Stickyrice

Cow House

Red meat eaters salivate at the mere mention of this specialty beef house out on the dyke road continuation just beyond the Sofitel Plaza. It's packed solid for lunch and dinner seven days a week. I've been chowing down on the cow here for a solid five years or more and, as far as steak-houses go, I'd be shocked to find anything better anywhere in the capital.

Getting a berth at a table is the hard part. It's a bit dog-eat-dog to be honest as there's no system for making reservations nor a stroppy maitre de to muscle customers into line. Beady eyes, sharp elbows and a fast sprinting wide arse have more than once been deployed by this customer to mark some territory in this establishment. Thankfully it all runs smoothly thereafter.

There's a clear division of labour based on gender. Boys cook cows and girls serve them in this joint, the whole act overseen by a very astute couple who are never far away from the cash tin. The kitchen is smaller than the average home kitchen, yet six to eight boys clad in chef gear manage to bump around the grills, woks and salad prep area churning out dozens of plates an hour.

Bits of cow are slapped on all but the side plates of salad.

Because I haven't consulted my cuts of beef chart recently, I can't elaborate on exactly what the bits are. Let me just say that there are long rolls of beef stuffed with ham and melted cheese (bo cuon pho ma), there is diced beef stir-fried with pepper and onion (bo luc lac) and there is the good old standard beef steak with chips and bread to mop up the gravy (bi tet). These are the flag-bearers for me but the simple menu of photos (no prices!) exhibits many more beef dishes, including a spag bol (my y), and allows those of us with rudimentary Vietnamese to simply point to order.

This cow house is a place where meat eaters can congregate and rejoice!

Cow Tab

One serve pho cuon pho ma, one of bo luc lac, side plates of chips, salad and rice, several beers - around the 500,000VND mark (USD$29.20, AUD$36.20)...for four big eaters!

Chien Beo
192 Nghi Tam
Nghi Tam

The Vina Buffet

The ubiquitous com binh dan restaurant is the lunch experience that Hanoian workers gravitate toward, whether they toil carting coal, selling lychees or pushing a pen in a government office. Translating roughly as "rice at a reasonable price", these lunch outlets replicate the home-cooked meal which, not all that long ago, most Vietnamese returned home to consume.

But life is busy these days and times have certainly changed in this developing country. Going home for lunch with mum, where there could be some nagging about housework or the boyfriend or a dish one doesn't like but she insists on making or a stint with the dish cloth...all this can now be avoided.

Because there is a bit of money about and the streetside Vina buffet is inexpensive.

Like at home, rice is central at these eateries and it is served in big old communal buckets when eating with the colleagues and only slightly smaller ones when eating on one's Pat Malone. The latter is rare as the Vietnamese consider the lone diner a cause for concern, even pity.

I am far from concerned as I make myself known to the buffet choices. Pork is done all ways; there are fatty slices of boiled pig, ribs caramelised and juicy, pork with crackling, mince stuffed in tomatoes, bits from inside stir-fried and turmeric stained trotters not trotting anymore. The pig is dead but very well-utilised! Chickens have lost their heads, too, their flesh also figuring pretty prominently. Stewed eggs, omelettes and tofu offer a respite from the meatfest, with vegie content coming in the form of standard water spinach and steamed cabbage served with boiled egg and soy sauce. Snails, squid scattered with dill and a soup containing bitter melon round out the selections.

Do not take pity on me. I don't have time to talk.

Com Binh Dan
Dinh Liet St
Old Quarter

Pretty Food

It could be a delicate celebration dessert, the invention of some enfant terrible in a Michelin starred kitchen. The gastro-poetry might allude to raspberry coulis, hints of mint, crushed peanuts, lime. Creme fraiche could be dolloped on top. The restaurant critic might describe it as risky, triumphant or crazy.

But currently I am not of that world.

I am in the goat restaurant.

The crimson circle before me is drained from this hollow-horned mammal. Bottled in used la Vie plastic, it is poured into the bowl over a diced mix of other goat bits, mostly chewy ones, and clipped up coriander. Peanuts and lime juice finish out this delicacy, known as tiet canh de.

I have eaten blood of goat.

Nha Trang Seafood

The seafood restaurants of Nha Trang line the main drag, Tran Phu St, among hotels big and small, starred and starless. A mere fifty or so metres from the shore-breakers of Vietnam's most renowned beach, these eating houses are close to the source.

A fifteen minute scooter ride around the coast, away from the hum of the town traffic and the neon blur of the night scape, the seafood places continue to dot the beach road. At night, the fluoro lights of the squid fishing boats float on the horizon. Palm fronds waver.

And I scoff...

...large crustaceans which had been tip-toeing across the glass bottom of their tank but 15 minutes before. As I wait for them to cool down and stop staring at me with those beady black eyes, the waitress squeezes my lemon wedge into a ramekin of salt and pepper. This is the best treatment for these simply steamed prawns - no heavy sauces required. After offing their heads, legs and jackets, I dip them and pop them in my mouth, poo-tube and all!

The produce lured by last night's squid expedition is brought to table next. This squid is not delicate little calamari rings dusted in flour but rather the whole creature deep fried and cleavered. The tentacles end up being deliciously crunchy while the pieces of sack are meaty yet not chewy. The simple dipping sauce is mixed at the table with a chopstick: mayonnaise and ut toung (red chili sauce). I'm addicted to this simple combination and my annual excursion to Nha Trang is not complete without it.

The exquisite prawn salad above rounds out the main dishes of our order.

And here I am, a month later, dribbling at the memory, wishing I could pull a lever and transport myself there right now.

Shell Out

Squid x 2, prawns, prawn salad, green salad, rice crackers, several beers - 350,000VND (USD$22.10, AUD$23.50)

Bien Tien Hai San
ride 3km north out Tran Phu St
( it's on the left )
Nha Trang

Black Chicken Hot Pot

My Vietnamese mates lured me to sit with them around a hot pot in the hills last weekend. Normally I would baulk at such a meal as the gastronomic part of the experience is, to be honest, not particularly to my liking. I do understand the socio-cultural and economic aspects of this kind of dining, that it's fun to shoot the breeze, 'cook' for your friends, get a stomach full and pay virtually nothing when the bill arrives. I don't get why the soup has to constantly be at a temperature that would melt steel or why the ingredients have to be boiled until all colour and nutritional value are lost and the resultant morsels are hot and tough rubber in my mouth.

I acquiesce. They're my friends.

And we're in Sapa, territory of the mythical ga den (black chicken) - so this is not just an ordinary hot pot! Apparently high in anti-oxidants and with other medicinal properties, these birds are 'prescribed' in Hanoi, too, jammed into coke cans with herbs and seeds. At Fansipan restaurant, the black chook gets the chop and takes a dive into the pot, which contains a soup rich in colour and flavour; tomato, onion and Chinese mushrooms floating on its surface.

A big plate of greens is delivered for dunking, too. Bricks of two-minute noodles constitute the carb element, as is the norm with hot pot modus operandi. My mates and I play with the greens and chew on Chinese mushrooms as the black chicken bits take some heat.

Said by some to be gamier than regular chicken, the skin and bones I lifted to my mouth had very little to recommend it. Any flesh I did come across was sinewy and flavourless, in dire need of a dipping in the salt, pepper, lime and chili to make it part-way palatable.

The hot pot disappoints again.

But, of course, there's always the socio-cultural and economic benefits!

Economic Benefits

One ga den hot pot, half a dozen bottles of Halida beer - 220,000VND (USD$13.65, AUD$15.55)

Fansipan Restaurant
Cau May St
Sapa

Flash Noodle House

Flash noodle houses don't do much for me.

Bun Ta overlooks serene Hoan Kiem Lake on one side and the constant chaotic scrum of skinny Dinh Liet Street on the other. The location is prime. The rent must be astronomical.

My substantial roll of dong gets me a view and neon green and gold threads in posh crockery. There's open space, contemporary art on the walls, an island bar, lots of stylish locals in designer labels, 10 million dong mobile phones positioned at the ready on glass table tops.

If the table tops were smeared a bit and the floors were crudded up with tattered wet serviettes, I'd feel more at home. I mean, the waitresses look smart and don't shout. Something is seriously afoot. There's even a bloody menu in this "everything is bun" noodle joint. And here lies the major concern. A ten to twelve thousand dong bowl of noodles is thrice the price here. A four thousand dong bottle of Coke is twenty here. A one thousand dong glass of iced tea is five here. That's it - I'm calling consumer protection!

Pity of it is that the grub's half decent - but I'll be returning to the gutter tomorrow.

Bun Ta
Dinh Tein Hoang/Cau Go
Old Quarter, Hanoi

Danang Seafood

Wherever there's a seabreeze, I hog into seafood.

Danang is a port city on the Han River about 19km up the road from the ancient port town of Hoi An. Boatloads of prawns, clams, squid and fish are plundered from the nearby South China Sea, a fair whack of which must end up at this seafood shed not far from the river.

After a windy, rainswept ride spent behind a sand truck and some dealings at the Vietnam Airlines office, thirst and hunger were uppermost in my thoughts, leaps and bounds ahead of any sightseeing in Danang. Is there actually anything to see? Not much, if the tour undertaken as a result of snippets of directions gained from an argument between a banana seller and a scrap metal salvager under a bridge are anything to go by.

Just when I thought I'd have to get the old LP out, the seafood joint recommended by VGod's mate in Saigon came into view. Inside, the ground floor's crowded up with crates of beer and soft-drink, big plastic basins of prawns in iced water and fan waving grill ladies putting some heat into the seafood.

Led upstairs and presented with big frosty bottles of San Miguel without asking, we knew we were in the right place. A simple laminated strip of blue paper champions simply prepared dishes where the sea creatures are the stars. The order went in, an old granny slipped us a couple of rice crackers the size of dinner plates in exchange for a few thousand dong and we chewed them and guzzled beer until the grub arrived.

An enjoyable half hour of seafood indulgence ensued. Grilled squid served with a mayonnaise and chili dipping sauce, clams steamed with lemongrass and chili and huge grilled prawns served simply with a salt, pepper, chili and lime dipping sauce made their way to the table.

Discarded prawn heads and shells and empty beer bottles resulted. The findings were conclusive

Danang seafood rocks!

Quan Ba Thoi
96 Le Dinh Duong
Danang

Jumpers and Wrigglers

With daring Pathfinder editor Helen Clark in tow a few weeks back, I finally had an insect-eating partner. It was a trip involving authentic journalistic research (thanks Helen!), a few dodgy recommendations that proved fruitless (thanks Sticky!) and half a tank of fuel. Catch the co-write in the latest Pathfinder and my words here:

Finally, our endeavours to net a plate of insects ended successfully, if not rather pitifully. Biking through Hanoi’s notorious spring mua phun (drizzle), armed with a tiny notepad upon which a hastily sketched series of bugs, a pair of chopsticks and the words con trung (insects) had been scribbled, we pulled up outside one promising establishment.

Negotiations took place in a combination of halting Vietnamese, hand signals, raised eyebrows and looks of wonderment. An affirmative response resulted and before long we were passing through the ground floor of this ruou dan toc (rice wine restaurant), the walls of which are lined with large clay jars of distilled liquor.

Upstairs, we entered the cosy ambience of this traditional wine house, called Chum 1. Dim yet warm, yellow light shone from lanterns on the walls, flat bamboo sieves and shallow baskets hung from the ceiling. As we kicked off our shoes and settled onto rattan floor cushions at our low corner table, a waiter appeared with menus and a newly ‘recruited’ fellow patron as translator. The English menu was a dumbed down, sanitised version of the real thing, a document lacking in precisely the six-legged critters we were there to sample. Ha, our translator, procured for us dishes of the two types of insect exotica on offer. She also admitted that such fare was not particularly to her liking but was unable to provide a particularly plausible reason. The mystery of how they would actually taste deepened.

Satisfied that, against odds and outside insect season, we had managed to get a bug order to a kitchen, we took in the relaxed atmosphere and a cup or two of ‘Dutch courage’ in the form of ruou (rice wine). Recognised by the locals for its various medicinal properties, we opted conservatively for old bee rice wine and young bee rice wine while exchanging stories of more potent brews we had eyed or tried before. Distinguishing the difference between the old and the young was beyond my immature palate though, after the fire of the swallow, a mildly pleasant honey after-taste did ensue.

And then, as the drizzle floated more horizontally through the shuttered window above us, the insects also descended onto our table. There was no mistaking their form. These small grasshoppers (tom bay) came to the table as themselves, albeit surrounded on their white plate by a garnish of sliced tomato. The very obliging waiting attendants, in deference to our foreign origins, placed knives and forks at our disposal. Yet, somehow, delicately cutting tiny appendage, wing and thorax was too much like a biology lab class for us. We pincered them whole, with chopsticks.

Attempts had been made in the kitchen to give these jumpers some flavour.  Obviously deep-fried in pig fat, they were served tossed with finely sliced chili and slivered lime leaves. A dipping sauce of squeezed cumquat juice, salt, pepper and chili added a further subtle dimension of flavour.  However, the experience here is all about texture. It is the complete mastication by one creature higher up the food chain of another and the texture is all crunch!

The other dish contained creatures further down the evolutionary scale: wriggly, segmented ones. Thankfully not presented as one squirming mass of pink thread, they arrived incognito, embedded in a cakey omelette and shrouded in herbs, barely noticeable to the eye. Cut into bite-size squares and dipped in a standard nuoc cham, (fish sauce-based dipping sauce), this worm omelette was a texture contrast, seriously sodden and mushy in the mouth, with the unidentifiable flavour, probably attributable to the worms (cha ruoi), being a bit of a gag activator. They got left cold and left us cold.

As a gastronomic experience, the jumpers came out well ahead of the wrigglers. Next insect season, we go in search of bigger jumpers, crickets and scorpions.

Chum 1

46 Chau Long, Truc Bach.

Ba Dinh District
Hanoi

Hot Pot Shed

Out on the dyke road near the Sheraton, not far from the hound houses, there is a huge noisy shed, concrete floored and tin roofed. An intimate meal can't be had here. Metal chairs get scraped across the floors and there's a fair amount of shouting and carry-on with incessant toasting of beer and rice wine. It's a popular shed, this one.

A popular hot pot spot, a cook-your-own (CYO) ordeal, for which I reckon the customers ought to be paid for doing the work and enduring the trauma it induces. It's ok to begin with. Novel, actually.

A cart loaded up with prawns, beef, squid, cockles, chicken, heart, offal, vegetables, tofu and all manner of vegetables is wheeled around this joint. Patrons sit at tables with holes in them. In these holes, some kind of portable gas cooker arrangement is lodged and lit. This is where so much can go wrong.

With utensils and heat controls that don't function in the way they do in my kitchen, we set about on a course of destruction, of ruination of good ingredients, of flames too high, of sticky cooking surfaces, of black frazzled inedibles, of over-boiled toughness and burnt roofs of mouths!

The trolley did another lap, luckily. The chance of redemption presented itself in the form of new platefuls of ingredients and a waiter-saviour to teach us a few basics in how not to balls-it-up a second time. He gave us tips on flame control, one technique for oiling up the not non-stick griddle plate and the ingredients before placing them on and one technique for holding down the live prawns so we could barbeque them alive! Not sure if the prawns were so appreciative of his assistance.

After a successful stint at grilling, the hole in our table was inserted with a split cauldron of boiling hot pot juice, one side spiced up with a chili sate paste, the other plain stock. Water cress, mustard leaves, bean curd skin, okra and the remaining trolley fixings went in with a couple of bricks of instant noodles. Before long, we had ourselves a bowl of carbs, greens and soup to finish.

The William

Three Hanoi beers, lots of plates from the cart, a play on the griddles plate and a paddle in the hot pot - 186,000VND (USD$11.60, AUD$14.40)

Lau Tu Xuyen
Au Co St
Nghi Tam

New Year's Quiz

I'm not shocked anymore at the things that turn up on my table when I dine with Vietnamese mates. I do get a slightly nervy rush, however, when I put these 'bits of stuff' to my lips. I say 'bits of stuff' because sometimes I'm not sure what I'm eating.

Lips? Grass? Belly-buttons? Eyes? Arseholes?

Let's have another quiz!

What are the ingredients on this plate, devoured not so long ago at a bia hoi restaurant?