I have long been a fan of Vietnamese food, having spent many years in Paris, and already knew my cheveux d'ange from my nêm.
I had
only recently been introduced to Phô, the tasty and nourishing beef or
chicken broth that is a staple of Vietnamese street food and is now becoming very trendy. A restaurant called Phô Phô had recently opened up near my office but I was keen to try some authentic stuff. So I took myself off to Vietnam in April of this year, on a spring roll offensive.
In Ho Chi Minh City, formerly known as Saigon, my first port of call, I
stayed in the Continental Hotel, an
iconic and elegant colonial palace, made famous by Graham Greene and every
subsequent journalist and writer who ever visited the city. My room on the 3rd floor was enormous and
overlooked the opera house, almost the same view that Martin Sheen has in the opening scenes of Apocalypse
Now. The hotel restaurant was empty and
expensive ("Le Bourgeois" - Uncle Ho would turn in his grave) so I found a
welcoming little place called Vietnam House where I washed away
the dust of the journey with a Tiger beer and then a second in swift
succession. Spring rolls followed by
chicken with lemongrass and steamed rice came to 400K vnd, or about 14 euros. Probably extortionate by Vietnamese standards
but on the way out I spotted a photo of George H. and Barbara Bush taken in the
restaurant in 1995 so obviously Presidential prices.
Because of the heat, most of the hotels in Saigon have rooftop bars where you can catch a breeze. I went for an after-dinner cocktail at "Saigon Saigon", the 10th floor open-air bar of the Caravelle Hotel. So good they named it twice. I had a Saigon Dream cocktail or some such nonsense and tried to stave off jet lag at least until nightfall.
At the
Continental, breakfast is taken in the famous courtyard with its three 150-year-old
frangipani trees, next to the bar dubbed by sixties war correspondents “The Continental Shelf”. Interesting breakfast buffet, if you can deal
with Phô beef and noodle broth so early in the morning. Phô is traditionally eaten for breakfast,
mid-morning or lunch at the latest. You
could also have dim sum, salad, rice, pastries or fruit. I played it safe with the last two, trying
purple dragonfruit (rather tasteless, a bit like a kiwi with tiny seeds that
stick between your teeth) and giant sweet grapefruit.
Beer
is a popular beverage in Vietnam and each town has its own brew. It
all tastes the same, but that's not a reason not to order a Bia Saigon
in Saigon, Bia
Hà Nội in Hanoi, a Huda in Hué or a Tiger anywhere else. It's all
made under licence by Heineken or Carlsberg anyway. Cold green tea is
another popular drink and is often provided free of charge in
restaurants or on food stalls. I saw one woman come into a restaurant,
serve herself a glass of green tea, and leave.
But the beverage par excellence, the culinary jewel in the crown of Vietnam, was cà phê sua đá,
(Vietnamese iced cold-drip coffee made with sweetened condensed milk). I had seen a documentary about Vietnam’s
coffee industry and its first coffee millionaire Trung Nguyen, whose coffee shop chain is just one of several in
Saigon. I escaped from the searing
mid-morning heat in a branch of Highlands
Coffee, another of the many chains of Starbucks lookalikes, and had two
delicious super-strong Vietnamese iced coffees while I made the most of their
free wi-fi. Tea and coffee are both
grown in Vietnam and the upmarket tea shop chain with the intriguing name of Phuc Long
is also prevalent. The much prized 'weasel' coffee is sold here, made from beans ingested and shat out again by weasels. I opted for the regular brew.
I was assured
by people who had been there that I could eat street food for about a
euro. However on the street I decided against it, for various reasons: one, the heat. No-one had told me
April was the hottest time of year in Vietnam, although the fact that
the flight was so cheap should have been an indication. Eating outside
was not a preferred option. Secondly, the Vietnamese all sit on tiny
little plastic stools, which would be children's play furniture here in
Europe, and I feared my Western bottom would not fit and I might have
trouble getting up again. So I opted for restaurants with air
conditioning and proper seating. I found another one on Dong Khoi (my lack of adventurousness was nothing to do with timidity, but everything to do with the debilitating humidity) where I had my first real Vietnamese Phô , and very tasty it was too.
That evening I had dinner
at a restaurant on Pasteur called SH
Garden, I had seen their terrace from the rooftop bar at the
Caravelle. To get to it you had to go up
3 floors in a 100-year-old lift (with a new motor, they hastened to reassure
me). It was like something from Old
Shanghai. There was no room on the
terrace, but they found me a corner table inside and I ordered an assortment of
Vietnamese rolls (nems, cha-gia etc.) and a beef salad with 2 Tiger beers. Wine is really extortionate here, even Australian wine which doesn't have to come that far, relatively speaking, hence I was sticking with beer. Came to nearly 600k (18 euros) but there was live music. Tootled back for an early night in an attempt to circumvent jet lag, noticing the
Rex Hotel’s rooftop bar advertised its happy hour as “Five O’Clock Follies” –
what the war correspondents used to call the US government’s daily press
briefing. On my last evening before setting off for Hué I spent a
couple of hours perched happily up there overlooking
the Saigon rush hour, enjoying the breeze and chugging Bombay Sapphire and
tonic.
In Hué I stayed at the swanky and very
oriental Imperial Hotel with a fabulous view over the Perfume River. Virtually next
door to the hotel is the Mandarin Café, much recommended
by Trip Advisor. Owner Mr Phan Chu is a photographer and tireless charity worker, who is always there on
the premises, signing photos for his fans.
Fans of Phan, in fact. Had lunch
(Phô Ga this time) and a beer, and Mr Chu came over for a chat and showed me his
photo album (I was obviously being invited to buy some prints). Great strong iced coffee.
At a loud music bar called DMZ in downtown Hué I had a couple of beers, went away
to watch a show, and when I returned several hours later my young waiter
recognized me and welcomed me back. Most of the conversations I had in Vietnam were with young waiters and waitresses wanting to practice their English. I
ordered a pina colada and a burger, feeling in need of some western food. There's only so many ways you can serve Phô. (Two, actually - with chicken or with beef).
The next day I was driven over the Hai Van Pass to Hoi An. We made a lunch stop at
Lang Co beach, where my driver drove into a big tourist complex and pushed me
inside. It was ghastly – obviously state
run, sloppy service, awful food and full of Vietnamese OAPs spitting everywhere
and eating with their mouths open. The complex overlooked the
sea, the beach was stunning but I imagine the facilities were pretty
basic. It reminded me of state Communist
run resorts I had visited in Algeria and Benin.
At the end of the day, in my perfect world, all hotels would be run by
the Americans.
The hotel Ha An in Hoi An, where I had booked a room, had been recommended by a
colleague at work and was a boutique hotel in an old colonial villa built
around a beautifully kept courtyard garden.
Quite bijou. Every detail was so
meticulously thought out, I wondered if the owner might be a gay man. The bathrooms were exquisite with a rain
shower and big pebbles in the bottom to reduce splashing. Clever.
Rose petals had been scattered in the bathroom and an orchid was placed
on the pristine white cotton bed. The small restaurant was always quiet, but always ready to rustle you up something.
Hoi An was like a film set from an Indiana Jones movie. I expected Bert Kwouk to appear in black pyjamas at any minute and offer me some opium. Although the restaurant downtown in old Hoi An was fairly nondescript, it had an open terrace overlooking the river,
and the food was edible. I was starting to find Vietnamese food was tasty but only had so many permutations. Anyway you don't go to Hoi An for food, you go for shopping. This is where the tailors can run you up a suit or an evening gown in 24 hours. The sales ladies are hardcore here. Within five minutes of leaving the hotel I was three pairs of harem pants and a silk top better dressed. The food market in Hoi An was colourful and manned by picturesque locals in conical sunhats, great photo material.
And so to Hanoi. There is a commercial district known as the '36 streets', where every street specializes in a different product. The restaurant recommended by a friend happened to be in the
Street of the Sparkly Shoes. I managed
to resist temptation, and found Green Tangerine,
a French restaurant situated in an old colonial house dating from 1928. I was lucky to get a table, as it is quite
posh and reservations are recommended.
The Indian manager showed me through the courtyard to a table inside,
which was just as well as it poured with rain shortly afterwards. The staff were all beautiful, graceful,
gracious and charming. The food was
stunning. Not cheap. But worth it. A mixture of French and Vietnamese, small portions but beautifully prepared, almost like works of art. The only really memorable meal I had in the
whole two weeks. I had two starters and a dessert, with two
glasses of white wine, and it came to about 23 euros. I noticed they did a lunchtime menu for about
7 euros.
Ca phe Cong
is a Hanoi cafe done out like a Viet Cong bunker. It is painted in
military green on the outside, and inside a narrow concrete staircase
takes you up through several small rooms to the top floor where you can
watch the mental motorcycle riders of Hanoi criss-crossing like an
Edinburgh Tattoo display team, only without the precision.
I had planned to have lunch the next day at the iconic Metropole Hotel but got there too early and decided I probably
wasn’t well dressed enough, so ate at Dinh Lang Thuỷ Tạ restaurant overlooking the lake and had a real pig-out before heading for the airport. A lovely young lady in a brighly coloured ao dai prepared my kebabs at the table.
While in Hanoi I went on a 2-day cruise to Ha Long Bay with Handspan Travel on a junk called “Treasure”.
Lunch, dinner and breakfast were all included. We were given qa 4-course buffet lunch on arrival, and another
buffet in the evening. All lovely food, although don't ask me to remember what we had. The sight of Ha Long Bay disappearing into a darkening pink mist is all I remember.
From Hanoi I flew to Nha Trang, once an R & R centre for American GIs, now
a major holiday resort for Vietnamese, Australians and Russians alike.
I stayed at the Novotel, overlooking
the beach, and was greeted by a charming doorman with excellent
English, Mr Nguyen, and shown to my room which was a spacious
split-level with a balcony overlooking the South China Sea. I must say the early morning view did not disappoint, although it was surprisingly noisy at 5 a.m. Returning clubbers? I wondered. On poking my head over the balcony I found the beach packed with early-rising Vietnamese who, unlike mad dogs and Englishmen, stay out of the midday sun, and like to be active on their holidays. See those little black dots in the sea? They're all people. Under my balcony ladies in smart silk pyjamas were doing a tai-chi routine with matching red fans. I went back to bed until breakfast.
This was my reward for 10 days of tramping around Vietnam in the searing heat. Nha Trang is full of restaurants, Western, Vietnamese and a huge amount of PECTOPAH. Kilim restaurant was recommended in my guide book. It had no air conditioning so it was a trifle sweaty. As
I was leaving I noticed an open verandah upstairs where I would have
enjoyed a small breeze. In the evening I went upmarket and had a mojito
and
dinner at the Sailing Club right on the beach. It was full of Russians.
Nha Trang Sailing Club: two big fat Russians in the premium seats. Makes you nostalgic for the Germans.
The following day's lunch was in a deserted restaurant in a back street called Viet Nam Xu’a where the food was extremely good. That evening I went for dinner
at Lantern’s which had also been recommended. However it was full of tourists, mostly Australian. My dinner (which was nothing special) was rather spoiled by the grating noise emitted by an Aussie bloke with tattoos wearing a vest two tables down who engaged everyone at the intervening table in conversation and then proceeded to tell them his whole life story and where they should and should not go in SE Asia. I found the food fairly ordinary and ate quickly to get away from the sound of Crocodile Dundee. The next day I had lunch at Galangal, a few doors down from Kilim, which advertises 'street food' and you eat in an open courtyard in the middle of four kitchens preparing different kinds of food. I had spring rolls and a kind of fried omelette.
Back in Saigon for 24 hours before departing Vietnam, I spent an evening in the Majestic Hotel's M bar
(rooftop bar) where I had a club sandwich and a couple of G&T's at outrageous prices. But it is another of the great iconic hotels of Vietnam's pre-Communist era. Graham Greene wrote about it, and during the war the journalists used to gather up on the roof to drink beer and watch the shelling across the river.
On my last day in Saigon I visited the famous
Cholon wholesale market which was an impenetrable swarm of Chinese
commercial frenzy. Old women scurried about with fists full of
banknotes, traders punched out numbers on calculators at the speed of
light, I stared in wonder at stalls full of unidentifiable produce. This was not a market for kwailo tourists. Some serious business was going down here.
My last meal in Vietnam was in Achaya Café where I went for an iced
coffee and ended up staying for lunch. I finally got to try a 'Banh Mi' which is basically an overstuffed sandwich roll, the name being a Vietnamisation of the French 'pain de mie', or white bread. The staff were absolutely charming and very chatty, and I left with a packet of Vietnamese coffee, a 'phin' individual coffee filter and instructions for making my own iced coffee. The secret is filtering the coffee very slowly with COLD water, and using a special brand of condensed milk called "Eternal Life" which can be found in oriental supermarkets. I awarded Achaya my personal "Best Iced Coffee in Vietnam" prize.
At the airport I had to get rid of my remaining local currency, so raided the gift shop. I had a few hundred thousand Vietnamese dong left and grabbed a packet of coffee to spend it on. the price was US$ 20, much more than I expected, but I put it down to the airport ripping off departing tourists. When I got home I examined the packet. It was Trung Nguyen Sang Tao 8, which, when I checked out on the internet, turned out to be .... made from beans ingested and shat out again by weasels.
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