Food Porn: Hanoi

...as Eli said. The food! What graze-friendly gloriousness Hanoi invited us into. Strolling around, following our noses - and sometimes just following the basket that dangled off the shoulder of a speedy woman ahead of us in the crowd. We accepted the invitation, the challenge, with a good dose of excitement, and (if only at first) empty bellies. Having spent a few weeks in Vietnam before hitting the streets of Hanoi definitely helped us, both linguistically and digestively. Certain dishes were not without their surprises or mystery ingredients, but we were lucky to have mostly delicious, even if not the most attractive, experiences. We would first like to extend a big thank you to stickyrice.typepad.com. This exhaustively thorough blog introduced us to the complex Hanoi street food scene, inspired our boldly attempting mysterious eats, diminished the trepidation that often accompanies ordering and diligently identified things via both descriptions and locations of all kinds of finds. As for what really stood out, or quickly became a near-daily necessity, we made a selection of savory vs. sweet below - complete with notes about flavor, ingredients, surroundings, adventures or a combination thereof. Since neither of us eat too much meat, the savory side is likely an example of the simpler (yet still oh-so-satisfying) fare available. No fried tarantulas this time, just straightforward goodness enjoyed on minuscule plastic stool beside a swarm of motos and pedestrians.

SAVORY

Chao: A rice based soup, generally cooked into a downright gruel minus all of the bad notions that word conjures up. In traditional Chinese medicine, and culture, it is known as a congee and in Thailand it is johk. Served up from very early in the morning through early afternoon, it is topped with fried shallots, some green onion snippings (always cutting with scissors, these ladies are so reasonable and crafty), a dose of soft cruton, powdered pepper and chili, and whatever base meat or veg you choose. Most places specialize in one or two, such as trai (finely chopped oyster), ga (chicken) or more rarely rau (chopped vegetables). Our first chao trai feast treated us to a surprise, the flavor was so mild and lovely that we thought it was merely herbs and rice. We also met a lovely young woman from the Boston area who is working in the central highlands for a few more months, so good conversation accompanied our simple bowls. Eli was so hooked on this version that he kept an eye out for the same woman on each walk outside.

Pho: Best enjoyed for breakfast, this rice noodle soup was an old favorite in Boston, but was elevated to near transcendental experiences with the right combination of shredded vegetables, tofu, hearty lime slices, chopped herbs and fresh chili flakes. Our Hanoi go to was a small place called Coffee12 (we never figured out if that was the address or amount of hours open or what) that had lots of locals, sweet women working there and a clean, clean broth. A cleansing ritual and the right amount of warming for the brisk mornings.

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Banh Gio Nong: We originally tried this because I recognized it from a stickyrice post. A sticky rice square patty is lightly stuffed with mung (yellow) bean paste and a small bit of pork belly. It is found crisping on a large metal platter over a wood burning fire, or perhaps a clay stove housed in a basket, and served in a banana leaf with a dash of fish sauce and/or hot sauce (get both!). Our first one was ordered from a small corner set-up; we walked down the street testing, then savoring it, and promptly did a u-turn to get a second one. We spent the rest of our time in Hanoi casually seeking a better one, but it remains the champion.

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Banh Trung Cut: These almost raw looking steamed buns with filling are common and dirt cheap - a stellar snack, or meal, if you aren't wheat-free (ugh!). If you feel adventurous with the stuffings (we were only mildly so), you can order them off the back of bicycles - just listen for some random seeming hooting message and look for e bike with the big aluminum bucket in the back, steam billowing behind. Our go to, the Trung Cut comes with mushrooms, herbs, a hard-boiled quail egg and minimal amount of pork inside.

Bun Dau Mam Tom: A great example of trusting your own eyes (is that...it looks like...perfectly fluffy, fried tofu?), as well as able to eat fresh leafy herbs on the street and not contract something horrible, much to the chagrin of so many travel warnings. A simple plate of fried tofu, cool vermicelli, fresh herbs (purple/Thai basil, mint, shiso and something mildly sweet) and a shrimp paste dipping sauce. The latter part is an acquired earthy taste, and the strength depends on the maker, but it is necessary to complete the flavor walk that your mouth takes. A little extra mint, less sauce or extra sauce on the tofu followed with a shooter of basil - the dish shifts and melds, and the old woman who served it to you is endlessly entertained. Plus, it is nice to have something other than a one pot, or one hand, dish.

SWEET

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Banh Troi Tau: The pairing of all that is holy and wonderful, according to me. A laughably hideous bowl of utter perfection. Hot ginger infused syrup (not super sweet and the stronger ginger the better) with two rice flour dumplings suspended in it. At two averagely good shops there was always one with a black sesame paste filling and one with mung bean paste. Decent - and I will always choose the former as the last to be eaten. However, one magical place exists - open only after 3:30pm, a vacant door and stoop before, specializing in this and two other bowls of dessert only. It materializes with an air of mystery and utility, and locals literally stake the place out, either waiting upon every stool or trolling on motos, necks craned. This establishment serves one dumpling full of shredded coconut and one with the black sesame paste. Also, after tasting their ginger broth, the rest just tasted like sugar syrup. OMG. I spied a sad frozen version of this in a Bangkok store, but dare not spoil the taste memory. Should anyone know of a good place for this stateside, please-oh-please do tell.

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Chuoi Nep Nuong: What a concoction! Whoever invented this one gets two gold stars and number two on the list of "Best Desserts of WonderWander's Hanoi" - a niche list if ever there was one, but don't think that means it's meaningless. Take one banana (the small, super flavorful kind, if possible), wrap in sticky rice and grill. Cut into a cup (with scissors, natch), drench in a warm tapioca/sweet coconut milk mixture, and sprinkle a few crushed peanuts to garnish. Delicious and practically even good for you, what with all that banana and all. Probably just as awesome with some cinnamon on top and a little vanilla ice cream underneath.

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Che Con Ong: Definitely not a favorite, but it gets a mention because it could likely save your life. Were you to be stranded somewhere in heavy snows, with shelter but no food...this could last for a week or two, keeping you sustained until help arrived. A sticky rice patty drowned with ginger infused browned sugar syrup (not quite caramel flavor, but a good substitute word), served cooled and covered in a few crushed peanuts. We consider it the Vietnamese GORP, but not as addictive.

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Chi Ma Phu: A practical dessert, should you be interested in the healing qualities if black sesame and something not super dessert-like, as we westerners know it. It is a mildly sweetened ground black sesame soup, served in small doses - and particularly good at the aforementioned magic hole-in-the-wall. What we liked most was the simplicity, almost an after dinner tonic dessert.

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Banh Da Ke: A semi-sweet snack off the back of a bicycle - yes, please. One big, round, crispy rice cracker is covered in a smear of mung bean paste and sprinkled with what we think was crumbled, cooked egg yolk (but we really aren't sure) and sugar. It is important to use what Vietnamese you have to communicate only a little shake of sugar - otherwise, you will feel your enamel eroding with every bite. When light on the sugar, however, this is a great light snack that is not too savory and not super sweet. Almost a mild yellow bean hummus of sorts, surrounded by lightweight crunch and held within a square of yesterday's news.

You may realize by now (really, how could you not?) that our food experiences are integral to our place-making, be it that we are somewhere for only several days or a few months. Thankfully, though it might sometimes seem otherwise, our documentary process isn't a straight shot from the table or street to the digital realm. The tried and true, and far less obtrusive, in-between is a small and scribbled notebook with various lists of dishes, drinks or ingredients to hold on to. It is divided by country and contains the proper terms, ingredients, or sometimes simply the location of where we tried a specific bite. Beyond being helpful for our writing here, we have found that it has become a trigger unto itself - as we review certain details, or sometimes flip back to the start of the trip, new things emerge. Effectively, we are retracing our steps, solidifying the experience as memory - or redrafting it more thoroughly. What we look forward to most is doing this again, creating new recipes inspired by these notes perhaps - and thus, new smell/taste/life memories to go along with them.

Hurray For Hanoi!

For the most part, this adventure has been pretty well served by the idea of flexibility. Only a couple times have we been misled and, without necessarily regretting anything, wished to have a couple more days here or a couple less days there. Cat Ba Island, with its laid back quiet beauty, had us wondering if going for any more than a couple days to the melee we'd heard Hanoi to be would end up just more overwhelming, hectic and challenging than our kayak relaxed brains could handle. Wrong! 20120116-213616.jpg

Well...sort of wrong. Hanoi IS a melee. It is a heaving mass of people and goods, motos and cars, foreigners, locals and everything in between all moving in every and any direction at once. But inside all of this beautiful madness, we arrived on Dec. 28th to find a city that nestles itself right in the crack between some of the other wonderful places we've been lucky enough to explore in Southeast Asia. It's the grit (metaphorically and literally) and anything goes opportunity of Kathmandu but with a little more of the development - smooth roads, good ice cream, etc. - of, say, Bangkok or Chiang Mai. By the end of day one we were aleady re-evaluating our thoughts of leaving before New Year's Eve.

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(Before I get going too much, I have to preface with the fact that everything we did in this city was surrounded on either side by food. Amazing, exciting, exhilarating food adventures [with nary a large insect in sight!]. I'm not even going to start about it here, though, as anything less than a full post dedicated exclusively would miss the mark entirely. Stay tuned.)

After being whisked off to a hotel on the back of a motorbike, we spent the remaining days of the year wandering the supremely walkable Old Quarter. From as far north as Westlake to as far south as the French Quarter, several markets, endless back streets and side alleys and more museums than we've been to since Europe (three) filled in the times between sleeping and eating. Two of the museums - something that, I think many people would agree, is a little easy to burn out on - ended up being surprisingly worthwhile.

First stop was the Vietnam Fine Arts Museum - a collection of pieces that other art museums around the world will no longer borrow from due to the fact that the pieces within aren't verifiably original. Strange. Reason being is that years of corruption in the state run museum meant originals were sold off without much in the way of record-keeping, copies (though quite good ones) taking their place. It's strangely fitting to wander slack jawed in awe at some of the beautiful woodcut prints and silk paintings while questioning the authenticity and, getting a little meta, questioning what that even means in the context of art. For the admission price of just under one US dollar each, it was easily the best art museum to cost ratio I've ever experienced, save for the free nights at the MFA in Boston.

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Next up was the Vietnamese Women's Museum; a truly beautiful collection displayed with the elegance and modern touches of something you might expect in Manhattan. Covering everything from women's domestic roles to wartime roles to some of the insanely intricate and fantastic fabrics of the minority tribes, it was another bargain at about USD $1.50.

As the first couple days whizzed by we realized we were subconsciously extending our stay further and further. By the 30th we knew we wouldn't be on a bus towards the Laos border until, unfortunately, Casey's birthday (January 4) so we decided to utilize the evening to celebrate a little early - avoiding the NYE crowds and prices in the process. Living on a pretty tight budget these past months has made the few meal splurges we've taken seem even more exciting and special and this one proved no different, despite the best efforts of a waitress who refused us the happy hour benefits and a group of six at the table over from us who thought watching youtube videos featuring lots of explosions and gunfire would be a fun way to spend the evening. We'll pretend they were fireworks in celebration of Casey's birthday and instead focus on the fact that, while it was fairly low-key, the food was delicious and the birthday sentiment was there. Even the cold weather checked in, catching us a bit off-guard as we had left our warmest layers in Bangkok, not really taking into consideration how much further north Hanoi is.

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A few days later we went out for a birthday coffee at Cong Cafe - one of our better finds in the city - complete with gift unwrapping to make it seem like a real birthday before heading back to the hotel for our departure from this magnificent city. Two motos took us on the 20 minute drive through the most ridiculous and up close traffic I've ever been a part of to catch our overnight sleeper bus to Dien Bien Phu - the last stop town ten or so hours west of Hanoi on the way to the border. It's pretty hard to know which given place might strike one's fancy. I don't need to harp on the expectations idea again, but I can speak for us both when I say I couldn't be happier that we had the flexibility, this time, to stretch our time in Hanoi a little further. Pushing our schedule back a bit was all worth it for the smiles we received, the sights and smells we took in, and the food...oh, the food...

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A Very Cat Ba Christmas

The xe om ride to the Hue train station marked the beginning of a continuous twenty hour period of travel, in which we utilized six different modes of transportation. It's true - the overnight extravaganza from Hue to Cat Ba city took us by: moto --> 12 hour train --> taxi --> bus --> minibus --> speedboat --> minibus

We would have felt more like James Bond had we not endured half hour intervals of awaiting the train or bus here and there. Or perhaps if some paragliding or jumping off of a helicopter was involved. Alas, we made it to Cat Ba on Christmas eve, snagged simple accommodations with a fantastic view of the harbor and took in the overall quietness of the island. There is something about Cat Ba city, a friend recently mentioned, that feels like a small Florida beach town. It happens to be pock-marked by women selling strings of "pearls" and tiny shells shamed into the likeness of owls or similar oddities. There is the inevitable food mark up, and a small but pervasively growing skyline of bright, skinny and awkwardly tall guesthouses. However, there is also - everywhere outside the town itself - the beauty of the simple island and surrounding bays. While we were there, it seemed that half of the businesses were closed up for the chilly season and we couldn't have been happier with this. Happy low-key holidays to us.

For Christmas day itself, we decided to rent a moto and zip around the island, exploring, stopping for prettiness and enjoying the practically vehicle-free roads (a real gem of an oddity in Southeast Asia). We did exactly this, but it was intervals of zip inside of relaxing cruising, as the island itself is quite small and we would have been all done by noon had we zipped entirely. There are just a few roads that lead over to one port, past some caves and the national park, or along the coast. We made it to the north side of the island and parked the bike just in time to watch a young man's moto tip over under the weight of that mornings sea harvest. Thanks to Eli, he got it balanced again and was able to take off without anything collapsing. Since we didn't spy him on the road back, we assume all went reasonably well. The dock where that mini-drama unfolded was the point of a fairly picturesque and standard view of the magical bay from shore. Small basket boats with lacquered bottoms were rowed by little women in big hats, large boats lazily made their way somewhere, and the undulating hills of the islands in the distance faded gradually to a misty grey. Everything from the barnacles on the boat ramp to the silence was enthralling for more than a few moments.

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On the ride home later in the day, we stopped at a stalactite cave where a ten year old boy was our guide, armed with two clunky torches and no fear of the dark. Pitch black, warm and filled with bats it was, well, a cave. Yet, still fun to romp around with a sweet little friend for ten minutes - and a real roadside attraction steal a little more than $2 for the two of us.

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The views from every angle and shore are basically full of local fishermen (or fisherwomen, hosting small children in their boats), folks combing for crabs, oysters or mussels in the low-tides and various goodies drying out in the late afternoon sun. All accompanied by incredible quiet.

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The next day was the real adventure treat we gave ourselves for the holiday. An all day excursion into Lan Ha bay, the morning and afternoon full of sea kayaking and lunch on the boat. Others in the group did the same or spent the day rock climbing, as this is the main place for that in Vietnam - in better weather you can even deep solo, which is to climb up a cliff and jump into the sea! Neither of us has ever sea kayaked, though it was fairly similar to a lake, as the bay itself is incredibly calm aside from the ripples created by the larger tour boats or liners sweeping by from time to time. We were set on exploring a cave, but were only able to find some coves. Not a problem, since the coves were possibly more interesting - the ecosystem inside was lush, host to tropical birds and protected from the lives and happenings outside the arches. Amazingly, there are many small floating houses and fishing set-ups throughout most of the bay and along the edge of the islands. Guard dogs, surprisingly, abound on these floating villages and hearing barking while floating mid-sea with nothing but water and sheer cliffs rising above you is mildly surreal. Equally so is the fact that these folks, mainly men, live and work out here for weeks or months at a time, as we gathered from our Vietnamese guide. To have the open space around you be a deep void of water must be a strange mix of freedom and half-imprisonment. At least, that is how I felt viewing it all.

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Some chilly beach trips, relaxed town market excursions and a hotpot experience rounded our island adventuring out. As per the recommendation of the organization we went kayaking with, we got our hotpot on at Mr. Zoom's, an unassuming place under some tarps in a row of Com-Pho-Thit Cho (rice-pho-dog meat, no kidding) restaurants on a back street in town. A good sign of freshness is when your shrimp leaps off the table behind you and is found later under foot - which is exactly what happened to Eli. Luckily, a kind woman gave us a brief lesson on appropriate hot pot orderliness and behavior, or else we would have been a hot mess. (sorry, I couldn't resist)

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Though we were tempted to stay a few more days and enjoy more of the pace, the ebb and flow, and quiet, we departed towards Hanoi a few days before the new year in hopes of wrangling a sense of the city prior to any wild celebrations. The same transportation hustle, minus the train, ferried us towards the capital with relative seamlessness. The complexities of reaching and leaving Cat Ba only add to its being a special place to spend some time, a reward at the end of the game and a token to keep close when things seem all too accessible.

Hue

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Perhaps we were still feeling the crush-high of Hoi An, perhaps we had inhaled enough second-hand cigarette smoke on our reclined bus ride, perhaps our feet had been elevated above our heart for too long. Whatever it was, we stepped off the bus at the Hue bus station (note: not at all near the middle of Hue, as promised) with a sense of openness that doesn't usually accompany such moments. As we were being descended on by a troupe of twenty taxi and moto drivers ("moto?moto?whereyougo?cheapprice!moto?"), a young man that had been permitted to board the bus approximately one mile before the station approached us sweetly, noting once more that he was with a family run hotel smack in the middle of where we wanted to be located. He would give us a ride to said hotel "for a look" (my words) at no charge to us. Our usual reaction to this is (silently, Yeah Right.) "no, thank you" at various speeds and with varying smiles. This time, however, it seemed totally normal to say ... Um, ok, sure.

Happily, this story is not full of warnings and horror, as you might expect. We were not taken hostage to some rat den in the dregs of Hue and forced to pay millions of dollars a night for a hole. We were not even subjected to an intensely close follower whilst inspecting this room. Furthermore, we WERE surprisingly pleased by the location (down a lively and minuscule, but semi-residential alley) and presentation/amenities (clean, beside lamp, working hot water, shared balconies, no mold or smoke stains) and price ($8 per night, total) of this place. Furthermore, it was right across the way from the Liberty Bar, a small cafe owned by an ever-singing man, with a regular evening playlist that traversed American hits from the 90's and early 2000's and a few Jenga games. Moral of the story: we took a chance, followed our guts, and it worked out just fine. Sure, this isn't always the case, but we have reached a point where we have more of a game plan, even some hand signals if we are ready to leave, and it is much easier to weigh all of this rapidly now. Thank goodness for non-swindlers!

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Our few days in Hue (pronounced hway) were punctuated by some simple exploring to the markets - both commercial supermarket and local mayhem-filled, as well as a visit to the Imperial City - a walled fortress and palace in the center of the city. This area was, not surprisingly, sufficiently destroyed by American bombings and is in the process of being meticulously restored. Still worth a walk and investigation, however, and the 3-D computer renditions of former activities, such as elephant vs. tiger duels, are particularly entertaining. All of these excursions were blanketed in grey and swimming through misty rain. The aesthetic result of this weather was a dreamy, somewhat dismal yet calming landscape which accompanied our wanderings.

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One of our more cherished interactions belongs to the guesthouse in Hue as well. A young man working at the front desk came up to the balcony one morning while we were having breakfast. Through a lovely mishmash of conversation, we discovered that he is trained as an urban planner and working at the guesthouse as an interim between projects and studying his English. He asked us to help him with some standard, yet more complex, translations he was working on and we were happy to help. In the meantime, he taught us some Vietnamese that we may or may not have forgotten at this moment. This was a small peek behind the curtain of the day-to-day that we love being 'chosen' to be a part of. Then, not five minutes later, his coworker showed up with what we first thought to be a similar request. Her English was more akin to our Vietnamese, though still leaps and bounds ahead of us, so the exchange was slightly more confusing. The request itself was not exactly as standard as the first. She was hoping for us, me in particular - I'm assuming because we share a gender identification, to write a love letter to her boyfriend, or perhaps he is just her friend, in France. He had visited the country months before and may or may not share her feelings. Or it could be that he proposed marriage to her and would visit in a year. We aren't at all sure of those details, but the goal of the letter was explained clearly by her finally writing "Love letter. He gone." To add to this, it was made clear that we were to keep this secret and not share with her coworkers (I'm not sure how we would have done this, considering the myriad language barriers). Needless to say, the whole thing was incredibly charming, the request was fulfilled (creatively and with options to include or omit stronger statements) by the next morning. She was over the top with gratitude, the rest of our interactions peppered with knowing smiles and giggling.

The point being, regardless of the future life of this letter or the relationship it is now in the middle of, the tourist curtain was pulled even further back and we were smitten with it all. Oddly enough, we had read the trip advisor comments for this particular guesthouse (after staying a few days, out of curiosity) and they were relatively banal but good, one mentioning that they "think" it is a family run establishment and "nice enough." All of this led us to wonder how many people passing through actually speak with the staff beyond hello and how much and extra towel, please. In spite of this, or maybe because of, we had a good stopover in this former capital city.

We each grabbed a xe om (moto) towards the station on our last afternoon, armed with our evening tickets for the overnight train to Hanoi. Even then, my driver was making jokes about Eli's ride being more expensive (because he was heavier) and singing ridiculous songs about his wild driving and cheap price. He had me belly laughing most of the 3km ride, happy that a good sense of humor and general openness were part of our days, that is, if we invited it in a bit.

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