  because she only makes this dish on Sundays—a day I steer clear of the AsiaLIFE office. But since our days in town were winding down, and we thought it would be a pity to leave Saigon without trying each and every one of the Lunch Lady’s offerings, we made our way to the shady spot under the tree one Sunday afternoon.  

I ordered one bowl with the “the works,” while The Astronomer went for two of the same. Each bowl of cool noodles came smothered in scallion oil and adorned with freshly fried cha gio (cut into small pieces using scissors, of course), pickled carrots and daikon, crushed peanuts, crispy scallions and generous hunks of grilled pork. Nouc mam was served in a small bowl on the side.

What’s unique about the Lunch Lady’s version of bun thit nuong is the addition of mit luoc—boiled green jackfruit. The jackfruit tasted a bit sour, and a lot bland. Even mixed in with some nuoc mam and noodles, I didn’t think the jackfruit added anything to the already solid bowl of bun thit nuong. I prefer my boiled jackfruit in goi (salad) form. Goi mit is bomb. Tia Nguyen has a sweet looking recipe for a jackfruit salad here.

Coconut Waffles

Pop quiz, hot shot. What’s the most popular street food sold in Saigon’s city center (i.e. the area around the Opera House, Central Post Office and Reunification Palace)? No, it’s not pho or nuoc mia (sugarcane juice). It’s coconut waffles! Heart-shaped coconut waffles to be exact.

While banh mi vendors dominate the street food scene outside the central part of town, ladies making coconut waffles are all the rage along the city’s touristy thoroughfares of Le Loi, Dong Khoi and Nguyen Thi Minh Khai. I’m not sure how this trend came about, but I’d venture to guess that coconut waffles are highly profitable foodstuffs because they’re so tourist-friendly. I mean, they look just like Western waffles and have an easy-going sweetness that appeals to everyone.

The waffle batter, which is comprised of rice flour, water, coconut milk, sugar, oil and eggs, is usually made by the vendor prior to setting up shop. Vendors use cast iron molds that cook over a charcoal brazier to make each and every waffle. Can you hear the sizzle of the batter hitting the hot iron? Waffles are sold hot-off-the-mold or in pre-assembled packages of ten. Since waffles are most readily available in the touristy part of town, make sure to bargain! 6,000 VND for a bag of ten is a good deal.

Unlike the slightly cakey waffles we’re used to in the West, these Vietnamese waffles are paper-thin and wafer-like. There’s no maple syrup or pat of butter required because the batter already contains a good amount of sugar. It’s best to eat them with your bare hands because the texture is very delicate. In fact, they easily dissolve on one’s tongue. Andrea Nguyen of Viet World Kitchen has a recipe for coconut waffles if you’re interested in recreating the magic of Saigon street food in your very own home.

I’m Just Not That Into You

When I first started gas•tron•o•my, I blogged each meal and recipe in chronological order. Although I’m not a scientist, I admittedly like things neat and orderly—just take a look at my CD rack. I kept up this ‘eat then write’ routine for quite a while, but it all came to an end when I began penning food reviews for a magazine and couldn’t publish on gas•tron•o•my until the piece was published in hard copy form. Now that posts are completely out of order, to decide what to write about each day, I scan my pictures and pick out something that strikes my fancy.

This post is dedicated to all the foods that I have neglected and passed over for months on end. The one quality that all of these foods share is that they’re not great. In a sea of amazing Saigon eats, it’s tough being only so-so.

First up, xoi chien—this late night bite dates back to February. Xoi chien, which goes for 1,000 VND a piece, is comprised of rounds of sticky rice (xoi) fried (chien) to a crisp and stuffed with a beef and mushroom mixture. If this sounds like your kinda thing, check out CMT8 after the sun has gone down.

I don’t remember what the exact name of this dessert is, but it had the words “che” and “dau hu” (tofu) in it. I am mad for sweet tofu with ginger, but this stuff tasted like chunky sweetened soy milk with way too much ice. The copious amount of ice really ruined a fabulous soy party. Binh Thanh District was the site of this soy mess.

This is another one of Binh Thanh’s meh offerings. The green layers of the cake are made of sticky pandan flavored tapioca that’s similar to banh da lon, while the yellow layers are plain cake. The entire creation is sprinkled with coconut flakes. There was nothing intrinsically terrible about this dessert, it just struck me as dry and not very flavorful. Yawn-city.

We purchased these Japanese Kaitenyaki in District 3. Unlike the ones we tried in Thailand that were filled with custard and taro paste, these ones were filled mostly with shredded coconut. Once again, too many dry ingredients paired together, and not enough oomph!

IMG_8093

I bought this little ice cream cone impulsively on a super-hot day in District 4 on Ton That Thuyet Street. It tasted sweet, funny and not much else. Although I like having funny friends, I cannot appreciate funny ice cream in the same way. For really super fantastic ice cream, visit Cong Truong for their kem trai dua.

After gorging on dozens of delicious egg tarts in Hong Kong, The Astronomer was curious if the ones in Vietnam were any good. While picking up a couple of pastries for himself at Pham Nguyen Bakery, he grabbed an egg tart for me to try. The verdict? Lame crust, lamer filling. B+ for effort.

This is xoi vi. Cubular portions of sweet xoi sold at bakeries and by street vendors who go through a middle man to procure it. Other than its somewhat interesting shape, there’s nothing really special about xoi vi. My chief beef with xoi vi is that it costs twice as much as regular xoi. Boooo. Gimme back my dong.

While I love bo bia (fresh spring rolls stuffed with a jicama and carrot slaw, sweet Chinese sausages and scrabled eggs that’s dipped in hoisin sauce), I ain’t got no love for bo bia ngot—a sweet spin on the original comprised of coconut shavings, sugar sticks and sesame seeds. Bo bia ngot is too dry and could really benefit from a sauce. A sweet and salty coconut milk sauce would spruce bo bia ngot up nicely.

Examined alone, bun ca (vermicelli rice noodles in a tamarind and fish broth) is pretty darn awesome. The broth is tangy, while the hunks of fish are hearty and moist. But pitted against rock star noodle/broth combinations like bo kho, bun bo and mi ga tiem, it just pales in comparison. That’s pretty much the story with all of the above dishes—they’re good, but not great. And who wants good when you can have GR8? Not me.