noodlepie

Chemical soup

We've had bad and very good Hu tieu before and now we have a MSG overloaded version on the streets of District 1. I find a mobile seller of this pork noodle soup outside 15B-5 Le Thanh Ton Street in District 1. She says she sells from here mid-morning every day. She's quite the friendly seller who mistakes me for another Ong tay noodle muncher. Oh well we all look the same, ehh? I pull up a pew next to the orange seller who's busy gobbling back a 5,000VD mid-morning bite and watch as my take away order is put together.

The difference from previous Hu tieu and this one is that this flogger uses a pork sliver/pig's blood carnivorous combo. No liver, no prawns and thicker noodles. Oh and there's that MSG hit. I always know I've had way too much of that when I get a machine gun buzz down my spine and feel a bit off-kilter for the rest of the day. It's quite the chemical thrill, but not for everday consumption. More snaps from her stall at this tagged photostream. Here's a recipe for Hu tiu or Hu tieu whichever spelling takes your fancy.

Blue shirt broth

This streetcart peddlar doles out a steamy lunchtime Canh bun on the junction of Thi Sach and Cao Ba Quat streets in District 1. We've covered this dish before on Nguyen Binh Khiem street and the only major difference I can spot is the price. Boxed up and ready to ship back to Pieman Towers this broth costs 4,000 big ones. My previous encounter was one whole thousand dong more. What I like about this cart is her location.

She's clearly got the government worker trade sown up. She plonks her cart between a large telecommunications office and the Southern Hydropower Joint Stock Company. Both are packed with hungry blue shirts looking for a cheap, nutritious score not too far from their desk.

The youth are in on the action too on the kerbside nursery school set up. If it's good enough for grandma, it's good enough for them. Freakin' right. The main vat pictured below is filled with tofu, crabmeat and conjealed pig's blood, the smaller pan is the noodle cooker. I defy you to walk past this vat and not stump up for a taste. It's not the greatest soup in Saigon, but it's a rather good one.

I reckon if some enterprising Vietnamese immigrant to the UK decked herself out in ethnic conehead gear and served this from an authentic streetcart in Birmingham city centre she'd make a bundle. What with this gem and my banh mi pate streetcart collective idea, I reckon noodlepie is becoming quite the business consulting blog. Within less than one minute's walk from this cart you can also score banh mi, banh mi thit heo nuong, goat curry and KFC.

UPDATE: On some days she sells Bun bo. See this photostream.

NB: Googling around for a suitable Birmingham city centre picture link I discovered that there is an 'International Council of Shopping Centres' and they have been giving awards since 1977. Amazing. So tell me, is you're shopping centre on the list of finalists for 2005? Should it be? Why? Give reasons, examine and discuss.

Noodleduck

This is the first time I've eaten something new on Ben Thanh market for quite a while. I do have a misguided ambition to eat from every single stall here. However, if I'm to conquer the food hall I better get my skates on, my arse in gear and my stomach pins removed. There's much work to be done. This is stall 1168. It serves Bun mang vit (Duck noodle soup) and this is the first time I've ever had it. I arrive just as they're about to cook a fresh batch. I get the last bowl and watch as they prepare the next vat.

There's a slab of chicken in there I swear. The soup is nothing much more than a pork stock and not as classy as a Banh canh at that. The duck is very tender and cut into mini-mouth morsels. The only real bit of mystery for me is the veggie at the top of the bowl. Dunno what that thing is, do you?

Bun mang vit comes with a side dish of banana flower, hedgerow and a sweet nuoc mam (fish sauce) dip. It's not the most adventurous noodle soup on the block. In fact it's pretty dull, if not totally overcast with thunder and lightning expected later.

The stallholder tells me it takes just one hour to rustle up a fresh batch. After hacking up a sheaf of spring onions and a quartered duck, she sets to work on the cooked pig's stomach. This gets sliced into bitesized chunks before following everything else into the vat. I don't get any stomach in my soup. I feel cheated.

A clenched right cheek to one side of the bun mang vit counter is stall 1170. She sells banh beo and she hogs one corner of the food hall. She's massively popular.

Particularly with women. Shame I don't really go a bundle on Banh beo.

Technorati Tags: Ben Thanh, Saigon, soup

Lau blow

Come 4-6pm onwards and you'll find Lau hotpot slopping out onto the streets all over town. Lau is drinking food. Chim cut chien (fried Quail), Trung vit lon (Embryonic duck eggs), Bo la lop (beef leaf wrap) and innards sarnies are also part of the booze scene, but they're George Lazenby to Lau's Roger Moore-esque status. Some dread Lau, some revere it.

It's basically a communal trough, heated on the table. There's a plate of greens, one of meat, a nuoc mam (fish sauce) dip and a side of bun (cold vermicelli noodles). Chuck the meat and greens in. Wait... eat. Nothing fancy, but very popular with boozers. There are a tonne of these restaurants on (I think) Truong Dinh street, but you're never far away from one wherever you are. Check out the signs above, front and back. I love the lack of thought that goes into these things. Note the blue pen drips. Rainmungsly ace.

Out front we have 'the goods'. Lower tray is filled with raw rau muong and another green leaf number I don't think I've seen before. Middle row we have slices of 'sponge' (another veg. I don't know the name of, but often appears in a Canh chua ca also) and okra. Top shelf is chokka with banana flower, pineapple and tomato. Behind the stall is a large soup vat. This no-fannying-around joint at 314 Hoa Hung street in District 10 serves a Thai style Lau with either ca (normally ca loc - a river fish) or luon (eel) for 20,000 - 30,000VD. At that price even the plusher version is less than a British quid.

The restaurant proper is little more than a front room come motorbike park. It's got that functional tatty look of many a good foodshack in Saigon. However, I'm not here to soak up the atmosphere. I ask if they do mang di ve (takeaway) - they do - I order a Lau luon to go. Doesn't seem to matter whatever you want in Saigon, you can get it 'to go'. Marvellous.

To one side of the restaurant is this wee trailer with an aged polystyrene ice box inside. This is the fish depot.

Not that spotless ehh?

Oh bollocks. I've already ordered...

Here's the Lau itself, the hotpot. Beansprouts, pineapple, bamboo sheets, acres of spring onions and mucho chilli. Ouch. The Thai signage means you'll be getting your hellishly hot Lau here. This must be the hottest thing I've ever eaten in Vietnam. Vietnamese food normally goes easy on the chillis. Quel surprise.

Chopped eel, more spring onion and 'dust'. Are we talking prawn dust?

Once your hotpot's hot, chuck in Green Mountain above along with your eel. Unfortunately, this eel is still full of bones which is more than a smidgen fiddlesome. In fact, it's an outright pain in the arse. I'd probably opt for the ordinary fish version on a follow up visit. I've had Lau in Hanoi many a time. It's quite different up north, more basic, different noodles and more than a bit crappy when all's said and done. Saigon's is way snazzier, bags more hotwired fruity sweet bite. All in all it's a far more interesting score than the northern heap of crap. I intend to try more Saigon Lau. Will blog when I have.

Technorati Tags: lau, Saigon, Streetfood, Vietnam

Hu hit

This morning I was supposed to meet ex-CNN reporter, North Korea expert and Global Voices Online blogmeister Rebecca MacKinnon. She's here, I think, to learn how the media in Vietnam is or is not developing. And to talk about blogging. She had to split town early and instead of eating with me, she had the delights of a Vietnam Airlines sandwich to contend with on her way back up to Hanoi. When figuring out where to take Rebecca, I wasn't sure just how 'street' she would be prepared to go. So, erring on the safe side I chose to go 'very very' street. Let's see what she missed.

I've almost ingested and blogged from every stall down at the local market now. However, there are two soups I've yet to 'go live' on and they both reside up this back passage which runs off one side of the main market. As is usual on local markets, there are no signs telling you what's being sold or how much it'll set you back.

I only know this is a Hu tieu stall because... well... I'm very wise. Also I had this same dish two days ago as a 'home delivery'. The last time I blogged Hu tieu it was a bit of a District 10 disaster. That joint has since closed. However, I was so impressed with my 7,000VD home delivery and surprised that I'd never stopped by before that I decide to visit the stall in person this morning.

Hu tieu is a sweet noodle soup made from pork stock with a few small prawns, liver, kidney, pork slivers, he (a chive-alike) and beansprouts. It comes with the white noodles you can see above, but there is a Mi (yellow noodle) variant called Hu tieu mi nam vang. Side note, if you want really decent Mi, head to Mi Chu Tac on Ky Dong street.

I'm going white noodle this morning. The chef revives them in the side stock pot before shunting them bowlwards. However, being Rebecca-less and with the toad in tow, I decide to grab a mang di ve (takeaway) and bank this baby for lunchtime. So, in what is quite possibly definitely a first for this blog. What you are seeing has yet to enter my digestive tract. However, like I said, I had a very successful meeting with this beast two days previously and I feel confident I'm in for a carbon copy performance.

It's blisteringly good broth, not in the sense that it'll actually give you blisters of the puss spewing swollen variety, I don't think it will, well I didn't get any, but that's not to say you couldn't get them... I digress. If Rebecca had come I'm fairly certain she would have said something like, "This soup rocks. My buds'd love this shit." which in village English roughly translates as, "Oh that IS nice. I must tell everyone at the knitting circle to pop along for a post-knit nibble next week."

I don't know much, but what I do know is I've got a blindin' soup for lunch while Rebecca could well still be recovering from airline sarnie hell. Or did she go Business class?? Hmmm? Bloggers in Business class, that could never happen. Could it?

Spot the broth

Five days ago I set what was only the second competition in this blog's lifetime. Spot the broth wasn't easy by any stretch of the most elastic of imaginations, but the response was tremendous. I spent the best part of the last two days wading through the emails, bribes and weeding out any suspected vote riggers. Finally we have a winner... well nearly. Lifegoeson got the dish right after first coming up with three possible culprits, but didn't get the price or the location.

Stroll the perimeter of Ben Thanh market in District 1 and you'll find a selection of street sellers and makeshift scoffshacks. I'm here to find a goi cuon seller I spotted a few weeks back, but it seems she's split Saigon and in her place I find this bun rieu merchant. She tells me her river crabmeat, tofu, tomato and blood noodle soup is really very ngon (delicious) and not a little dac biet (special). She's hardly likely to tell me it's a heap of shit, but I like the look of her stall, clean, nice display of condiments, rustic bamboo effect and tourist wet dream conehead hat.

Take a delve inside her pot and things only get better. Check out that whalloping great hunk of minced crabmeat top left and the acres of fried tofu cubes in among that thick red slurpworthy swamp. I can't afford the sniffablog add on tool here at noodlepie, but believe me when I say the fab stench emanating from this vat will blow your nose clean off As bun rieu goes this isn't cheap - a staggering 8,000VD to be exact. The cheapest I've scored in Saigon is 3,000VD. 3-4,000VD seems to be the regular price around town.

However, my limited Vietnamese vocabulary and less than ropey listening ability tells me (I think) that what ratchets up the price at this deluxe dual basket pavement level outfit is some wee dried shrimp she adds to the broth which others commonly do not. Location could also have something to do with it. Downtown prices are often double the deal in the 'burbs. But, this is killer bun rieu, not in the literal sense - it won't actually kill you, but in the, "Yummo, that really is a jolly fine broth" kinda way. Highly recommended, this is top soup. Oh...and well done to lifegoeson. I'll make the next competition a real toughie.

Duck noodles

Mi Chu Tac at 20-6A Ky Dong Street in District 3 is noodle mecca. It's located on a street/alleyway corner opposite a cafe that promises to show all Champion's League football matches in Europe live. Mi Chu Tac bills itself as a 'Chinese Noodle Restaurant' and concentrates on Mi noodle dishes. Mi are yellowy in colour, a bit like fresh spaghetti (kinda) only slightly slimmer and are heavier and more chewy than the commoner, peasant noodle, bun. These are posh noodles.

Enter, negotiate the parked motorbikes inside and scope out the chef's quarters. The extensive menu includes won ton, shrimp, veggie and duck noodle soups. They also serve Ha Cao - minced pork stuffed dim sum wannabes - which make for an excellent appetizer.

I used to come here a lot a few years back, but slipped into phoning and ordering delivery deals circa 2003 (Tel: 08 9 318 966). Dropping by today I see they've tarted the shack up with romantic pastel shades and intimate table and chair sets. I order the Mi Vit Tiem (Chinese medicinal duck noodle soup) for a salamander's slither over 30,000VD. I only ever order this or the Mi Oanh Thanh (Won ton noodle soup) 'cos... well I'm boring. Inside we have a duck, noodles and some mustard greens.

I usually stick the duck on a separate plate and dissect from there, but not today. I'm feeling dangerous. The duck happily falls off the bone, the pharmaceutical vapours coming direct from China hang over the bowl like a dancing flavour fog, a five spice rainbow of temptation, frolicking over your tongue, tempting you, drawing you in to its subtle, yet complex, but at the same time paradoxically simple weave of intricately laced tastes... Oh bollocks... I knew that'd happen one day. Can someone put a coupla quid in the meter, please?...

Thit: Take Two

I hope this ongoing tour of my local market is helping illustrate just how much nosh there is in this city. This market isn't special, it isn't big. It's just like a squillion others in town, but I'm still not done exploring it. The thing is barely 100 metres long and I'm as tall as it is wide. So, you know, it's small, it's good and there are more, a lot more just like it all over Saigon. Go explore.

This stallholder sells Bun thit nuong (Grilled pork with vermicelli noodles) for 7,000VD and her stall is about midway down the alley. This is my first time stoolside at her perch. I'm a regular at the other thit nuong seller and I must admit I felt a bit of a slag sloping off to her rival four stalls and weasel's burp up my back passage, but there are noticeable differences between the two. This seller doesn't do the kebab numbers and she doesn't do those freakin' top rice roll rockers.

She's a straight up 'n' down thit woman. Vermicelli noodles, chopped up cha gio (spring rolls), veggies and scissored, marinated, grilled pork in a bowl, mish-mash-mosh, slurp of nuoc mam (fish sauce) and whallop, you're done.

I think old reliable four hops and a beetle's scrurry to her right is better. This was a bit bland and I do like my rolls, big time and OK, I'll admit I did stop by her rival for a nibble and a gulp on the way back to Pieman Towers. Whaddya think? Those cha gio above look a bit munchtastic ehhh?

Best noodle soup in Saigon

The 'Best Noodle Soup in Saigon' Taste Everything Award goes to a 7,000VD (US$0.45) bowl of Bun Mam and the lady chef who simply goes by the name of Ba Sau (Number 36). She's been serving this one noodle soup from her small six-seater stall in an alleyway market in District 10 for the last 25 years. Bun Mam is just one of a swarm of native vermicelli noodle soups on offer throughout Vietnam, but in my opinion, it is Vietnam's soup star and Ba Sau serves the best I've found in Saigon.

So what is it? Pictured above we have part of the assembly line; bun (vermicelli noodles), soup, aubergine and that green end of spring onion-alike on your right, which is not a spring onion at all, but something called he - a kind of garlic chive. Inside the table top glass cabinet are pre-cooked prawns and fatty, roasted pork complete with a crispy fat trim. Some Bun mam sellers also throw in squid and fish, but not here. The dish originates from Soc Trang Province in Vietnam's Mekong Delta.

The soup stock is the key. It's a pork bone/fish combo number rammed full of goodies. Ba Sau throws in a no nonsense, roughly chopped up bag of fresh lemon grass and there’s a healthy splosh or ten of Mam tom, that's the purple prawn paste monster pictured above and the one providing the punch and the pong here. Bun mam does whiff.

Next up is the shrubbery pictured above. It comes on a side plate or ready blanched in your soup - your choice, but for the record I keep my hedgerow raw, add a squeeze of lemon and go easy on the yellow chilli slivers. This amazing bush is peculiar to Bun mam. The wee green chap to the top right, rau dang (a variety of cress), has the strongest flavour and is often served with Chao ca (Rice porridge with fish). According to local food lore, rau dang is very useful if you're suffering from a stinking cold. The purple fella is bong sung (water lilly root). We also have raw beansprouts, raw rau muong (stripped morning glory) and the green leaf trio of rau thom (sorrel), rau que (basil) and one sprig of sour rau ca which is a powerful and unusual 'fish mint'.

Moving on to the taste. The soup is a slightly sweet, complex, muddy Mekong flood of fermented prawn paste and chilli lavered into a thick earthy stock. The aubergine has had time to soak the soup up and each velvet bite squeezes soup juice from the veggie core. It's an unlikely sounding hit, but a hit it undoubtedly is.

It tastes blinkin’ marvellous which is why I have given it, and Ba Sau, the 'Best Noodle Soup in Saigon' award for the 2005 Taste Everything Food Awards. NB: I must thank Noodlepie readers, Ecr and Vickie for helping me with hedgerow herb translation work. See full list of awards.

Bargain broth

If it's cheapsville I'm after this is the stall I drop by. She serves two dishes only, Canh bun and Bun rieu cua. I've yet to gobble her Canh bun, but have splashed out on her Bun rieu cua on several occasions. It costs just 3,000VD. That's one whole thousand dong cheaper than the younger, more glamorous, stallholder two steps and a horse's sneeze along the alleyway. But, is it any better? Well, no it's not, but she is up against the best Bun rieu I've ever tried. That said, this ain't no slouch. The Bun rieu cua here is far darker (sorry no National Geographic macro closeup wankery today) and is more frugal on the spamsticks than her snazzy competitor.

However, she's one of the chirpier stall holders down the market and even though her broth isn't Olympic, I do enjoy pulling up a pew under her brolly for a slurp 'n' burp now and again. If you've yet to discover the delights of Bun rieu here at noodlepie, start you journey with Google juice. we've covered this beast several times previously.

Of all the stalls down the local shopping precinct, there are only two that I've spotted with stall front signs. Unfortunately for the hopeless, bumbling nguoi tay balo's of this world, if you don't know your Vietnamese food, sign-less stalls won't help you as you pound your way up this back passage.

Now, does anyone know what profit there is in a healthy, fresh soup that goes for 3,000VD at a stall like this? 'Cos I'm buggered if I can figure it out.

For the clueless the handy noodlepie currency converter should help

3,000VD = 5.5 Russian Roubles, 20.3 Albanian Lek, 0.14 Jordanian Dinar, 0.52 Samoan Tala or not much of anything really.

Roll 'n' dip

We've been here before. This is one of two Bun thit nuong sellers on my manor. I'm a bit of a regular at her stall. For those not in the know, Bun thit nuong is grilled marinated pork with cold vermicelli noodles (bun) and it looks like this. However, you can also get the same deal, herbs 'n' all, stuffed inside a rice paper. What's interesting at this Saigonite's stall is she's always got a bunch of sideline dishes on the go. I've seen Banh xeo, Bun bo Hue, various Canh (soups) and a bash at tempura. Today she plopped a bowl of Mam nem on my table, instead of the my regular Nuoc mam (fish sauce).

All I know about Mam nem is that it's an anchovy sauce, but there's anchovies in Nuoc mam, so what's the deal here? Comments please? There's not much of a chili jolt to Mam nem, which is a good thing. Until enlightenment in the comment box, get a loada that roll above. Meat, herbs, noodles, rice paper, dip. OK, OK, it's not gourmet carcass, but let's not get picky. You don't need flesh from a Tamworth to make this roll rock. I only stopped by for a nibble, I ended up getting through three of these. What a mix, what a taste. Who thinks these things up?

UPDATE: Reader Nguyen enlightens us in the comments box:

Mam nem is different from regular "nuoc mam" in that the fish hasn't been extracted from the sauce, can feel scraps in your mouth (unless you filter it yourself). To create an even better sauce than what came in the bottle, add finely chopped pineapple, lime, garlic, a little oil and hot peppers. In my opinion, it's among the stinkiest. No doubt could kill any flies and buzz too close.

Blog readers are brilliant, aren't they. Thanks.

Canh bun, can do

We continue to carve our way through the street cuisine of Nguyen Binh Khiem Street in District 1 today. I just can't seem to pass a stall by without poking my snout in to see what's cooking. I spotted this seller a few weeks ago. I thought she was selling Bun mam. I checked out her goods and sure enough, her bumper mobile vat was brimfull with lovely, whiffy Bun mam. Mid Me da quaff the other day, I spy her wheeling her wares southbound on the one way (northbound) Nguyen Binh Khiem Street. Me da quaffed, I follow her scent and find the stall fired up and ready to go just south of the entrance to Saigon zoo. She tells me she sells at this spot between 11am and 2pm most days.

However, there's no Bun mam today. Her vat's bubbling with Canh bun. We've had this once before over at the food-mungus Ben Thanh market food hall. I'll be honest and say I'm a bit miffed not to find her flogging god's own soup today, but her Canh bun looks promising. She tells me I'm the first customer today. Well, I'm hungry. In the vat above there's fried tofu, huyet (conjealed blood) and a huge hunk of minced river crab. She hacks a piece off the big lump for each serving. The noodles are heated in the small vat.

Then she adds the pre-cooked rau muong (morning glory) which you can see in the shot above. In go the condiments of your choice - minced red chilli and mam tom (Shrimp paste - Mr. Whiffy) are the main ones. I think the two other pots contain soy sauce and nuoc mam (fish sauce), but I didn't check thoroughly enough, and the photo below is a bit crap, sorry.

She ladles in the broth, with blood and tofu, although she'll leave the blood out if that's not your thing. Lastly, she unravels a banana leaf to reveal a spamstick which she chucks in. That's Canh bun.

It's looks remarkably similar to Bun rieu. The tomatoes in a Bun rieu are replaced by rau muong in Canh bun . The bun is also thicker, but if you throw in all the condiments the two soups do taste kinda similar. Although Canh bun maybe isn't quite as pungent as Bun rieu. This was very enjoyable, very filling and there was plenty of it. Costs 5,000VD and I recommend it if you're in the 'hood.

I know a lot of these stalls look like shit, but don't let that put you off. Looks are very deceiving in Vietnam. Street food served from carts like this isn't life threatening. It's usually good, as in this case. And very often, it's superb.

Soup market

This lady serves Bun bo (Beef noodle soup) at the very far end of the alleyway which makes for the local market. Like most of the stallholders here, she sets her table up in front of her opened house. In this case that's next to the Banh khot seller. Her young son is clearly visible in the small living space behind the stall. I take a plastic seat stall front, order my soup and wait as her son skillfully manipulates a bewildering arsenal of weaponry to help save the planet from a group of evil doers wont on creating a blonde utopia upon his TV screen. Jerry finally eats electronic lead and my soup arrives.

That slab of spam centrestage is a tasty, pepper filled giant. In fact it's the best thing about this rendition of Bun bo. The thinly sliced beef looks wan and is a trifle chewy. The thick bun (vermicelli noodles) are fresh, as is normal and expected in Saigon, but the soup is sadly lacklustre. There's little depth of any kind and we're deep in watery territory here. This stall doesn't seem to be the most popular on the market. In fact it's empty. One of the two Bun rieu sellers further up the market win the 'most popular with the punters' prize. However, you will find pleasant service and a quiet seat here. You'll need 7,000VD for a bowl of the beefy stuff.

Snail soup

Bo Ai at 19/12 Nguyen Thi Minh Khai street in District 1 specialises in two dishes. Bun oc Ha Noi and Banh da cua. Bun oc is a light Hanoian noodle soup with snails. I have no idea what Banh da cua is, although cua means crab and banh means some kind of cake, although Banh canh is a soup... Crabcakes/Crabcake soup? I'm not sure, and I'm here for the Bun oc anyhow, so let's not stress. Unlike the petite snails we scoffed on Tu xuong street these earthbound molluscs are massive.

We're here early and out on the pavement, restaurant front, snail-prep is underway. This chap takes a snail from a large box, slips off the 'hood' into the red basket, washes the snail in the blue basin, disposes of the snail crap in the yellow colander and puts the edible end of the escargot in the tall blue bucket. Colour co-ordinated escargot prep - how very cool. Below we have the freshly prepared snails. The snail killer did tell me the name of this snail, but I didn't have a pen to hand to note down the particulars and promptly forgot.

The restaurant is open to the street and is filled with the usual aluminium tables, TV and a beer and soft drink filled fridge. Below, the snail slayer's missus takes over in the skullery. She wears one plastic glove to handle the snails - which we previously saw on the pavement outside, handled by hubby sans plastique. The chef's plastic glove is relatively uncommon in Vietnam although I understand there has been pressure from the authorities to improve hygiene standards in these basic restaurants. Glass cabinets, refrigeration and gloves and part of the trend.

It's a mang di ve I'm after today (takeaway) As with other noodle soup takeaways it's thick with bun (vermicelli noodles). Thicker than if you had the sit down version. The snails err towards chewdom, but thankfully don't dwell too long there. There's plenty of them hidden under the noodles in the bowl below. The soup is a bit strange, slightly yellow in colour, but somewhat bland with no chili present. The dish comes with the usual shrubbery including a splodge of banana flowers.

It's a street soup, perhaps best served on the pavements of the chilly north. For myself, I have to say I wasn't too impressed. The Vietnamese have many ways of cooking snails and I hope I get to try a few more of them. However, I would be interested to know what goes into the soup as I couldn't find a recipe via Google. If you can help out, please post a comment. This mix of molluscs and noodles will set you back 8,000VD. View the business card.

Bitches broth

I'm a big fan of the many varied Vietnamese soups here in Saigon. Something of a soup stalker, if you will. But what, I hear you ask, is my favourite? That’s a tough one right enough. Don't think I haven't mulled it over. I've thought of little else for the last eight years. But as of January 2005, I’m 98.89% certain of the one I’d choose. But, am I sure enough to commit that conviction to blogdom? Hmmm… Let’s put it another way.

If I was banged up in Bellmarsh taking a shower and three 200lb sweaty, tattooed bitches had my legs spread, neck held in a fist vice, one side of my face melded to ceramic wall tiles and the threat of an afternoon at the ragged end of the prison meat train very real and rather imminent. If I found myself in such a spot of bother and was then asked what my favourite Vietnamese soup was, I’d have to own up and say, “Bun mam" But, I'd say it very, very loudly taking extreme care to enunciate my consonants.

Bun mam is blindin’. This penny-pinching troll stallholder on the local market is the only mean minded witch seller of this powerful broth that I’ve found within a mile radius of Pieman Towers. Bun mam doesn’t appear to be as ubiquitous as Bun rieu, Pho, Banh canh cua or Hu tieu. I’m not sure why that is, or even if that statement is factually correct, but I don’t think Bun mam is held in such high regard as Vietnam's better known super-soups.

So what is it? We covered it briefly before and back then I promised to delve deeper. I'll be honest with you, I haven’t journeyed much further at all, just around the corner actually. But I do have a few more factoids to hand. Pictured above we have part of the Bun mam assembly line, bun (vermicelli noodles), soup, aubergine and that green end of spring onion-alike, which is not a spring onion, on your right is called he, (Sorry, I don't know the English. Any help appreciated). In the table top glass cabinet this thief lady stores pre-cooked prawns and fatty, roasted pork. Some Bun mam sellers also throw in squid and fish, but not the tight-fisted bitch seller at this stall. The soup stock is the key. It’s rammed full of goodies, not sure what exactly, but I do know there’s a healthy splosh or ten of Mam tom, the purple prawn paste monster, in there. That’s the one providing the punch and the pong here. Bun mam does whiff.

Next up is the shrubbery. Now, if anyone can tell me why different Vietnamese soups come with different hedgerow clippings, or none at all, I’d love to know. The amazing bush pictured above is peculiar to Bun mam. That wee green chap to the top right, rau dang, has the strongest flavour (English anyone?) and is often served with Chao ca (Rice porridge with fish) and is apparently useful if you're suffering from a stinking cold like me at the moment. The purple fella is bong sung (English again?). We also have raw beansprouts,  raw rau muong (raw stripped morning glory) and the green leaf trio of rau thom (Sorrel), rau que (Urr... English?) and one sprig of sour rau ca which is a powerful and unusual 'fish mint'.

Moving on to the taste. It’s a slightly sweet, complex, muddy flood of fermented prawn paste and chilli lavered into a thick earthy stock. I could blabber on for hours about it, but to be honest I don’t really know what I'm talking about, what's in it or how it's really made. However, I do know I couldn't possibly come close to reproducing it even if I did know. It tastes blinkin’ marvellous.

I visit this lying cheat seller about once a week. I first tried it hand delivered to Pieman Towers, pictured below. Impressed, a month or two later I popped down stallside for a butchers myself. If you have a Vietnamese face at this sly businesslike stall, it'll cost you 7,000VD. Difficult to disguise a pasty Brit face anywhere and I got wholloped for a full 10,000VD for my first purchase. I briefly challenged the cheating scum elderly trader in my pathetic, pidgin Vietnamese, but the evil one she wasn’t having any of it. I didn’t want to make Satan’s mistress her lose her faeces in public and so I sloped off, soup in hand, ego singed.

A follow-up visit a week later, accompanied by a Vietnamese face, and this two-faced harpy grey-haired stall-holder told my accomplice, “NOW, he knows the real price, he can have it for 7,000 dong.” In so doing I broke noodlepie’s number one rule, ‘Never return to a seller who diddles the dumb foreigner. No matter how good the grub is.’ There is no rule number two. But Bun mam is THAT good. Yes - good enough even to break noodlepie-law for. But, if you ever fancy a fill at this arch criminal's lair stall holder’s table, watch your pennies or she’ll shaft you. Prison style.

Airport grill

If you're headed to the Tan Son Nhat airport to hop on a domestic flight and you're feeling an incey wincey bit peckish there're three options ahead of you.

• Hold out and suffer Vietnam Airlines domestic schedule spam sandwich in a box.
• Or you could stump up between 3 and 4 times the town price for sub-standard crap in the Airport SkyNet cafe. A 333 beer will set you back around 23,000VD. It costs 6,000VD at my corner shop.
• Or stop off somewhere en route and outside airport grounds

Bun Cha Van Anh is one of many restaurant options lining the main road to the airport, Truong Son Street. You'll find it at the corner with Song Day Street. If you're travelling light, like me, you could even walk to the airport from here. Regular noodlepie readers will know that Bun Cha is a northern dish. There seems to be a proliferation of northern restaurants the closer you get to the airport. I have a feeling it's something of a Hanoian's comfort zone away from home.

Within walking distance you'll find Hanoi style Pho shacks, there's an interesting looking Chao luon  specialist tucked just around the corner and I also spied a Banh cuon hole. But I've been meaning to try Van Anh's Bun Cha for donkeys and I only recently made time to stop off. The sixteen tables and plastic chairs were almost full when I arrived

Van Anh serves Bun cha Hanoi and Bun nem cua (Cha gio). Bun cha is everything you see above sans spring rolls (couple chopped up on your left). Bun nem cua is everything minus the bowl of minced pork and fish sauce directly above. If you're interested in knowing more - Google noodlepie - we've covered this dish three times previously.

The shot above and the one below (in my opinion) are the best photos to grace this blog ever. In the UK there's a newspaper called The Sun, every day it publishes a saucy pic of a tasty topless dish on Page 3. Noodlepie doesn't have a Page 3, but if it did, you wouldn't find anything better looking spread across this blog's table than that fine looking pair. The Bun cha above is filled with quality meat, not fatty at all, dunked in a corkin' nuoc mam (fish sauce) and charred faultlessly.

The crab filled Cha gio are better than any I ever had in Hanoi. I felt a bit of hog ordering two, but to be honest I could've stuffed a couple more in. Balls out rockin' topscoff.

The killer condiment is that vat of vinegar and garlic above. A spoon or two of that nectar will have your Bun cha singing soprano with a full backing band as opposed to warbling aimlessly at the rear of the Sunday school choir. There's also a jar of chilli sauce, nuoc mam and a tub of minced red chilli.

At the rear of this fabulous den are a bunch of chefs pounding meat, rolling rolls and washing herbs. That's one of the biggest plates of Cha gio you're ever likely to see and I'll admit for a few seconds I did consider swiping the lot and making a dash for the airport.

However, I fully intend to make a repeat visit here and thieves probably aren't tolerated upon a second visit. The barbie is hidden away in a hole in the wall in the middle of the restaurant. It might not look hot in the shot below, but believe me - there's some fierce heat emanating from that hole.

This is probably the best Bun cha I've found in Saigon so far and it's well worth the trip out for a fix even if you're not airport bound. They have better quality meat, better cha gio and a better sauce than the others. Although the shrubbery is lacking. It's hyper-popular. That little lot, with an iced tea, came to 20,000VD. If you can't be arsed heading in an airporterly direction, I suggest you scoff at 20B Tran Cao Van Street instead.

Meat market

Continuing our mini-series from the local market, today finds us masticating at the meat stall. This seller flogs Bun thit nuong (Grilled meat and cold noodles) from an L-shaped table top stall dumped outside her front door and next to the Hot toc (hairdresser). A curtain of carcass smoke choking a trail across the upper section of the market is what first drew my attention to this stall. Of all the sellers down the local market she's the friendliest. Although I'll admit, she's the one who does the nattering, I just frown confusion.

The nursery school seating helps make it a popular hang with the street's old lady mafia. A six foot tall honky isn't exactly a snug fit in these surroundings, but I try to blend in... As with probably every local stall at every local market in Vietnam, it's not just the food that's the draw, everyone's here for a gas and a gossip. The mobile Xoi seller who plies her morning trade up and down this alley is a regular squatter here. I digress... on to the food. In the two-tiered glass case above, we have 'the goods'. Top left is banana flower, next door some ready-wrapped rolls (more of which in a minute), then comes cooked, skewered pork meat kebabs and some very dainty cha gio. Sauces, condiments and debris and stored down below. Her 'kitchen' is a low level barbie she prods on her left hand side.

Above we have some fresh meat beginning their journey deep into the heart of char-town.

And these fine looking specimens are fresh outta the fire. I don't know about you, but meat has rarely looked more tempting than that flagrant display above. Now, there are a couple of options ahead of you. You can make a rice paper roll filled with meat, lettuce, cucumber, basil, bun (cold vermicelli noodles) and banana flower. Or you can go for the full Bun thit nuong-monty i.e. same as a rice paper wrap, but more of it and whacked on a plate rather than rolled up, i.e. something like this. You can also skirt the meat (Why the hell you'd wanna do that, I don't know...) and shove a cha gio in the rice paper instead and then add all the usual trimmings, wrap, dip and scoff.

On this visit I'm in snack mode and plump for a couple of meat-filled rolls and a paltry one cha gio. The dip is a nuoc mam (fish sauce) firey chili fiend. If you're no vindaloo afficiando, approach this bowl with a degree of caution. This seller seems to fob off the ready-wrapped numbers in her glass cabinet to the mang di ve (takeaway) crowd. However, pull up a pew and she'll make sure you get a pipin' fresh slab of meat in your roll which she'll also wrap up for you if, like me, your rolling technique is less than good. Her rolls are a herby, carnivorous hit, her cha gio a bit of a limp, cold miss. 8-10,000VD depending on what, and how much, you scoff.

Street spring rolls

The latest additions to Saigon zoo are two young giraffes. They were a major hit a couple of week’s back, but the crowds have regrouped around the old stalwarts; the monkeys and the elephants. The monkeys perform treetop acrobatics in return for fruit, the elephants wave their trunks hoping you’ll buy them a sugarcane stick from the vendor handily stuck in front of their pen. However, for the toad it’s the feathered freak above that excites the most interest at the moment. When that interest fades and the toad is zooed out and snoring, I can go forage the street outside.

Zoo street, Nguyen Binh Kiem Street, always throws up a surprise or two. I stopped the seller above after I spotted the Cha gio (Spring rolls) in one of her baskets as she waltzed passed number 2A Nguyen Binh Khiem. She tells me her usual route finds her flaunting her goodies from the Saigon river south past the zoo and through District 1 over the course of the day. She's been making a living this way for the past eight years.

In the basket above we have her specialty, vegetarian Cha gio and noodles. I’ve only ever seen these once before at a Com Chay (vegetarian) stall on Ben Thanh Market. And they were much bigger. She fills her Cha gio with ground beans before frying, they’re served warm over yellow and white noodles, shredded thin fried omellette with lightly fried, soft-centred tofu.

In the other of her two baskets is the condiment selection. The blanched beansprouts come mixed with a smidgen of pondweed. Then there's the kitchen standards; chopped peanuts, minced red chilli, a jar of nuoc mam (fish sauce) and one of soy sauce. She’ll ram the lot inside a polystyrene box, give you some wooden chopsticks and a plastic spoon and seal the lot with an elastic band. Quick tip: The elastic band business in Vietnam is a total goldmine. I gather 100’s of the things every month. Street stalls, restaurants, market sellers, you name it. Everything is bagged and sealed elastically in this country.

Mobile street sellers are always worth checking out, but this isn’t a dish I’d bother hollering for again. It looks great, doesn’t it? But the Cha gio weren’t fresh enough and the bean centre tasted like bland solid yellow dust... kind of. I did like the supple tofu and the bite a dip in the dark, but oh-so-light nuoc mam gave it. The noodles and egg combo were fun and I like my pondweed, but this is a filla, not a feast. Still, at 5000VD I’m not complaining. Hell, I’ll even splash out and wash the lot down with a Mia da.

You’ll always find one when you need one. In fact there’s a veritable glut of these on zoo street. 1500VD is slightly cheaper than other haunts. Quiz-time: There's no prizes for guessing the name of the bird from the zoo, but you'll look dead clever in the comments box if you do know.

Banh Khot vs. Bun Ca

I've had good results from restaurants that limit the number of dishes they serve. So much so, that I'd almost call it a rule here in Saigon. Co Hai at 119 Vo Thi Sau Street in District 3 doles out just four dishes from within its clean, sparse, airy restaurant lined with fluorescent tubes, broken fans and hidden behind the anonymous front pictured above. Banh khot tom cha are miniature fried pancakes with a sole shrimp dolloped atop. One 15,000VD serving comes with eight cakes, accompanied by two baskets of shrubbery, a plate of sliced pickled carrot and raddish. On each table there's a bumper jug of nuoc mam (fish sauce) - Be careful - you REALLY wouldn't wanna knock 2 litres of kipperjuice over yourself - and each scoffer gets an empty dipping bowl.

Take a leaf (lettuce or mustard) and sling in a couple of herbs and pickles along with the banh khot itself. Make a small parcel and dip into the plain nuoc mam. Depending on the size of your gob and/or how much of a fat bastard you are, each green parcel should take around three bites to fully consume. It's green 'n' lean and airyfairy enough that one diner could stuff in all eight cakes with ease. The mustard leaf is my wrapper of choice for its extra moorish points. It's blindin', topscoff. I've only ever had this dish once before, on Ben Thanh night market, where it is called Banh can. I found my previous encounter enjoyable, but Co Hai cranks the whole experience up several gears leaving the night market chefs stalled on the starting line.

This restaurant used to be the home of a half arsed French diner, that disappeared some months ago when Co Hai stepped in. It's become a popular spot with plenty of Saigonese scoffers filling the joint between 7am and 10pm each day. After sharing a plate of Banh khot I'm ready to order a second round. However, I'll have to hold off on this visit as the main reason I'm hauled up here is the Bun ca (Fish with tamarind noodle soup) 13,000VD. Bun (vermicelli noodles) are sunk below a tamarind broth, tomato, peanuts, red chillis and a single fish steak. Bun ca comes with a plate (not a dipping bowl) of red chilli spiked nuoc mam. You plonk your fish onto the plate and dissect it from there.

I've never had a Vietnamese soup like this before where the tamarind sourness is so in your face. It's a belly bustin' hit. You might wanna make sure your first stop after lunch has clean conveniences - Tamarind is a very strong diuretic... I'd rank Bun ca right up there with Bun rieu, Bun mam and Canh chua ca. Co Hai also serves Lau cua mang chua (Crab hotpot) (Ask for the daily price) and Cha ca (A kind of fried fishmince burger snack type thing for 15,000VD, not the other kind of Cha ca). The menu is all in Vietnamese and includes a vast number of drinks. The Mia lau is worth a sniff. It's made of very young cooked sugarcane. Warm 'n' sweet and 2,000VD. There's more on Banh khot in this snippet from Annabel Jackson's bastardised Vietnamese streetfood cookbook, Cafe Vietnam. View the business card and directions.

Biker's broth

This is a Bun Bo Hue specialty restaurant. You'll find this scuzzy shack at 19bis Tran Co Van Street in District 1. I dropped by to pick up a 'mang di ve' - that's a takeaway to you and me. Bun Bo Hue is a beef noodle soup consisting of thick bun (vermicelli noodles), thin cuts of beef, a couple of varieties of spamsticks dressed up in a blindin' sweet meat-thick broth. We've sampled it on the market before. Each order comes with a hedgerow side dish and a plate of the meanest red chillies in Vietnam. I swear, if these thugs were boozers, they'd arrive on a fleet of Harley's, wedge their machetes into the bar surface and order a line of shooters. There's only ever gonna be one end to any relationship with these hooligans and it won't be pretty. Call up Dynorod, make an advance booking for early morning. Fear factor aside for a minute, this is a solid Bun Bo Hue, and importantly for clueless scoffers like myself, it's massive with Saigonese. It'll set you back 11,000VD to mang di ve, 10,000VD in house. Whatever you do, don't knock the Harley over on your way out.

This joint is directly opposite the best Bun cha shed I've found in Saigon so far which I noticed has broken with tradition and serves this lunchtime only dish into the night.

Bun thit nuong

This is a take home Bun thit nuong (Grilled meat with cold vermicelli noodles) grabbed along Nguyen Thong Street near the junction with Ky Dong Street in District 3. It's the dac biet (special) dish of the stall which also serves an array of noodle soups. The nuoc mam (fish sauce) is well tangy and sweet and scattered with crinkle cut carrots and onion. The pieces of pork shrapnel are marinated in sweet fish sauce and grilled over embers stall front. There are also portions of 'rolled pork kebab' which are skewered before grilling. For greens you have mint, cucumber and banana flower. There's also some chopped nuts in among this lot. This is fabulous streetscoff and costs 10,000VD. Highly recommended. Sorry I don't have the exact address, but it's very near the Ky Dong junction. Come lunchtime just follow the scent of the nearest grill. NB: Over the coming couple of weeks blogging may be light. However, I have an interesting wee mini-series planned which I intend to blog as soon I have put it together.

Soup-star

More on the home delivery front. This time I got a location to follow up, rather than the usual vague street name or district. This is 'Dac Biet' Banh Canh Cua (Thick noodle crab soup). The 'dac biet' bit means special and is normally used by stall holders who have ideas above all the other stalls within eyeshot. However, this is slightly different from the last bowl of this we came across at Ben Thanh market. This noodles are still thick, but they're translucent (that could be the bite in the dac biet bit???). They have a melt in the gob quality to them. They also kinda look like miniature see-thru eels. Like something David Attenborough unearthed way down deep for the 'Blue Planet' TV series. You'll also find your flaky crabmeat, couple of sticks of Vina-spam, mushies, spring onion and all the usual herbal suspects. No chilli in this venture though. Although you will get a side of minced red chilli, sliced yellow chilli and an 8th of a lemon. 10,000VD from 59 Bis Nguyen Thong Street. Worth further inspection I'd say. This was excellent.

Ngu Vien Part 4

A few quick additions to our ongoing journey through the Ngu Vien restaurant menu. Above we have a Vietnamese classic, Chao tom (Shrimp paste on sugar cane) served with sliced starfruit, cucumber, lettuce and green banana. There's a couple of side dishes along for the ride too; rice paper to stuff your hacked up Chao tom inside and Bun (cold vermicelli noodles). You'll also get a nuoc mam (fish sauce) dip. This is one of the better versions of this Chao tom I've found. And only 22,000VD for one. You can also gnaw the sugarcane when you're done with the meat. Neat. The Chao tom at Quan An Ngon in District 1 comes with "angel" bun. Also neat.

This is billed as Ca Thu Chien (Fried Mackerel). It's not a mackerel, it's a firm fleshy fish with a light flour batter fried within range of crispiness, but no further. Scrummy and simple. Dip it in the nuoc mam. Whenever I order food at Ngu Vien I always end up with two or three different varieties of fish sauce on the table. Difficult to keep track of which one should go with which dish... Ca Thu Chien goes for 39,000VD.

Last up is Goi va (Fig fruit salad served with sesame rice cakes) This is very similar to the jackfruit salad we covered during our last visit to this restaurant at 40 Ky Dong Street in District 3. On reflection, I'd say this was even better than the jackfruit. No mean feat. It's a warm salad with shredded pork mingling with the fig fruit. The fig fruit is softer than the jackfruit version, although it does lack that surreal jackfruit texture we discussed before. The shoddy snap doesn't do this justice. Highly recommended and'll set you back 42,000VD. For previous Ngu Vien reviews, go to Part 1, Part 2 & Part 3. View the business card and in Vietnamese.

Back on the Bun Cha

Apologies to regulars, but there's another Bun cha posting coming your way. Noodlepie has a loose eye on finding the best pho in town, but if I was based up in Hanoi I would transfer that focus to the lunchtime dish - Bun cha. "We've heard all this before Pieman, give us something new for chrissakes," I hear my lone reader cry. Tough. It's my favourite Vietnamese dish and it's rare enough in Saigon for me to realistically try the majority of places serving pukka pork balls during my stint here. We've covered the Ly Tu Trong and Tran Cao Van burnt offerings before. Today finds us up the end of one of Saigon's many attractive back passages at 26 Le Thanh Ton Street in District 1. You'll find griller-girl, pictured above, shop front and in charge of charring carcass. The rest of the nosh is rustled up at the back of this narrow diner and the hungry are squashed inbetween on lo-rise tables in tatty discomfort.

Judging by the accents of the staff and the name of the restaurant - Bun Cha Hanoi - this place is like previous Bun cha joints, a dishevelled shack run by Hanoians. Much the same as the Tran Cao Van scoffshed it's popular, very popular. I sat down at 10:45am. By 11:05am every table was full and hungry customers were standing giving the evil eye to those already ensconced. Clearly an early arrival here is advised. The spread above came within 2 or 3 minutes

Here's the main deal closeup. I won't go into the details of it all again, check out this previous posting for that. Maybe I haven't sampled the Hanoi original for too long, but I think this is an authentic southern rendering of the northern classic. The nuoc mam (fish sauce) is slightly sweeter than other Saigonese Bun cha, but you can easily tart it down with the garlic vinegar which you'll find on all fourteen tables at Bun Cha Hanoi. The Su Su, called Chayote in English - as I recently discovered via reader phaocao - cheers;), is thickly cut and constitutes the only chopped vegetable inside the main event. You'll also get a plastic basket brimfull with lettuce, basil, rau muong (stripped morning glory) and beansprouts. Meanwhile, the chefs over on Tran Cao Van Street dish up a better selection with seven different herbs on their tables.

These cha giao (spring rolls) harbour a decent crunch filled with minced pork, mushrooms, but no crabmeat. At least not to my taste buds. Dipped into your nuoc mam they're a gnasher-pleasingly crisp entree. This restaurant, like the other Saigon Bun cha, gives you an extra bowl to eat out of, if you really need it. In Hanoi, there's no extra bowl, you just mash everything into the main event and get stuck in.

If you poke your nose up this back passage you'll also find what looks like a respectable Com binh dan, a couple of drink stalls and a Com trua. Bun Cha Hanoi is located at the very end of this alleyway. The lot above, with an iced tea, will set you back 13,000VD or less than a buck. Bonkers-good bargain I'd say.

Bumper bowl of Bun Rieu

Bun Rieu is one of those ‘soup-come-stew-come-chuck-in-whatever-u-like just-make-sure-you-add-noodles’ dishes – there are a lorra, lorra those on the streets of Saigon, believe me - and it ranks up there with the best of 'em. We’ve covered Bun Rieu before at a stall along Le Thanh Ton street, we also bent bowlwards down a District 10 alleyway, so I won’t go over the finer points again here. This is another one of those dishes that appear roughly twice per week hand-delivered to Pieman Towers. This bumper nutritious bowl came from somewhere along Ky Dong Street in District 3, was accompanied by the hedgerow below plus a wee bag of mam tom and cost 8,000VD – that’s as much as I know. So, nothing new here, but a decent rendition, quality lunchtime nosh and an interesting comparison with previous Bun Rieu. If I ever make it to the stall itself, I’ll blog more.

Saigon Wonton

Noodlepie has been noodle-less, but not pie-less, for way too long. With feet firmly back on the streets we pick up where we left off with a surprise home delivery of Mi Hoanh Thanh. The Mi noodle is commonly used in fried noodle dishes and is pretty good deep-fried to a crunch and topped with seafood, veggies and any sauce-u-like. This noodle soup comes stuffed with delicate mini-dumplings or wonton (Hoanh thanh - wonton - geddit???) So, I guess we're talking a bastardised Chinese dish here. But, at 8,000VD a throw, I won't complain too much about the bastard in my bowl. The soup is a notch above wan and watery, but several rungs down from being a crock-rocker. Sadly, the 'hoanh thanhs' collapsed at my every touch with the minced pork and shrimp innards making a bid for freedom in soup jungle.

This Mi Hoanh Thanh came with the selection of veggies pictured above - beansprouts, lettuce, freshly sliced red chili, cilantro and a squeeze of lemon. Bung in what you like and off you go. It's a filla, not a stunna. This one came from somewhere in District 3. For a cheap and reliable Mi venue, you could drop by Mi Chu Tac at 20-6A Ky Dong street just down the road from Ngu Vien restaurant in District 3. Apparently, there's also a branch at 57 Ho Tung Mau in District 1. Mi Chu Tac boasts nine different Mi dishes including an excellent 'medicinal' duck dish - Mi Vit Tiem.

Street Bun Mam

There's one thing that's becomes disturbingly clear after rolling around the food blogging circuit for a wee while. I, and by 'I' I suppose I really mean 'we', eat far more than we blog - well I do... I'm sure this is true for most scoff-bloggers. Here's a prime example I've never blogged up before. Once a week or so, when I'm busy grafting, a lunchtime dish winds up at Pieman towers via our homehelp. I don't always know what it'll be, but I'm always game. Unfortunately, I don't always have the time to gad about the city searching out hot new joints and so, the home delivery, surprise factor works well. I know this bowl of Bun Mam originated somewhere on Cach Mang Thanh Tam street, somewhere in District 10 or 3 and I know it cost 10,000VD for the big bowl, but that's all I know.

Bun Mam is yet another... (yawn, yawn... Are these getting boring yet?) noodle soups which defy the definition 'soup'. In among this lot I unearthed; prawns, pork, fish, aubergine, spring onion and squid. Oh... and a reasonably thick bun (vermicelli noodle). You not only get the herb plate above, which comprises; 10 different veggies including Bong Sung (a purple thing. And 'No' I have no idea what this one's called in English), Cu Neo, which is the soft spongy fella, looks a bit like celery in the pic above and is a 'must' for a blindin' Canh Chua Ca and then there's Bap Chuoi, or banana flower. I had trouble with my definitions for this tricky chap on my previous Bun Bo Hue post, but I know my ground now. The soup is sweet with plenty of chili cutting through. In fact, this soup is utterly, gobfillingly gorgeous. Nothing short of a revelation. I cannot find fault with it. I promise to sniff out the address for this and blog in far more detail. It really is just too good to ignore the finer details on this one. I'll keep you posted.

Eel do nicely

We've covered this gaff - Quan An Ngon - before so I won't go into the histrionics of the restaurant, but I will say it's well worth poking your nose in here if your time is limited and you want to check out a very wide selection of nosh under one roof... errr... make that a banana tree or brolly actually. In the pic above, you can see the chef with a firey hot pan of oil dishing out the Banh Tom Ho Tay - again, we covered that yonks ago, so no need to prattle on more about it here, but it is indeed a fab fried thing. For today's lunch I dipped deep into the soup menu and plumped for Mien Luon (Eel soup with translucent noodles).

The eel is chopped into small chunks and fried beforehand before landing atop the translucent mien with a few sprigs of spring onion and finely chopped spring onion for company. On the side plate you'll find Quai, Rau Ram, some sliced onions, a bowl of nasty chili sauce and a squeeze of lemon. All in all, that's all you'll need to make your Mien luon sing with flavour. Personally, I hit the lemon first, chuck in a few ripped up herbs and get stuck in.

The soup itself is clear and very lightly flavoured. A splash of the chili would move things up a gear, but Vietnamese chili sauce is rank. It's the texture of the eel and noodle combo which I find appealing, much like in a Chao Luon (Eel rice porridge), but it's not for everyone. In fact some find the whole internal experience downright creepy. Not pieman - yum, yum. Gimme more eel dishes please. 18,000VD a bowl or just over a dollar. It's cheaper elsewhere, but this is the only southern rendition I've ingested so far.

Stall 1084 - Bun Moc

You can't stop the broth on Ben Thanh market. Bun Moc is yet another vermicelli noodle soaked soup and this time the dominant theme is spam. In all, you'll find three different kinds of mashed pork in among the chopped spring onions and light stock which constitute a bowl of Bun Moc at stall 1084. Of all the noodle soups blogged up from the market floor in recent months, this has to be the blandest of the bunch... so far.

It comes with all the usual suspects in a side dish (beansprouts, lettuce, the crunchtastic stripped morning glory, saw tooth herb and mint). A light shower of deep fried shallots followed by a dusting of pepper finished off the chef's prep. before my bowl was plonked down in front of me at this empty lunchtime stall. You can add sliced chilli, minced red chilli, various sauces and lemon halves, but I opted for the straight up version on this visit. First, the stock. There's little to distinguish it from stock cube stock whereas something along the lines of a simple Banh Canh stock would have worked very nicely here.

The spam sticks were all much of a muchness. The lighter and smaller one, just visible at the bottom of the picture above, gave out the spiciest vibes. I almost feel bad at not giving this a higher rating as those spam sticks are a time consuming ensemble to assemble... Oh well. Wouldn't rush back here for this dish, but I would try it elsewhere for comparison purposes. A big bowl of Bun Moc will set you back 10,000VD. This stall also serves Bun Rieu with Cua or Oc (Crab or Snail) for between 6-8000VD. View the business card.

Stall 1080 - Bun Bo Hue

Off the grog and on the grub again at Ben Thanh Market. This time for a soup stop at stall 1080. Bun Bo Hue is yet another of those Vietnamese non-soups. Much like Mi Quang and Bun Rieu the bowl's burstin' with bits of this 'n' that and your dish ends up far less soup, much more saucy meat noodle potpourri.

The name itself gives this dish away, Bun Bo Hue comes from the central region of Hue. More precisely, the real deal (apparently) comes from Gia Hoi. The key is the broth. It has a sweet tang to it and ladled in among the liquid are fatty pork slivers, rare beef, chopped spring onions, two kinds of spamsticks and fairly thick fresh bun (noodles). There's also a side dish of beansprouts, saw tooth herb and peculiar to Bun Bo Hue is the stripped end of a banana. (I say the 'end' as I wasn't sure what it was, so I asked the guy next me who said it was the 'banana end'. I'm inclined to believe we're talking green banana here, although my man insisted it wasn't... hmmm??) Anyhow... chuck a bit of what you fancy into your broth/saucy noodle bowl combo and get stuck in.