GO WITH THE PHO

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.

 

WAKE UP AND SMELL THE STRAWBERRY FRAPPUCCINO

By Daphne Wayne-Bough

Coffee is not the average Belgian's first thought when he/she walks into a bar or café, to be honest.  Beer is a more likely choice.  Until recently there was no real difference between a bar and a café here, the terms were interchangeable, and most of them serve food in one form or another as well.  In a regular bar, a latte is known as a "lait russe" (Russian milk) because it is served in a glass, and whether you order 'un café' or 'un café au lait' you will get a black filter coffee with a small pot of milk on the side and a speculoos biscuit or a chocolate.  Most bars also serve Italian style (emphasis on the style, not on the “Italian”) coffee such as espresso or cappuccino.   Service is not as speedy as in Paris or as friendly as in New York.  Foreigners constantly complain about the slow, surly waiters and waitresses in Brussels cafés.   In the end, it all depends what you’re looking for:  if it’s beautiful surroundings, you might have to go without free wi-fi.  If it’s a view, you might get appalling service.  And in most cases, the coffee will be nothing to write home about.

Starbucks has just taken hold in Brussels, meaning it's several years behind London in café culture.  Cold drip coffee, for example, has not yet made an appearance here.  Brussels is still at the Central Perk stage, a comfy seat in a coffee shop is a relatively new thing.   They tend to judge a coffee experience still by the quality of the coffee in the cup, which as any barista knows, is the last thing a good coffee bar thinks about.  It's all about the lifestyle experience, and one must dress the hipster if one is going to hang out reading Philippe Djian on one's iPad whilst sipping overpriced mediocre coffee with a flower drawn on the froth.  For men, tweed cap, waistcoat and jeans topped off with a white silk scarf knotted loosely at the neck like a pashmina are the appropriate uniform.  Women can get away with anything, as long as they have a copious and expensive handbag.  

Classic cafés

Café Belga, on place Flagey 18, is what the French always refer to as “incontournable”, which roughly translates as “a classic”.   Built into the ground floor of the iconic original RTBF building, it is THE place to stop for a coffee or a beer after a hard Sunday morning gathering handmade olive bread, sundried tomatoes or organic mushrooms from the weekend market on the square.   

Fans of Jacques Brel should drop in to Le Cirio on Place de la Bourse, which JB used to frequent. There is a photograph of him on the wall at the back, taken in the cafe.  They serve tea and coffee, but the house speciality is "Half en Half" - half champagne, half white wine.

http://www.tripadvisor.com/Restaurant_Review-g188644-d2032109-Reviews-Le_Cirio-Brussels.html     


Just up the road on Place de Brouckère is the Café Metropole with its gorgeous art deco interior, recently renovated and renamed.     Sit and watch the world go by from the open terrace overlooking the square that Jacques Brel mentioned  in one of his songs, "Bruxelles".

 


Surrealist cafés

La Fleur en Papier Doré, (Het Goudblommeke in Flemish)  55 rue des Alexiens, where the early surrealists used to hang out, is a piece of history, where you could find yourself sitting in the same seat once occupied by Magritte or Hergé.

Cultural cafés

Some of the nicest cafés in Brussels are in museums.  The café-restaurant in the Belgian Comic Strip Centre offers food and drinks whimsically named after famous comic strip characters such as Tintin.  It is also a beautiful room in this gorgeous art deco building designed by Victor Horta, Belgium's art deco maestro.

The Flemish Library at the Munt, known as the MuntPunt, has a trendy café bar at the back, the Grand Cafe, with an entrance on Rue des Dominicains.  Full of Flemish hipsters complaining there is not  enough ginger in their chai latte, with free wi-fi and cool Cuban music.  Sometimes has live events.

 Gratuitous picture of froth kitten to prove how irrelevant 

the quality of coffee has become

Cafés with a view

One of the best views in Brussels can be had from the café on the top floor of the Museum of Musical Instruments or MIM, in another beautiful art deco building, which has a fabulous roof terrace.  Sunday brunch on a summer day is a must.  The Museum is pretty good fun too.   http://www.mim.be/the-restaurant

And if its views you're wanting, the café at the very top of the Atomium (our answer to the Eiffel Tower) is unmissable - which is more than can be said for the coffee.

People-watching

The coffee might be nothing special in Brussels, but the cakes are worth the detour.  Cafe Wittamer on Place du Grand Sablon specializes in home made macarons in lots of exciting flavours.  The square also boasts several top chocolatiers, including the uber-trendy Pierre Marcolini and an antiques market on Sundays.  The Sablons is people-watching heaven.  Hipsters mingle with antique dealers and tourists to sip aperitifs and cast a critical eye on the wealthy passers-by in their Chanel suits and matching miniature poodles.

Sunday is also the day to visit Les Marolles, the oldest district of Brussels, where the flea market and the second-hand furniture and antique shops are open all day.  Around the flea market at Place Jeu de Balle (where Tintin found the model ship in The Secret of the Unicorn, on which Spielberg based his film)  are a number of popular cafés and restaurants which are great for people-watching, especially if the weather is clement.  

In summer try and get down to the Bois de la Cambre, the beginning of the vast Forest of Soignes  at the bottom of the chic Avenue Louise.  In the middle of the park is a lake, and in the middle of the lake is a cafe called Le Chalet Robinson, which can be reached by a motorised raft. http://www.chouxdebruxelles.be/en/venue_chaletrobinson.html

Bean to cup

The Flemish have historically taken their coffee a bit more seriously which is to be expected,  since Antwerp is the world’s biggest coffee port.  Flemish coffee shops – not to be confused with Amsterdam coffee shops, which are something different entirely – are finding their way down to Brussels, and about time too.

Ghent coffee specialists Or Coffee Roasters now have two coffee bars in Brussels now, one at Rue Auguste Orts 9 in trendy St Géry, the second on equally hip Place Jourdan 13a.  Many varieties of freshly-ground coffee are available to savour in faux-industrial surroundings. 

If you want to know about coffee, ask an Italian.  The Italian I asked told me that in his opinion the best coffee in Brussels was Ethiopian coffee house Aksum at rue des Eperonniers 60 in the old town near the Grand’Place.  Aksum is too cool for its own good, run by an Ethiopia-obsessed Finn.



And talking of Ethiopia, Ethiopian restaurant Toukoul has an Ethiopian coffee ceremony every afternoon on a weekend, performed by a charming Ethiopian lady in traditional dress. 

Corica (Comptoir oriental des cafés) in Rue Marché aux Poulets 49, just off Anspach, is an unprepossessing little place with no seating – you stand at the bar – but the best selection of coffees in town.  This is where you can taste that Jamaican Blue Mountain your dad always told you about, Sumatran Java, Ethiopian Harar or Zambia Elephant Coffee.  (Hopefully not made the same way as Vietnamese weasel coffee).

(Nothing to do with real coffee, but if you really can't manage without your Tall Flat Strawberry Mocha, there are now several branches of Starbucks in Brussels now – three at the airport alone, one at the Gare du Nord, the Gare Centrale, inside Rogier metro station near the Gare du Nord, and – sacrilege! – now on the Grand’Place).


In the slipstream of Starbucks, some real “coffee bars” have seen the light of day recently , and the brunch/teatime scene has developed a new dimension.  Café Jat’ and Workshop Café at 28 and 87 Rue de Namur respectively, are pleasant, airy spaces with comfy sofas where you can have brunch, lunch, drinks, meet a friend or just sit and read the papers (on your Kindle) (my next piece will be entitled “How to be a Brussels Hipster”).  

Chic Avenue Louise boasts the original Workshop Café at no. 146,  Natural Caffé at no. 196a  (at the Lesbroussart tram stop) and Café de la Presse  at no.493 down near the Bois de la Cambre.  Natural Caffé have just opened two new branches at Schuman (rue Breydel 50) and Mont des Arts 20.  

Finally, following my triumphant tour of 'Nam, where I became addicted to Vietnamese iced coffee, there is one place in Brussels where you can actually sample it.  Of course it doesn't taste the same in Brussels weather, but Vietnam Express on Rue de la Paix just off Place St Boniface will run you up a fair approximation of a cà phê sữa đá. 

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Listings:

http://www.smarksthespots.com/brussels/cafes/

http://www.oubruncher.com/brunch-bruxelles.php