Hanoi - part 2
Where food on the street beats food in a restaurant (well most of the time)
When I left China in a rush at the end of 2016, stress was the only emotion I could recognize. That final month was a blur of packing up all my worldly belongings, organizing paperwork for my dog, and squeezing in as many catering jobs as possible before departure. Moving dogs and countries is not the cheapest combination in the world.
Fast forward eight years, and I now find myself—temporarily—back in this part of the world, which far too many people casually lump together as simply "Asia." I often joke, “Of course Asia is a country, not a continent!”
But this isn’t the same country—it’s Vietnam. And according to my student, a chef I’m mentoring, there’s not a lot of love lost between the Vietnamese and the Chinese. So what once felt familiar now feels strangely foreign. Sometimes, I swear I hear Mandarin, only to realize it’s Vietnamese. The two languages can sound surprisingly alike at times. I've learned that while many Vietnamese people may never have formally studied Mandarin, they often recognize basic words. The food, however, makes the difference unmistakable—I am most definitely in Vietnam, not China.
In the two weeks since publishing my last newsletter, I’ve been deep-diving into Instagram feeds of well-known Australian chefs like Luke Nguyen and local Vietnamese food bloggers and web sites such as Where in Hanoi trying to uncover the best spots for street food in this cuisine-obsessed city.
Food is everywhere—from vendors riding bicycles equipped with pots and loudspeakers singing out what they’re selling, to the countless stalls dishing out soups, snails, clams, roasted meats and rice noodle salads right on the pavement. Then there are the small clusters of mostly men, drinking tea served by older women, all perched on those tiny plastic chairs that have become an iconic symbol of Vietnam. I’m still trying to figure out why they choose those exact spots—but for now, I’m just asking myself many questions. Mostly why ????
When I’m not teaching, I find myself exploring the streets of Hanoi, trying to taste as many different dishes as possible. How people decide which food stall to stop at is still a mystery to me. The Vietnamese seem to eat at all hours, effortlessly. Pho, that most famous of soups, is, of course, everywhere. Locals stop suddenly at their preferred stalls, the scent of cinnamon rising from pho bo (beef) and the brightness of fresh lime from pho ga (chicken) enticing those dropping off family members before parking their mopeds—still the city’s main mode of transport. Though with growing wealth, cars are slowly starting to appear. Hanoi is a city in constant transformation. The younger generation seems determined to write a new kind of history.
The food scene, while going through its own changes—think rice paper pizzas or the now well-known nems (rice paper rolls), fried and covered in mayonnaise—has become a favourite with the younger, hipper crowd looking for something tasty on the way home. I tried them one night on the street, near the Old Quarter and, to be honest, all that mayonnaise was a bit much for me and I managed to slop half of it down my shirt, but I get the appeal.
Still, most of the stallholders I spoke to—or should I say gesticulated at —have been there for years, some for generations. I’m sure many of these women (they are always women), whose lives have revolved around the quiet rhythm of their stalls, have raised children beside these bowls of steaming nourishment, hoping to give them a different kind of life. And some of them have. I’ve been lucky enough to meet the children of a few of these hardworking women—and some have even made it to Australia, speaking fondly of their time here. It’s often those same kids who help me order, or make sense of my incredibly bad Vietnamese.
The Michelin Guide has arrived in Hanoi in recent years, a sign of how far the culinary scene has come-or maybe- it’s Michelin finally waking up to the excellence of food in places it previously overlooked. A handful of restaurants have moved off the street and into more Western-style settings. There will always be debate about authenticity—but hey, good food is good food. And having tried both, for me, the jury is still out. To be honest, give me a plastic chair over a fancy seat any day.
I’ve been to some of those dining rooms, and what’s struck me most is the growing embrace of vegetarianism. I’ve learned a great deal by eating in these restaurants—especially at Cồ Đàm, where I experienced a ten-course degustation menu with vegetables as the undisputed stars of the show. Each course arrived like a small work of art, and the presentation alone was a highlight. More than that, it was a lesson in just how vast and varied Vietnam’s plant-based ingredients are. Leafy greens I couldn’t name, herbs with unfamiliar fragrances and textures, treated with care and creativity—it all reminded me that I still had so much to learn about Vietnamese cuisine. The inventiveness was really cool to see and experience.
This is what I’ve learned while teaching someone else: that I still have so much to learn myself. There have been frustrations, plenty of misunderstandings, and blank stares that left us both wondering what just happened. The cultural differences are real—but after a month, it feels like we’re finally starting to understand each other. And as our connection grows, so does her understanding of Western food.
I have only ten or so days to go before I head back to Paris, and whilst I can’t wait to eat a crusty baguette again, I’ll miss the vibrancy and freshness of all the foods I have eaten here in Hanoi. It has been a challenging yet satisfying six weeks. I came here not sure that I could withstand the rough and tumble of a new culture, yet the Vietnamese people I have met—through their food—have shown me kindness and humour, and have seemingly been chuffed when I tell them that their food is rất ngon, or very delicious. Its been a wild and sometimes chaotic time, but hopefully I’ll be back.
Recipe :
Pomelo Salad - perfect with seafood especially prawns and crab
1 pomelo, peeled and free of any membrane and broken up into large filaments
1 recipe of Nuoc Cham - how much you use depends on how much you make
A handful of fresh herbs: mint, coriander, perilla leaves, thai basil
Crispy shallots
Crispy garlic chips
A handful of peanuts or cashews
A small handful of blanched green beans, finely sliced.
1 small chilli, finely sliced, seeds removed
1 finely sliced lime leaf
Method:
Mix all ingredients together- except the shallots, garlic and nuts- and leave to sit for five minutes for the flavours to mingle. Place on a serving dish and garnish with the crispy shallots, garlic and nuts.
Have a great week,
Kathx