Eating Through Vietnam

Twenty-one days. Three cities. One goal: eat everything.

Vietnam has some of the best street food in the world. This is known intellectually. But knowing and experiencing are different things.

Hanoi to Ho Chi Minh City. Approximately 87 different stalls. Four kilograms gained. All fear of trying new things lost.

Hanoi's Old Quarter is a maze. Every street sells food.

The first meal is phở at a stall so small sitting requires a plastic stool on the sidewalk. The broth is clear. Deep. Perfect.

The owner watches. "Good?"

"Very good."

"My mother's recipe. Forty years."

Three visits before leaving Hanoi. She remembers. That is the thing about street food. It is personal.

Hanoi invented egg coffee. Coffee. Condensed milk. Whipped egg yolk. Served in a tiny cup with a candle underneath.

Café Giang is the birthplace. The owner's grandson makes it. Whisking the yolk and milk into a meringue. Pouring it over strong Vietnamese coffee.

It tastes like liquid tiramisu. Three cups are consumed.

Hue was Vietnam's imperial capital. The food reflects that. More refined. More complex. More beautiful.

Bún bò Huế is the signature dish. Spicy beef noodle soup with lemongrass and shrimp paste.

The vendor has been making it for thirty years. "The secret is the shrimp paste. Too little, no flavor. Too much, too strong. You must feel it."

He does not measure. He feels. That is Vietnamese cooking.

Hoi An is small. Ancient. Beautiful. Obsessed with food.

Cao lầu is the signature dish. Noodles made with water from a specific well. Topped with pork, herbs, and crispy noodles.

A cooking class teaches technique. "You cut too thick," the instructor says. "Thin. Thin. Vietnamese food is about balance. Texture. Color. Flavor."

Recreation at home fails. Some things can only be learned in place.

Saigon is bigger. Louder. Sweeter. The food reflects that.

Bánh mì is loaded. Pâté, mayo, pickled vegetables, cilantro, chili. Fifty cents.

Six days of bánh mì breakfast. On the sixth day, the vendor adds extra pâté. "For loyal customer."

Vietnamese street food teaches:

Plastic stools are comfortable with good food.

Language barriers do not matter when pointing at something delicious.

The best meals cost less than $2.

Street vendors remember returning customers.

Food is the fastest way to understand a culture.

Twenty-one days. Eighty-seven stalls. Four kilograms heavier.

Worth every gram.