Fine Dining?: The Most Delicious Illicit Market (VIETNAM - post 1 of 1)

Written March 31

The author's sister inadvertently forgot to post this - apologies!

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I've arrived at a point in my travels, now in my tenth country, where I've come to the realization, "Holy monkeys, I am tired." My ability to organize and articulate my thoughts has regressed to the level of monosyllabic descriptions, and the flow of conversation around the dining table consistently returns to the safest topic of what my friends and I have eaten or plan on eating in port that day. Accompanying my fatigue was a strong desire to leave the company of our massive touring group (over 700 strong) and the sculpted metropolis of Saigon (Ho Chi Minh City) for a quieter setting. Destination: Dalat and Nha Trang. But first, a quick plug for Vietnamese food.

I will be the first to admit that my views are entirely biased, but I believe Vietnam to be the motherland of the freshest, most appetizing and innovative cuisine in the world. Street vending is a more casual affair here compared with the disciplined structure of Thailand. Vendor-ladies shouldering two woven baskets hung from either ends of a wooden pole can be seen ambling amongst the perplexing traffic of motorbike scooters (xe may), autos, and fearless pedestrians. Miniature open air "restaurants" pop up in every conceivable location, decked out with colorful, toddler-sized stools and low, plastic tables. Airy French baguette sandwich carts display sliced, spiced meatloaf, creamy pate, julienned pickles, egg, and shredded dry pork from cramped window fronts. Everything is advertised in the Romanize Vietnamese script. Despite my illiteracy, I was smugly amazed by my knowledge of nearly every food term I came across. Language would not be a barrier to my feasting; I ate like a Queen.



DALAT
Dalat is a mountainous city six to seven hour away from Saigon by bus. Due to its higher elevation it escapes the overwhelming heat permeating the majority of the country and was even a bit chilly in the evenings. Street vending, which has tapered down severely in the commercial hub of Saigon, maintains a strong presence in the center of Dalat. By nightfall, hundreds of vendors amble out to the main market "Cho Da Lat" with baskets of steamed rice noodles covered in scallion oil, chewy steamed tiny rice flour cups sprinkled with dried shrimp, pot after pot of steaming soups and noodles in countless varieties, and steamed, baked, and grilled mollusks in half a dozen specie varieties. Traveling out of a backpack for a couple of months now gave me some perspective on the daily existence of vendors, with their livelihoods packed into a cart or two woven baskets.



LEGITIMACY
On the first evening touring the market in Dalat, I became curiously distracted when several vendors suddenly sprinted without warning to drag tables and cooking pots from the central plaza into alleyways and out of sight. It was almost as if someone had stopped the music for musical chairs and everyone was scrambling to find an empty seat; only in this case racing to remove the seats rather than occupy them. Moments later, a white police truck rolled belatedly into the plaza, as though it had been granting the vendors time to conceal their illicit businesses and casually block from view the lone remaining stove, still glowing with charcoal. My question of the legitimacy of the evening food market was immediately addressed.

The street vendors that flood the streets with vats of bubbling beef broth for hot "pho" noodles, or yellow oceans bobbing with enormous pork, crab, and shrimp meatballs of "bun rieu" likely all operate illegally. It is impossible to enforce a minimum standard for the cleanliness of food eaten inches above gut-scattered asphalt. However, the popularity of Vietnamese street food amongst locals, and increasingly international travelers as well, has brought street techniques into small, formal kitchens as an alternative venue.

VENDING TYPES
Street food can be divided into three types based on the mobility of the operations. Highly mobile vendors compete on novelty, convenience, and economies of scale, contrasting with stationary, (regional) specialty outlets. The former sector is dominated by middle-aged women working independently out of crude baskets balanced across their shoulders. They are recognizable from their conical bamboo leaf hats and are seen soliciting tourists and locals one-by-one for their penny-snack foods: coconut wafer pancakes (freshly griddled infront of you), crispy rice cracker wheels dotted with sesame and dried shrimp, and small sweet egg-cakes. On the slightly more futuristic (though no less chaotic) end of the spectrum, vendors have formalized into permanent, sit-down "restaurants", typically featuring one famous dish, which the restaurant is also usually named for. "Banh Xeo 46A," tucked off a cramped side street in Saigon, was one of such local hotspots. The same plastic stools and tables, quartet of chili and salty condiments, and toilet paper tissue dispensers resembled street-eats to the T (though on a larger scale), but more importantly the food was of the same delicious, authentic quality. I even forgave myself for being exploited by the taxi driver who delivered me to the hidden joint after my first mouthful of the crispy, hot, herb-wrapped roll of shrimp, fatty pork, and beansprout-stuffed coconut crepe.



The majority of street food vendors function in between these two vending types. They carry with them all the essentials needed to set up shop for the day (chairs, chopsticks, condiments, stove etc.) until they find a promising location where they'll stay to complete their shift or are else evicted by local authorities. It is from these countless vendors that most people eat their meals; breakfast, lunch, dinner, midnight snack, and the scene of some of the most exquisite dining in the world.



Note: Although I never had any problems myself, it is inadvisable to eat the ice from street vendors or in small local eateries. Judge the sketchiness of the foods for yourselves.

Bangkok, Thailand: The Mecca for Street Food (& Recipe) (THAILAND - part 1 of 1)

The evening before arriving in Thailand, we were challenged by a professor who had spent a year in Chiangmai in northern Thailand to capture a picture of a Thai child withOUT food in his or her mouth. Already my gastronomic expectations were set high.

Thailand is a place of two coexisting cultures: modernness paired with tradition. Bangkok houses some of the largest mall monstrosities I have ever encountered, surrounded by a moat of neatly organized street vendors selling everything from cheap clothing and accessories to every variety of snack food one might desire. Tuk tuks are as common a transportation means as the highly developed, impressive public transportation system that puts American metros to shame. Street food is no exception to the juxtapositions: rich and poor, locals and tourists, and even vendors bored with their own foods eat from the streets in Bangkok. I stood in line behind a student cradling a 35 baht ($1) noodle soup meal in one hand and a 100 baht Starbucks in the other.



Food is everywhere, or always within a mere five steps away; one can literally trip over food navigating this city. I fell comfortably into the national pastime of perpetual grazing while traveling in Bangkok. Vendors are stationed throughout the day and continuously offer the same foods, immune to scheduled breakfasts, lunches, or dinners. Repetition is not an issue however, as there are about a hundred options to choose from.

NOT SUPER INTUITIVE, BUT IT WORKS...
Despite being in the backpacker's central of Bangkok, vendors know very little English or other foreign languages, faltering with even the basics. This was hardly a deterrence, remedied by wooden placards painted with prices and single word menu descriptions such as "chicken, shrimp, tofu", hanging in front of an obvious pad thai (noodle) vendor. Four or five variety of noodles are mounded into a miniature mountain range along the top rim of a slightly concave, large disk cooking surface. Ordering involves a lot of gesturing and nodding. However faced with a breach of understanding, adopting sous chef and sprinkling in your own spice condiments while the vendor tosses the noodles together with egg and bean sprouts accomplishes the task fairly well.

Organization in the street vending industry is surprisingly advanced however. The arrangement of vendors is efficiently structured into neatly aligned rows parked side-by-side. In the evenings, entire streets will be blockaded and regulated by police for Bangkok's famous night markets to emerge. Vendors will usually stake out a specific spot (determined my rank, seniority, lottery, habit? who knows) to begin their evening and slowly travel half the length of the road over the course of the night. The entire affair is highly mobile. Midway through preparing my order of noodles, the vendor picked up his cart and began rolling away. I was momentarily stunned and then doubly so when I was nearly knocked over by the produce truck he was avoiding.



STREET PERFORMING & TRANSPARENCY
While I may have been impressed by the three-foot-stream method of preparing chai tea in India, Thai tea takes on a whole different meaning. One vendor entertained a crowd of customers with twirls and dancing as he juggled large mugs of the rich, adobe orange tea lightened with sweetened condensed milk and evaporated milk. Not to be outdone by the Indians, our man incorporated the waterfall method of mixing the tea with the sweetener and milk, flaunting his skill by preparing two orders of tea at once instead of one. This culture of food performance is common amongst vendors and while some embrace their artistic nature with greater exuberance, all are equally eager to please.

Cooking on-the-spot is another major distinction between Indian and Thai street foods. Carts are specifically designed according to the type of food offered and are usually equipped with a gas stove on one end and a flat prep work space filling the remaining area. Certain items are prepared in advance, steamed rice, noodles for stirfrying, and broths for soup, but the majority of cooking is done on site, including frying fishballs (a major obsession), steaming yams or meatballs, and grilling corn, mini bananas, skewered meats, and eggs (in-the-shell) over coals. By its nature, performance cooking demands transparency from the vendor and consequently sanitation is well enforced. Cooking utensils, ingredients, and methods are open for scrutiny without the shelter of kitchen walls to hide behind. What you see is what you get; no surprises, save the occasional chili that slips into a bite unnoticed. In additional, all stalls were supplied with their own tubs water (one fresh, one soapy) to rinse dishes or utensils in between uses.

Cleanliness extends beyond the immediate vicinity of each vending operation into the roads and entire public community. Despite the heavy reliance on disposable styrofoam bowls and plastic bags, commercial streets are surprisingly clean. Workers seem to spend a disproportionate amount of time sweeping the streets, a battle against trash well waged. The Thai also participate in glass bottle recycling, although disposable containers are more commonly used. Astonishingly it is virtually impossible to find a public garbage bin along the road; vendors cope by tying a plastic bag to the side of their carts instead.

ASIAN COMFORT FOOD, WHAT'S NOT TO LOVE
Grilled whole baby catfish, sticky rice packages, pork braised stews, crispy quail eggs by the dozen, hot and spicy soups, and crisp, cold fruits; Thai street food is appealing, foremost, for its simplicity and comforting response, and only secondarily for its outstanding, pungent flavors and creative preparation. While I found the taste and textures of Thai food intriguing, I was more captivated by the local culture around street food and the social benefits it yields. As I noted before, everyone is a consumer to Thai street food, motivated by four main characteristics. It has the advantage of incomparably low prices, often less than a third of neighboring restaurant fares. The best (venti-sized) Thai iced tea I stumbled, tucked along the edge of yet another grand mall complex, cost me less than $0.5 USD. Most meals are priced below a few dollars. The food is also conveniently available at frequent stops along a brief stroll. This interactive structure fosters a social community both amongst vendors and between patrons. Additionally, the outdoor setting of the venue encourages a level of physical commitment, minimal as it may be, and creates a festive, carnival-type atmosphere. Cheap, quick Asian comfort food at its best. (That is until we reach Vietnam)



A RECIPE
Savory baked egg custard

One of the clever little nibbles I feasted on was a savory egg custard baked in the shell. It was only after peeling and eating the egg (and finding no yolk) did I realize how this snack was made.

(for 1 egg - multiply recipe according to # of eggs)
- 1 raw egg
- 2 good shakes white pepper powder
- 1/8 tsp (good dash) soy sauce &/or fish sauce (optional)
- pinch salt
- pinch+ sugar
*preheat oven 350F
* carefully chip a penny-sized hole in the top end of the egg and pour out the contents (breaking the yolk if necessary); reserve shell intact
* scramble the egg with the seasonings to taste (my recommendations above are arbitrarily based on my knowledge of the flavors)
* pour egg mixture through a funnel back into the reserved egg shell
* set on a rack at an angle OR in set upright in a mini muffin tin (in which case it might be most profitable to make 12 or 24 eggs as an original party appetizer).
* bake (or roast over a grill) until custard is set. This might take between 10-30 min depending on the number of eggs. (The texture will be only slightly softer than the egg white of a hardboiled egg and should be uniformly firm.)

** Experiment with different spices or replacing them with coconut milk and sugar or sweetened condensed milk for a creative dessert.

Beyond Tapas: Why One Falls in Love with Spain (SPAIN - part 3 of 3)

Let me return for a moment to the continent of Europe; our one day transit to Morocco didn't leave me enough time to fully metabolize Spain. Here are a few of the more spectacular recollections from my days spent there.

The Cádiz Fish Market is tucked at the back of the Plaza de Flores (the Plaza of Flowers). Everything in this covered, parking lot sized market was alive and kicking (or recently was), from the wriggling crawfish and gemstone blocks of ruby tuna and marble swordfish, to the energetic vendors and customers, exchanging jokes and greetings as often as prices.

The vendors are charmingly personal in their interaction with customers. Within the auction-house of a fish market, I stopped at a compact fruit stall for an apple. The young, thin vendor peered down upon me, "Which one?". He waved theatrically towards two varieties packed in weathered, wooden crates behind him, red or pale green. "La más dulce de los dos?"I ventured. With a smile, he plucked a green, lopsided specimen, perfect and unique amongst the masses, and passed it over to me for inspection. The apple was crisp, slightly sweet, but mostly tart and yielded a thoroughly satisfying crunch. Throughout the market, this same care and enthusiasm was exhibited behind every transaction, each one magical to witness.

Spanish hospitality is genuine without embellishment. Despite their generally dispassionate expressions, the Spaniards are a generous bunch and were appreciative if not impressed by my faltering Spanish ability. Although my audio recordings with Javier confirmed my frightfully American accent, the locals welcomed my attempts to communicate, and words soon flowed out comfortably under their carefree guidance. By the end, I was seeking out any unthreatening person to practice on, storeowners, waiters, fellow travelers, patrons seated at sidewalk cafes, and even a shy, pre-adolescent boy who was obsessed with my friend's enticingly long, blond hair.

A NOTABLE DISH
The Cádiz Cathedral square is lovely and open, fenced in on three sides by tapas bars and cafeterías with the grand outline of the Cathedral forming the fourth edge. Students and children, dogs as well for that matter, love to gather at the Cathedral steps or in the courtyard seating to await their tapas. Curiously, it also happened to contribute free wifi ("wee-fee"as the Spanish pronounce it). A group of us set off one evening to take advantage of the Lord's generosity, making our way down to the Cathedral past dinner time. A full belly signifies nothing in Spain and we extended our dinner with a plate of huevos con gambas (scrambled egg with shrimp) to ward off the chilly evening. What arrived a short time later was so much more than simply eggs and shrimp. How anyone would have thought to scramble together so many delicious ingredients for an end-product masterpiece and grandly entitle it "eggs and shrimp"was beyond our comprehension. Eggs, softly scrambled in a quaffable olive oil with incredibly fresh shrimp were additionally bolstered by boiled green beans, fried garlic bits, baby wedges of sauteed potatoes, and pickled turnip or onion with a smattering of chopped parsley. We were still digging for new ingredients by the end of dish. Halfway through our meal it began to pour. Buckets of rain flooded our feet and the raindrops danced, drumming against the awning above. We huddled closer together unperturbed, enjoying the yuppie comfort food in front of us.

HELADO y DULCES
WIthin the first two hours of setting foot in Spain, we were already headed for the ice creams. On the open waters, a $1.50 malty soft-serve piled in a stale cone is suitable perhaps for nausea, but low-ranking within the recovered taste-bud circle. Heladerías are about half as prevalent as cafés, meaning that there are quite a few to choose from, and may also be tacked alongside a bakery. Orders come in one, two, or three "bolas"(scoops) for about 1-4 Euros. The ice cream was nothing remarkable to speak of, identical to gelato from Italy, creamier, smoother, denser, and more melty than ice cream from a box. All quite tasty to be sure, but what truly stuck out were the delicate, wafery-thin cones cradling each melting orb. The crispiness reminded me of the tri-colored Mother's Brand sugar wafers from childhood and the flavor was full of authentic eggy, buttery goodness. I sampled pistachio, which I wanted to like more than I actually did, and yogurt, which I actually enjoyed more than I planned on doing so. The yogurt flavor captured the tartness of fresh plain yogurt, lightly sweetened, or otherwise describable as Pinkberry-manifested gelato (an excellent marriage). One of my traveling companions even managed to become a regular within three days at her favorite joint, always with the same daily order.

Sweets and desserts in general are not a national phenomenon in Spain, however the city of Seville has made a name in the international sweets market. I was welcomed out of Seville's train station by streets lined with an army of orange trees, spread across the entire city. Initially, I mourned the prolifically fallen, unclaimed fruit but would soon discover that while the oranges are famous for making marmalade, they are too bitter to be eaten raw. The fruit fuels Britain's jam industry in support of their afternoon tea addiction and as a local proudly told me, the British supposedly import "all"of Seville's orange crops. Lucky for them as the jam did not seem so readily popular with the Spaniards. The orange globes created a beautiful festive backdrop to the city wherever we went. You can tell whether an orange is a sweet or bitter variety by examining the stem immediately protruding from the fruit. If the stem is thick and slightly flattened, looking more like a thin extra leaf rather than a round twig-like stem, then the oranges are bitter.

And now, back to Africa.