Jan 2008

Running with Xôi

Sticky Business – clockwise from top left – xôi đậu đen, xôi đậu xanh, xôi vò, xôi nếp than

While living in Vietnam, I’ve developed a deep appreciation nearing on obsession for xôi (sticky rice). I’ve previously discussed my passion for the stuff here, here, here, here and here.

Xôi is cheap, filling, sweet or savory, and really easy to carry while running, which is absolutely essential because that’s the way I roll.

There are two vendors located on Ton That Thuyet Street that I usually frequent. One is a little skimpy with her portions, while the other is muy generoso. I visit the generoso one more often, but on her rest days, I buy from the stingier one. For as little as 2,000 VND, I’m set until lunchtime. Score!

My current favorite is xôi vò—sticky rice with coconut milk, sugar and mung beans. It’s so good, I don’t even miss cereal.

I purchased the other three varieties to spice things up a bit, but they were too bland to rank high.

The xôi đậu đen (sticky rice with black beans) and xôi đậu xanh (sticky rice with whole mung beans), while both high in fiber, were really boring. They needed a lot more oomph than what the bland shredded coconut provided.

The xôi nếp than (black sticky rice) was smeared with mung bean paste, sprinkled with sesame seeds and salt, and came with a baggie of sweet coconut milk. The jury is still out on xôi nếp than because I ate it without the coconut milk and therefore, the chef’s vision was incomplete.

I still need to try xôi đậu phộng, but after that, I think I’m tapped out of new xôi to try. Say it ain’t so!

Jan 2008

Dried Persimmons

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I first spied dried persimmons for sale on my morning run along Ton That Thuyet Street in District 4 in mid-December. The persimmons were piled high upon a wooden cart and sold alongside various fresh fruits and vegetables.

As soon as I returned from my two week stay in California, I bought 10,000 VND worth, which equaled six slices.

Persimmons respond very well to being dried and retain much of their sweetness and a good bit of moisture. The individual slices are coated in a powdered sugar mixture that acts as a preservative in addition to providing extra sweetness.

I asked the vendor how dried persimmons were made, but she had no clue because she was merely a middleman. Doh!

Whenever I eat dried fruits, I usually compensate for their lack of density by consuming more. However, this is not the case with dried persimmons because these babies are filling; one or two slices is more than enough.

I think that these taste best after they’ve chilled in the refrigerator for a while. Come to think of it, everything tastes better cold in this tropical land.

Jan 2008

Rock 'n' Roll Fuel

One of the best parts of working at the Saigon Times is editing articles about various events going on around town. Last Thursday night, The Astronomer and I headed to a heavy metal show in District 1 that I learned about through my work at the paper.

The music was seriously terrible (see evidence below), but it was awesome seeing Vietnamese boys sporting long hair, drinking Heinekens and head-banging to the awful beat. They reminded me of my cousin Jimmy.

Prior to the show, The Astronomer and I wandered the streets surrounding the concert venue in search of dinner. I picked up a bánh mì thịt (7,000 VND) and a bánh giầy (3,000 VND).

The bánh mì thịt was smeared with pate, packed with cold cuts and topped with cucumber spears, cilantro and pickled carrots and daikon. The sandwich was decent, but a wee bit overpriced. I guess that’s what happens when I eat in District 1 with a white boy by my side. Sigh…

The bánh giầy was tiny in size, but mighty in the taste department. This is the first time that I have seen it sold street-side and even though I was already full, I just had to have one! In retrospect, I should have forgone the sandwich and had two or three bánh giầy instead.

Bánh giầy is a sticky number. It is comprised of a piece of cha (pork force meat) snuggled in between two circular cakes made with a combination of glutinous (bột nếp) and rice flour (bột gạo). The cakes are tasteless and doughy, but in a good way, while the cha brings salty and meaty goodness to the table. The bánh giầy are wrapped up in banana leaves to keep eaters’ fingers clean and to keep the individual cakes from adhering to one another.

Bánh giầy—think of them as Vietnamese Lunchables.