Asia's ten greatest street food cities

So here's what I spent most of November and December working on. 9,000 words about 100 street foods in Penang, Taipei, Bangkok, Fukuoka, Hanoi, Singapore, Seoul, Xi'an, Manila and Phnom Penh.
Read more: Asia's 10 greatest street food cities | CNNGo.com

Vegetable stall in Hanoi

I meant to post this back in February when I took this, but was reminded when writing my post about Sucre today. Although this appears to be just a pile of vegetables in the middle of the street, there actually was a woman manning this stall--I took the picture when her back was turned.

Lunch at The Cart, Hanoi

On my last day in Hanoi--where I had somehow stayed for more than two weeks without even noticing--I had lunch at The Cart. The Cart was recommended to me by Hanoian-about-town Steve Jackson who is helping his lovely fiancée Loan run the place.


Steve and Loan (and Jenn Fell in the background)

I had a Number 1 "Ly Quoc Su Street," which was chicken live pate with cucumber, carrot and lettuce. It was a lovely cross between banh mi and something my Austrian faux-grandmother, Lollo, would have served me. If there's a woman who loves feeding people pate, it's Lollo--at least, whenever I think of going to Westchester to see her I think of pate and being "forced" to eat tons of delicious little treats.

Anyway, it was nice to have a fond memory of home while sitting in sweaty Hanoi, and Jenn gave two thumbs up to the coffee as well. The Cart is a great place to visit if you're looking for western-style sandwiches, coffee and desserts. Check their Twitter for daily specials.

The Cart is located 18 Au Trieu (but enter from street behind, opposite The Splendid Hotel), Hanoi

BBQ Chicken Street, Vietnam

I love it when cities have streets that are entirely dedicated to one thing. I like it even more when that one thing is food. There was duck soup street in Gwangju, Korea and bug and snack food street in Beijing and full-on food theme parks in Japan.

So when my pals Jenn and Joe told me about BBQ Chicken Street in Hanoi, Vietnam, I knew that was the place for me.



These pictures aren't very good, but perhaps give a sense of how dark it was. Not only have I not gotten better at using my camera but I've apparently gotten worse, and a very dark, smoky alley filled with chicken carcasses didn't improve my skills any. The place definitely isn't interested in lighting--and based on the various comments about hygiene in the New Hanoian that's probably for the best.

Ly Van Phuc is the street's real name, but the plethora of BBQ chicken dealers, spilling out from every restaurant into complex street seating arrangements, accounts for the more descriptive 'Chicken Street' moniker.



Here's how it works at Chicken Street. You sit down, and wonder what's going on for a while. There's a menu bolted to the wall somewhere, but you probably won't see it, and have to rely on Jenn's pidgin Vietnamese to order. "I don't know how to say wings!" she shrieks. Cue to start flapping your arms.

The scene at Chicken Street is pretty intense. There are dozens of dimly lit tables spilling from the sidewalk into the street. You'd call them tables if you were a four-year-old, anyway, because that's who they are sized for. Imagine a decent sized footrest. The accompanying stools are about four-to-six inches off the ground. This isn't the sort of ground that you particularly want to be six inches from--in addition to the usual grime and scurrying rats, there are piles of chicken bones. We don't need no garbage cans here (and to be fair, they do come sweep the bones up under your table before the next patron sits down).

After Jenn orders a few wings, a few legs, a few sweet potatoes, a few pieces of bread, bottles of bia Ha Noi--we sat back and waited. Eventually, it all showed up--the beer after much prodding which arrived warm with a dirty glass of ice to pour it into--and then, plate after plate of chicken and grilled bread that had been brushed with honey. For our first round of bread we weren't able to wait for the woman with this scissors--we didn't know about her, you see. But after watching us tear into our food a kind woman at the next table told us to wait, and the scissor woman would come and cut everything into more manageable pieces for us. Who knew that a chicken wing was three servings?



We all had bowls to squirt chili sauce in, and the chicken and honey-drenched grilled bread, once dipped in chili was heavenly.

"See how you feel tomorrow," Joe said ominously. But miraculously, I felt great.

Vietnam's take on ramen: spaghetti?

I was in a Vietnam supermarket, perusing the instant noodle section, when I saw Roma Xao Spaghetti. It's entirely possible that this exists in every culture, but I hadn't seen it before. I didn't have the stomach to buy it--I wonder if the noodles are the same as instant ramen? I can't imagine that this could possibly taste good, but then again, I did end up buying three or four instant ramens when I passed this one up.

More from Hoi An

I'm sort of reaching a stage of blog/journal/writing/keeping track of my budget weariness. I think this may be because I have been staying in dorms with no windows for the last three weeks. Anyway, this means that you, My Big Fat Face readers, have suffered. But now I have my own room and promise you a half dozen posts in the next two days.



Prawn wantons from Khu Am Thoc, the 'Area of Eating and Drinking' near the Hoi An Market. I am not sure if this is a local specialty as well, but I saw it all over town.



This was the most amazing cao lau I tried, and I tried probably half a dozen in Hoi An. This one was from a small stand in the market, and I went there on Eating Asia's recommendation. Robyn has written so much and so well about this cao lau that she has saved me the trouble of bothering to say anything about it. So read about it at Eating Asia.

Filled with mom's heart

I love my mom, and she's got a very big heart, but I don't know that I'd want to eat it inside a pastry.

Is there a doctor in the house?

Check out this little pucker that I found in my soup in Hoi An a few weeks ago. Anyone willing to venture a guess on what it might be? The mind reels.

Whatever the offending item might be, it was served with blood. Overall, soup seemed like the sort that would benefit someone with a cold. Absolutely riddled with iron and vitamins, and possibly a buttonhole.

The soup was the accompaniment to a plate of chicken rice. Not the most thrilling meal of my life, but for $1 and the opportunity to sit on a 4 inch plastic chair, I didn't say no.

And when I saw that I was only charged 2,000 dong more than the locals (in Hoi An, most tourists can expect to get charged triple for everything), I rejoiced. You can't win them all, but losing by 2,000 (about 11 cents) in Hoi An ain't bad.

Carved fruit and food that looks like animals

Not too long ago my pal Simon took me out to dinner at Tinh Gia Vien in Hue. It was, no lying, a bizarre place. They have a three set menus, priced at $15/20/25. Each one features a dazzling array of Vietnamese foods designed to look like animals.

Above is a chicken carved out of a pineapple with chilis for a beak and spring rolls for feathers.



The place is pretty nutty--Simon said it was like your eccentric great Aunt's house. There's a doll collection, polished stone collection, crystal collection. A lot of collections, basically, and a spooky olde-tymey vibe. Not necessarily the most gourmet meal of my life, but what they lacked in that department, they made up in the toads-croaking, we're in a giant colonial mansion and we are the only customers and god only knows what's going to be on the next plate department!

There was no one else there, apart from the toads. It was completely quiet except for when the waitress would silently glide up and deliver another course--there were eight in all.



Our pineapple lamp with various wontons and deep-fried goodies (including baby corn) sticking out of it.



Flowers on the table made from carrots and daikon.



Green papaya dragon



Phoenix made from papaya and cha lua (Vietnamese ham) with carrot, peas and egg on a bed of fried noodles.



And a fried rice turtle!

Tinh Gia Vien, 7K/28 Le Thanh Ton St, Hue City

Dong Ba Market, Hue, Vietnam

Hue's Dong Ba Market was reasonable motivation for me to get out of bed before 8am for once. The place is run almost exclusively by women--not ones quite as intimidating as the ones that run Busan's Jalgalchi Fish Market, but they still had me treading lightly in my flip flops. (Flip flops which have now given me tan lines on my feet, incidentally.)

Dong Ba Market has been in its current location, on the north bank of the Perfume River, since 1889. There are some things that place it in today's world: the endless scooters beeping and weaving around the tiny alleyways, the stalls selling nothing but counterfeit goods and the sea of conical hats marred only by the motorcycle helmets--but the rest is as it was a hundred years ago.























Dong Ba Market is located at the southeastern corner of the Hue Citadel. You can find more information on Dong Ba Market here.

Hue specialties: Bún bò Hue and Banh Khoai

I spent five sweltering days in Hue last week doing little else other than eating the specialties of Hue, learning to cook the specialties of Hue and whinging about the heat. Eating a hot bowl of soup on a blazing day is sometimes said to cool the body down. I haven't yet experienced that--generally I find myself sitting on some 6 inch high plastic chair sweating my ass off while being looked at pityingly by the locals.

But it's worth it for the bun bo Hue, the special noodle soup of the area. Beef bones are simmered for ages with lemongrass and chili powder, which gives it a special zing.

I took a cooking class where I learned how to make it--here's the recipe I was given:

Hue Beef Noodle Soup - Bún bò Huế

1. Beef bone
2. Beef
3. Fresh onion
4. Chicken powder
5. Chili
6. Fresh rice noodle
7. Water
8. Vegetable
9. Lemongrass

1. Pour water to pot and chicken powder, you wait when water bolting
2. Put all of the beef bone in pot till 50 minutes (longer is better)
3. Chopping some lemongrass in the soup
4. Put some fresh rice noodles and beef in the bowl
5. Take beef soup from pot to pour to bowl
6. Put some fresh onion on top of the bowl

Make of this recipe what you will. I took copious notes but will probably ditch them and work on my own recipe some day, as the restaurant that I got this recipe from wasn't the best bowl (but not the worst) of bun bo Hue that I tried. Incidentally, the picture above is not the one that I made. In the class they certainly left out some key ingredients in the recipe that they included in the actual making, like the side of banana blossoms, bean sprouts and cilantro, or the shrimp paste that no dish would be complete without. I spent the majority of the class asking questions that remained unanswered and wondering when I'd get to eat.



This is the Banh Khoai I made in my class. Robyn at Eating Asia has a wonderful piece about banh khoai with pictures by her equally talented husband David. They show it so well that I don't need to make the effort.

The only thing I had to add was that this, like many foods that I enjoy, is essentially deep fried. (Not entirely, but you do add about a half inch of oil to the pan after you've folded it over into an omelette shape.) I'm finally starting to cop on to why I'm chubbing up. But at least this dish, as with most others in Vietnam, comes with a healthy supply of fresh veg to compliment it.

I am soldiering on with the cooking classes, but wondering if I will remember any of it by the time I have a home again. I take notes, ask questions and once a month send my new recipes to my parents. Yesterday I got an email from my father: "If you come back to California, I think we need to share a T-Fal Activfry." He may just be right.

Another previously unknown fruit

On my early morning trip to Hue's Dong Ba Market the other day, I was confronted with the sight of yet another fruit I had never seen before. My companion was unable to clarify the situation for me, although she did say it is used to color other foods red. A little bit of internet research turned up the name of this strange fruit: gac. Uh, what?

Gac is also sometimes called baby jackfruit, spiny bitter gourd, sweet gourd, or cochinchin gourd.



I wasn't able to get any pictures of the inside of the fruit, but suffice to say it looked like a crime scene--this stuff is red. Check out some images here.

Although it pains me, I think I may have to become one of those people that travels with a pocketknife because otherwise I'm not going to be able to try all of these strange and mysterious fruits. Since I've already been busted going through airport security with a knife and two pairs of scissors in the last year, a real blade can't be any worse, right?

Quan An Ngon

No trip to Ho Chi Minh City is complete without the obligatory visit to Quan An Ngon. Quan An Ngon serves all of the street food favorites, made by small, individual "vendors" who specialize in one or two dishes. But instead of subjecting you to the indignity of eating on plastic chairs six inches off the ground (and the rats are at least four inches tall) in 95 degree weather, they serve it all up to you in a giant French colonial mansion with shaded porch tables and, if you're lucky, a fan aimed at the back of your head.

The weather in Saigon was so hot that I was unable to muster up more energy than it took to waddle downstairs and and get a bowl of hủ tiếu (which I had thought was pho, but was actually its more subtle cousin). But I had heard from a variety of sources that Quan An Ngon was worth a visit.

And it was, if only to get me off those plastic stools for a few hours. It's a great restaurant for those who don't get a thrill from spending days chasing down obscure dishes from random street vendors with varied approaches to hygiene. If you've ever thought, "I'm not going to eat meat that's been sitting in a plastic case attached to some dude's bike in the sun all day," this is the place for you.

Of course I don't operate that way, the more putrid the pâté the more of it I want on my bánh mì, but I'm living in an alternate reality--traveling for a year is definitely not the real world. I believe that my body needs to man up, and subjecting it to the local water and the rancid meats is the best way to make that happen. But I recognize that others don't feel this way, so Quan An Ngon is a great introduction to Vietnamese street food in a safe and sane environment for people who don't take great pleasure in sitting on the sidewalk.

As with most places in Vietnam, the service is horrendous but the smoothies are lovely.



Bún thịt nướng, one of my favorite and most simple Vietnamese dishes. Cold vermicelli noodles, fresh vegetables topped with hot barbecued pork and served with the ubiquitous nước chấm sauce, made of fish sauce, sugar, chili, daikon radish and carrots. I never get sick of this one.



Snails steamed with lemongrass.



Some sort of prawns served with chili salt. Simon actually ordered something else but ended up with this, so we don't know what it's called. I was also unclear as to whether one is supposed to remove the shells before eating, or whether the roughage makes it all worth it. I left him to deal with it.



Each table is a small kitchen set up to make just a few dishes. There are more than a dozen.



It's not street food for connoisseurs, and it's still worth eating on those tiny plastic chairs on sidewalk, but is worth a visit if you only have a few days in town or if you prefer to eat at table with relatively clean cutlery.

You can find Quan An Ngon at 160 Pasteur St, Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam

Mustard Leaf Soup with Minced Pork Recipe

Due to an incredibly vague itinerary (will we go to Laos tomorrow? Hanoi? Cambodia?) I thought I should jump on a cooking class the minute I arrived in Vietnam and didn't do my usual waffling and recommendation roundup. I ended up taking a class in Saigon that was as different from the last cooking class I took in the Philippines as thin is to fat.

I've taken a lot of cooking classes in the last year, and there are a few distinct kinds. Mainly they fall into two categories. Ones for people that cook and ones for people that don't. This one, done by Vietnam Cookery was definitely for the latter group, it was more of a daytime activity for people too lazy to go on one of those Mekong tours. All the ingredients are pre-chopped and the class basically included assembling the dishes with minimal participation.

This suited my two classmates just fine. They were a college student and her befuddled father, who looked around every few minutes, in constant surprise that he, of all people, was in a cooking class. I've never seen such a complete lack of both culinary and listening skills--it was sort of adorable but definitely set the tone for the class which was basically a rush to get lunch on the table.



Which wasn't a bad thing, really, because lunch was delicious. We made fresh spring rolls with a mung bean sauce. I've always loved these spring rolls and have made them before, but it's always nice to get more practice rolling them. One of my favorite things about Vietnam is the street food, and these salad rolls (goi cuon) are being hawked on street corners like crack.

Women crouch on the sidewalk in Saigon with the ingredients on a tray in front of them and make them to order when you walk up. Some of them have a small bbq and grill meats to put in them while you wait. My dream job!



We also made clay pot ginger chicken Gà Ram Gừng  in caramel syrup, fish sauce, spring onions, ginger, garlic, pepper and sugar. It's marinating here (we didn't eat it raw).



My favorite dish, though, was mustard leaf soup with minced pork (Canh cai xanh thit bam). My feelings may have been influenced by the fact that I hadn't had a single vegetable in the two weeks previous in the Philippines (does tapioca count?), but this soup was fantastic. Simple, fresh and incredibly easy to make, I know I'll be making this whenever I have a run-in with a kitchen again.

Mustard Leaf Soup with Minced Pork - Canh cai xanh thit bam

Ingredients:
200-300g mustard greens
50-100g minced pork
500 ml cool water
1 teaspoon salt
2 teaspoon sugar
2 teaspoon chicken powder
1 teaspoon fish sauce
black pepper
coriander

1. Wash mustard greens thoroughly, cut into 2 inch pieces. Separate stems and leaves and let dry.
2. Cook minced pork in a frying pan, make sure to separate into small pieces.
3. Bring water to a boil in a small pot. Add the minced pork to the boiling water, season with salt, sugar and chicken powder to taste. Skim off scum to keep broth clear.
4. Add greens--stems first and then leaves and cook until tender, one or two minutes.
5. Turn heat off and add 1 teaspoon of fish sauce. Garnish with a pinch of black pepper and chopped coriander.

This dish should be served with steamed rice and compliments some of the saltier Vietnamese dishes.