Vietnam Food And Drink

Trendy kitchens from Los Angeles to London have recently gone Vietnamese in a major way. One wonders what took them so long. A tantalizing fusion of different ethnic cuisines, Vietnamese food has it all—the stir-fries and chopsticks of China alongside the consommés of France. Rice, a major national export, gets plenty of face-time on Vietnamese tables—incarnations include fried rice, steamed rice, rice noodles, and rice paper. A mouthwatering range of flavors and seasonings is a national hallmark. Delicious spices and sauces, running the gamut from subtle to overpowering, annihilate all rice-induced monotony.

If you enjoy the point-and-eat method of choosing your food, Vietnam was made for you. Meals are often comprised of a number of smaller dishes served together, from which you can pick and choose; even though you may not know the name or even the primary ingredients, it’s difficult to go wrong. Vegetarians, of course, may need to do additional research, as meats and fish are more often than not a part of the preparation. Learn the phrase “T®i n chay” (“I’m a vegetarian”) and be persistent. Buddhist influence renders the country relatively amenable to meatless alternatives, particularly during religious festivals on the first or 15th of each month, and especially in the center of the country. But even meat-lovers should beware that they may encounter some unusual meats on the market—bear, camel, cat, dog, monkey, snake, swan, and tiger are among the options available. And we promise not to mention some of Vietnam’s more unusual ingredients that often find their way into some of the country’s more specialized dishes, including mole blood, cock and goat testicles, insect semen, and snake penis. We promise.

You haven’t had Vietnamese food until you’ve had ph. You also won’t have any problem finding it within a few hours of landing in Vietnam—the streets are practically paved with fast-food ph shops and street vendors. Morning is the most common time to have the wildly popular noodle soup, but the dish is eaten nationally all day long. Typically, it’s served with beef, and the broth is flavored with a multitude of mouth-watering herbs and animal bones, but you can find any number of renditions, from chicken to seafood to tofu.

Though it is widely considered a national icon, ph has actually been around only for the past 100 years or so. The exact history of this tasty noodle soup is uncertain, but the most popular belief is that ph originated in the northern part of the country, probably somewhere on the outskirts of Hà Nÿi. Ph was probably influenced by the French culinary tradition—the soup’s light broth is particularly similar to their consommé, and the use of beef itself may have been borrowed from the European tradition. Traditional ph in the north was simple—just rice noodles and a few bits of beef. After the 1954 Geneva Accords split the country in two, many northerners headed south to escape communism and brought with them their ph, which then met up with the flair and extravagance of southern cooking. In its new, rebellious incarnation, ph was spiced up with cilantro, basil, lime, chiles, and hoisin sauce; and new meats like chicken, meatballs, and tripe, were sometimes used in place of beef. While the northern purists may have been be horrified, both north and south agree on the importance of ph, a meal that has taken on meaning far beyond its soupy nature. Some argue that ph symbolizes Vietnam’s adoption of French and Chinese culture to form something entirely their own, something respected and enjoyed the world over. It’s one of the world’s few such symbols that’s both edible and delicious.

The up-and-coming fast-food option of choice in Vietnam today is c£m, a rice-based dish. C£m, like ph, is prepared in a number of fashions and with a number of ingredients, although the primary characteristic tends to be the grease dripping from the fried rice. Steamed rice-paper g¤i cu#n, or summer rolls (sometimes falsely, and confusingly, labeled “spring rolls”) await those who oppose the practice of frying. In some restaurants, you can even exercise your culinary prerogative and wrap your own summer rolls from a medley of meat, veggies, and herbs; elsewhere, the masters take care of it for you. If you want the fried version (the real spring rolls, alias egg rolls), just ask for ch= giò in the south or nem rán in the north; though you can also find it all wrapped up in lettuce (cu#n di_p). It will satisfy regardless.

Most homes don’t serve either ph or c£m—they can generally be found only on the streets. Usually, families share a large communal bowl of rice and a bowl of some kind of broth or soup. Meat and a few vegetables are piled on top of the rice. Soy and fish sauce are within reach. None of the more exotic meats, such as cat, dog, or snake, would typically be served in a home; those are mostly reserved for fancier restaurants, where they are still slightly uncommon.

On the other hand, there’s no set culinary protocol in Vietnam. What you eat depends on where you are, unless of course you’re far enough off the tourist track that ph may be the only option—which, admittedly, isn’t a terrible fate. In the north, a history of Chinese influence makes stir-fry a popular cooking technique and soy sauce a popular additive. As you move south, you’ll encounter a wider variety of herbs (thanks to the resource-rich Mekong Delta) and spicier, chili-based curries similar to those in Thailand, as well as the famous and odorous  fish sauce (n™øc m m). Central Vietnamese cooking is spicier, and perhaps more authentic, as it is less influenced by the Chinese and French. In the center of it all (both literally and figuratively) is Hu\, the culinary capital of the country, which draws foreign and Vietnamese gastronomes alike with its unique fusion of traditional and contemporary tastes. As an important Buddhist hub, the city also happens to be a vegetarian nirvana. The “Hu\ pancake” (bánh khoái) is a blissful combination of pork or shrimp, mushrooms, bean sprouts and onions enveloped by a batter of egg, corn, and rice flour. Other pork-based delicacies include bánh nam (shrimp and pork with sticky rice in a banana leaf) and nem li (grilled pork and greens in rice paper with peanut sauce). The spicy bún bò, a noodle soup thicker than ph, is made with vermicelli, beef, lemongrass, and chili, and it also reigns supreme in the imperial capital. While the cuisine in Hu\ is hands-down the best in Vietnam, it’s hard to go wrong anywhere in the country, even in the markets and on the street corners; sometimes these the best and most authentic meals you’ll find. And always remember this: in Vietnam, the most unassuming stall or corner shop may serve a meal that changes your life. Seriously—it’s that good.

Fruitacular

Hu\ may be a particular nirvana for vegetarians, but the fruit in Vietnam is magical to one and all. A wealth of indigenous fruits graces the country’s varied landscapes, particularly in the rich soils of the Mekong Delta, where you’ll likely encounter opportunities to sample more exotic varieties fresh off the tree. More famous fruits, including banana, mango, and pineapple are far better here than anywhere else, but don’t be afraid to venture into the unknown. Below is a comprehensive list of the bliss that awaits you.

Name	Size And Looks	Taste	Everything Nice
Banana chu#i	Yellow. Can be green.	You know. You’ve had it.	Taste and looks differ across regions. Young tree trunks can be eaten. Whoa.
Custard Apple mãng cñ xiˆm	Green, easy-to-peel skin, despite thorns. A big green pinecone.	Seeds galore in the sour, yellow pulp inside. Guess what? Tastes like custard.	Head south for this non-traditional apple. Thorns are black when ripe. Also called sweetsop or soursop. Go figure.
Durian sñu riˆng “one’s own sorrows”	Massively huge. Up to several kilos. Green, thick-skinned, and thorny.	Heavenly taste; hellish scent. The custard-like pulp is dreamy, as long as you don’t breathe in.	Considered the King of Fruits. Legend and modern literature have been obsessed with this unique fruit indigenous to Southeast Asia.
Green Dragon thanh long	Color: bright red. (Obviously.) Shape: like a blowfish. (Seriously.) Weight: up to 500g. Millions of seeds in a white, gelatinous pulp.	The seeds, which supposedly taste like cactus, can’t be removed—just delight in the sweet-and-sour appeal. Best in Oct.-Nov. and Apr.-May.	Tough, pink outer skin, but peels like a banana. It’s a bit like a large, gray kiwi, minus the citrus flavor. New on the market; harvested in the south. Best eaten chilled. As one source said: “Green dragon is whack.” We agree.
Guava ¤i	Size of an apple. Green skin that yellows as it ripens.	Yep—it’s sweet. It’s got seeds. It’s pulpy. It’s a fruit! Hooray.	100 different species. Sometimes eaten when it’s not yet ripe, usually with salt.
Jackfuit mít	Legendary: the largest fruit in the world. Can be up to 35kg and 1m long. Yellow inside.	An extremely sugary, banana-like taste. Harder skin means crunchier; softer means more juice.	You can pluck it from anywhere: branch, trunk, or root. They’re most prevalent in the Mekong. Eat around the core. Watch for thorns on the rind.
Longan long nhãn	Absolutely tiny. Light brown in color with not much of a skin.	The white pulp inside is as sweet in taste as the outside is in looks. Juicy.	Also called Dragon Eye. More abundant up north. If you like dried fruit, try this. Or try it in soup!
Lychee v=i	Rough red, skin. Oval or even heart-shaped.	Sweet, with juicy, white pulp. Seeds are edible.	A larger version of the longan.
Mango xoài	Oval-like. Yellow, orange, and/or green.	Sweet, sugary, juicy, and simply delicious.	The skin is inedible. Don’t try it. Bring dental floss—fibers abound.
Mangosteen mãng cƒt	Dark, purple, and thick skin. Small and round. White flesh.	The perfect balance of sweet and sour.	Cut through the skin to the juicy pulp at the center.
Papaya Œu Œ©	Yellow and pear-like in shape. Look inside: the flesh is pink or orange.	Sweet; almost so sweet that it doesn’t have much of a taste.	They say it helps with digestion. If it’s green, don’t eat it raw, although you can cook and eat it.
Persimmon h·ng xiˆm	Like an orange, but heart-shaped—so much more enticing.	Sweet and sour versions; the sour one becomes sweet as it ripens.	All the vitamin C you could ever need or want. Again, like an orange. Again, better because the skin isn’t bitter.
Pineapple khóm/da	Scary-looking the world over. Spiky.	Juicy, delicious, and (guess what) sweet.	Most delicious during the summertime, when the smell is unmistakable.
Pomelo b™i	Round. A refreshing smell you won’t forget.	Sweet but citrusy; much like a grapefruit.	So many types that each region has its own name for it.
Rambutan ch®m ch®m	Bright red when ripe. Rough, hairy skin.	Sweet and refreshing white pulp inside.	Harvested in the Mekong Delta May-Oct. Alias the “Hairy Cherry.” Delicious.
Sapodilla xa b® chˆ	Orange or yellow pulp versions. Brown skin.	Excessively sweet and juicy. Like many fruits.	It grows on evergreen trees, so you must try it for variety’s sake. Originally from South America.
Starfruit kh\	Shaped like a square (psych!). Yellow.	Tart and inspirational. It’ll change your opinion of nature.	What could be cooler than a fruit in the shape of a star? Slice it up or just bite in. Let’s Go’s favorite.
Waterapple roi or mÆn	5cm in diameter. Varies from green to bright red.	Can be acidic, and sometimes really sour. But cool color!	Often used as an alter offering, because of the coloring. Hollow on the inside.

Herbalicious

Vietnamese think of herbs as vegetables, so there’s always a healthy array of spices and the like from which to choose at every meal. This practice is not borne of a lack of vegetables—most Vietnamese dishes are less meat-intensive than those of other Southeast Asian countries. The real reason for the emphasis on the enticing herbs is simply the need for variety. Although the average tourist will undoubtedly encounter a plethora of appealing dishes piled high with veggies and meats, many Vietnamese live primarily on rice and noodles, which necessitate the wide employment of herbs and spices for meals to be at all interesting. Herbs grow rampantly on the edges of rice fields, allowing for heavy usage with each meal. Some of the more popular flavorings include black pepper, chili, coriander, ginger, lemongrass, mint, and star anise. Beyond spicing up the palettes of Vietnamese dishes, herbs are believed to provide medicinal benefits both specific (aiding digestion and blood circulation) and general (overall well-being). And of course there’s the ancient philosophy that they balance out the oft-excessive amount of starch (the yang of yin-yang) in the traditional daily diet, serving as an ideal and accessible source of yin.

Special Sauces

Herbs and spices can only do so much before the Vietnamese chef arrives at the problem of making a rice- and grain-based diet exciting. Inevitably, one asks: why not try salting a lot of fish, fermenting them in a vat, and using their fluid leavings as a sauce? That’s the innovative solution in much of Southeast Asia, but no one does it better than the Vietnamese. N™øc m m is quite potent, in terms of both taste and smell. Made from fermented anchovies, salt, and water, it is the most popular condiment in Vietnam—you won’t have to go out of your way to find the opportunity for a taste. The biggest producers are in southern Vietnam, in Phan Thi€t and on Phú Qu#c Island, where the fish roam free and in abundance. If you find yourself becoming a connoisseur of the powerful liquid, be aware of false labels, as most businessmen in the country are more than willing to slap on the esteemed Phú Qu#c label to conceal lower-quality products. To make the sauce, fresh anchovies and salt are layered in large wooden barrels, which are drained after three months. The liquid is then poured back into the barrel to ferment for another six months. It’s easy to become a n™øc m m expert: clearer sauce indicates more distillment and better quality. Less distilled (darker, more amber) n™øc m m is used in cooking, while higher-end stuff goes on the table.

But even the most overpowering n™øc m m can’t compete with m m t®m, a purple shrimp paste with an unbelievably noxious odor. Some travelers swear by it in soup; certain daring Vietnamese even eat it directly on dog meat. Let’s Go claims no responsibility for the welfare of travelers who voluntarily ingest what is perhaps the worst-smelling thing in the entire world.

Beverages

Even though the dehydrating powers of alcohol may not be the best way to beat the heat, the price is most definitely right. Bia h£i, the Vietnamese brew of choice, flows more freely and cheaply than water on the streets of Vietnam. You can also find a variety of name-brand international brews and higher-quality Vietnamese ones. Bottled water is also cheap; avoid drinking anything that comes from a tap and hasn’t been treated. Be wary of ice, as well, which is frequently just frozen tap water and can sneak easily into your smoothie or shake.

Other popular, non-alcoholic drinks abound. Fruit shakes of all sorts were a part of street fare in Vietnam long before they became a world-wide phenomenon. Sugarcane juice pressed fresh from the stalks is also a refreshing option; vendors often mix it with fruit and milk to create the heavenly liquid delight that is chè (see “The Wonders of Chè,”). Iced green tea, trà Œá, also world-famous, is served with most meals when it’s not being shipped to various international destinations. When bought on the street, all of the above may be served in a plastic bag, with a straw—just go with it. Finally, mornings are the domain of Vietnam’s almighty coffee, which is purported to be some of the best in the world, particularly when served ice-cold and mixed with sweetened condensed milk. You would be insane to miss out on it while actually in the country.

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