Stickyrice

Lick

Stickyrice is coming up to summer number three in Vietnam with not one mention of ice-cream. This is a post of rectification. It has been remiss of me. There are some famous ice-creameries in the capital which I'll be licking at later, but the specimen above was consumed beach-side in Nha Trang.

It's a coconut, filled with three or four different flavours (banana, chocolate, orange, vanilla, taro....), crushed nuts, maraschino cherries and shredded coconut. Implements to work the ice-cream include a rolled wafer and a spoon, doubly useful as a scraper of the fresh coconut flesh from the inside of the nut. A glass of juice from the said nut is delivered alongside to cleanse the palate afterwards.

During this experience, I re-visited my childhood.

There is a simple excitement about ice-cream, isn't there? I didn't care that it dripped on my shirt, that I had an ice-cream moustache and sticky hands.

Little Balls

On a post-lunch ride to the wall with the god yesterday, I struck a long-faced, pith-helmeted bloke with a bike, a set of scales and bunches of balls. Red and yellow balls. Meticulously bunched, from a distance they resembled malnourished lychees. Up close, on the corner of Ba Trieu and Nguyen Du streets, where this bloke works in tandem with some pink rose sellers, the fruit's altogether berry like.

Grown in Ha Dong on the outskirts of Hanoi in the summer, I hadn't clapped eyes on these in four previous hot seasons. Purchasing fruit in Hanoi is a 'try-before-you-buy' experiment, a bit of bluff and negotiation, a raised voice, a smile and, all being well, an agreement. Our vendor clipped off a sample of his wares which we duly popped in our fruit holes.

The flesh is yellow, sweet like a ripe plum but there's not much of it. Most of this berry is a big pip, some of which you can see scattered about on the road in the photograph. In Vietnamese, they go by the name of soan dao (dao meaning peach).

In English, your guess is as good as mine?

Heat Treatment

The slightest puff of breeze on a perspiring body, the chill in the air beside the water-works on the dyke road, an icy cold bottle of beer, a drenching in a downpour, pulling the motorbike to a halt under the shade of a tree at the traffic lights. Any simple action or moment that relieves the oven-hot heat of Vietnam's capital in summer is one to cherish.

This tangy hit of sweet house-made yoghurt, loaded up with crushed ice, is available here for 2500VND.

It's cool.

Fire Balls

By mid-summer, every Hanoian has just about eaten their bodyweight in lychees. A darker shade of red than their predecessors in the season, these balls are ripe, luscious and downright sexy for the eating. Sold in meticuluosly arranged bunches off the back of bicycles, by sheer weight of numbers they win the summer fruit race.

Lychees are a hot yang fruit, meaning over-indulgence tips the body's balance. Uglification can result in the form of pimples, dried lips and mouth ulcers!

I ate a ton last week.

Anyone want a kiss?

Holy Water

A market wander ensued this AM. Amongst the pigs trotters, blood-spattered fish chunks and slippery pink intestines, this serene font of holy water appeared. Before I knew it, I was genuflecting before an altar of che with these floral floaters as the centrepiece.

Che is an icy sweet concoction I've been known to spoon down in the past. It's a motley mongrel dessert number with lots of coloured ricey, beany, sago-y, agar-y, sugary, coconutty, fruity bits shoved hard in a glass with crushed ice - quite nice!

This flower juice must be a seasonal variation. While I botched up my order, younger brother flung older sister a small plastic bag full of florets, half of which were dropped in the liquid, the other left in the bag and kept on the ice. I got the motley mongrel glassful and the flowers remain a bit of a mystery. My olfactories were saying jasmine but my mind says ask for help.

What do you reckon?

Springvale Che

Che is purveyed in plastic in the market auditoriums of Springvale, a suburb 23 km south-east of Melbourne. It is a centre for all things Vietnamese, with lashings of Saigon atmosphere, ingredients for every Vietnamese dish available (except maybe Fido!), even a cafe den da on offer. If it wasn't for the slightly more sanitised surrounds and all the refrigeration, glass and stainless steel, one could be excused for being confused about one's location!

A Kilo of Baboons' Bums!

These are being carted about this suddenly stinking hot capital of Hanoi. They are pretty and, perhaps it's just the colour, but I can't get baboons' bottoms out of my mind!

I know I'm puerile and twisted!

Nevertheless, the question arises: What are they?

I've been told plums but there's no stone. The flesh is kind of fluffy, airy white nothing; fairy floss in a skin but not so sickly sweet. The skin varies in colour from pale green through to striking dark hot pink.

I have heard one quite nice name for them. Much better than baboons' bottoms anyway!

What do you reckon?

Mango-a-Go-Go

I did a doughnut through the Long Bien market during the week and was met by a million mangoes. It's the high season and these tropical ellipses are being traded with vigour. In the shadows of the Long Bien Bridge, which spans the Red River, this market is more wholesale than retail, more hardcore, more of a "keep out of the bloody way" kind of market. It was make way for mangoes on this particular day.

I witnessed one cartload of half a dozen crates being deposited, newspapers covering their contents and within seconds a swarming pack of fruit vendors was upon them. The minder of this booty was having a hard time defending his produce, even resorting to a slap here and an elbow there to keep these spirited women at bay. I was thinking these must be mangoes of gold, mangoes watered with the urine of an ancient king or mangoes grown in sun rays coming down at some auspicious angle to be creating such a fuss.

I elbowed my way into the action to check on the object of the commotion and, in doing so, created an even bigger stir. Picture this: tall dopey-looking blonde bloke, towering over the conical hats, lifting up the pages of the daily news to fondle green mangoes. And firm to rock hard they were.

I actually prefer to fondle yellow ones.

Mangoes are enjoyed underdone in Vietnam, given the chili salt treatment, served up in salads and, like green bananas, preferred for altar offerings to the ancestors because they last longer. Eaten raw, they'd be crunchy and sour - definitely, as Grandma used to say, pain in the tummy inducers. In a green mango salad, the fine slices are soaked in salty water which must draw out the tartness and the chili salt rub accentuates the sweetness.

The latter is a fine way to enjoy xoai (mango) but I'm still rather partial to the messy ripe ones like those in the top picture, the two cheeks cut off, segmented and bitten directly off the skin followed by the slippery munching of the flesh around the seed, juice oozing to the elbows.

Go the mango this summer in Hanoi. There's no shortage. Expect to pay between 15,000 and 20,000VND a kilo. (USD94c-$1.25, AUD$1.30-$1.70)

Hey there, Sexy Cakes!

These sensuous balls have their own day. It was on Friday, the third day of the third month of the lunar year. As is typical of food traditions in the capital, everyone who's anyone tries their hand at making or selling whatever the delicacy is. The currency on the streets of the old quarter on Friday was shiny, white and spherical. By day's end, I suspect that every Hanoian, at some stage, had had one or more of these balls rolling around on their tongue.

In a tradition that dates back to an ancient king, banh troi tau are made and bought to place on altars as offerings to ancestors and various deities. The locals fire up a few incense sticks, say a little prayer, proffer a little bow and the ceremony's complete. When the incense is a pile of powder on the floor, signifying that the ancestors have had their fill, frenzied consumption by mortals follows. I used to think that food laid on for the dearly departed went to waste. Not so!

However, as I skirted around the old quarter checking for ball action after an early lunch, it was evident that there were enough for every human, animal and insect ever to have graced the streets of Hanoi. Although banh troi tau are available throughout the year from a range of vendors, on Friday the ball purveyers had multiplied. Shops and sellers who normally flogged noodles or vegetables were selling the balls themselves or the ingredients to make them. It seemed that everyone was trying to get a cut of banh troi tau profit.

A lime white rice flour dough was being sold by the kilo, sugar syrup in plastic containers or BYO bowls and unrefined brown sugar cubes and sesame seeds by the handful. Getting the consistency of the dough right might prove problematic but the rest of the process is *ahem* a piece of cake. Flatten a small dollop of dough in the palm of the hand, place sugur cube on, wrap and roll to form a ball. Repeat until there is enough for the ancestors, gods and all living family members, drop into a pot of boiling water and retrieve with a slotted spoon when they come up for air. Put on plate, prettify with sesame seeds, prong with cake fork and deposit in eating hole.

Other ingredients to be found in these orbs include sesame paste, black sesame seeds, shredded coconut, ginger and green bean, all with sugar and all very sexy.

A serve of 15 balls on a plate will set you back a whopping 3000VND (USD18c, AUD26c). I had my balls in Thanh Ha street, around the back of the Dong Xuan market.

Truncated Cone of Custard

This little nuclear reactor of a creme caramel blew my socks off today. Before it slid down, I admired it for a full five minutes, from every angle, its shape and sheen, the buildings opposite reflected in its glassy brown, the ridges on the red plastic like ripples on a still lake. This truncated cone of custard had me mesmerized. It had me re-writing my personal definition of perfection. It had me thinking I was stoned! I almost couldn't eat it.

And then I stabbed it with the spoon, it bled caramel and was remorselessly spaded in.

A cold, clinical end, no doubt, but OH MY GOD that wobbly dessert thing was the finest of its ilk to ever pass my lips. Served at room temperature (how does that work when you're seated outside?), the silky texture and subtle burnt caramel flavour had me seduced. So, too, did the pavement position, backs to the wall of an old temple and across from a row of cake shops of a different kind.

The cake cabinet in front of this creme caramel cave was being delved into with regularity, bags being filled with iced sponges, log jam rolls and little eclair-like imposters. A cup of fresh yoghurt could be had, too. I'm not sure how the creme caramel got to be so good in Hanoi but it possibly had something to do with the French. As for this place, I'm pretty sure it isn't the schoolboy helpers who concoct this fine example, yet they can be sure that I'll be back for more.

The Drum

Three creme caramels (2000VND each), one yoghurt (3000VND) - 9000VND (USD55c, AUD75c)

Duong Hoa Kem Caramen
29 Hang Than St