Savouring Saigon

The Age

Saturday June 3, 2006

JOHN LETHLEAN

Dining out in the streets of Vietnam reminds John Lethlean of home.

I WASN'T KIDDING myself. I knew this wasn't some kind of cultural/culinary treading of a path no white man had trod before. And I won't bore you with pissing contests devoted to the eating of impossibly improbable food a la Anthony Bourdain (although the cuckoo we tried one night had character, and I'd give the coconut pupae a spin over the goat udder any time). Nor would I suggest it was the crossing of some kind of Rubicon that conferred special status, beyond that of "mere tourist"

Still, there was undeniably a "moment". One of great novelty on the part of the giggling stallholders at Saigon's Cho Ben Than (Ben Than Market) when I sat myself down for a mid-morning snack.

While all around other food vendors beckoned tourists to eat their weird-looking muck with a fervour bordering on mild aggression, making it so hard to browse and make some kind of informed decision, this little corner of what is this city's main mixed market (for tourists anyway) was an outpost of diffidence. "You want to sit down and eat here?" the three ladies - they are always ladies - seemed to ask as, indeed, I sat down to eat what turned out to be one of the great snacks of 11 days in and around Saigon.

In truth, I was playing it safe. I was looking for some kind of middle ground: interesting food that hopefully wouldn't leave me bent double over a toilet somewhere (anywhere) gulping for humid air. The market food stalls, particularly on that initial, eye-opening day wandering the steamy city on holiday, don't leave you brimming with confidence about food hygiene. But the moment I saw what turned out to be banh beo Hue, a selection of soft rice noodle morsels splashed with a sweet and salty dressing, powdered dried shrimp, fresh chilli and coriander, which cost about 40 cents, I knew I was sitting down. Fantastic.

Of all the meals in nearly two weeks in Saigon visiting my brother - and Vietnam is undoubtedly a food lover's paradise where a meal out can often cost less than a cup of coffee in Melbourne's city centre - the simplest stand out in my memory with the greatest clarity. This market encounter was one.

Lunch at a modest restaurant - Ngu Vien - was another. It specialises in the food of Hue (lots of rice-flour paste and home of the aforementioned banh beo) and a Melbourne foodie of renown had put it on a "must" list. Thank goodness. It consists of a marvellous small courtyard and not much else. My notes read: "Brilliant food - best I had. Incredibly well priced. Bit of a trip from the centre ($3-$4 in a taxi, maybe $1 if you're prepared to do the "Honda hug" - riding on the back of a little motorbike, which is great fun and not nearly as scary as it sounds) - but worth it. No tourists. Try the banh vot thit nuong - grilled pork wrapped with various herbs in rice noodle and a brown, citrus sauce."

I'm hoping to find food like this in Melbourne; all suggestions appreciated.

But almost inevitably, the strongest memory of eating in Saigon is one of eating pho - pronounced "fur" - because it's the national staple. To eat pho is to participate. Pho - rice noodle soup - comes in many styles; I'm not going to pretend I'm an expert.

I had one bowl at a "restaurant" near an outlying market where my brother's housekeeper shopped, that was sensational, powerful, hot, intriguing. God knows what was in it. I had another at a central Saigon pho shop his driver insisted I visit because "President Clinton went there". It was dull as dishwater, but then what would you expect of a place that advertises, in English, "purified ice, UV sterilised water, no sugar, no MSG". Fake pho.

But the best was simply the best because of the circumstances: getting off the plane and going straight into the old part of Saigon's centre, District 1, to do something I've done a million times in Victoria Street, where I consider a bowl of pho to be a non-negotiable fortnightly ritual.

But this was the real thing.

Communal tables; big, stainless bowls of herbs and other Vietnamese greens; masses of green, lime-like lemons; bowls of sliced fresh chilli; the usual collection of chopsticks and cutlery, fish sauce, sugar and other condiments to use as you see fit; rubbish bags at the end of each table; locally brewed Heineken - a status beer - at about $1 a time; and floral plastic "china" bowls full of chicken pho - super authentic, no frills, culinary thrills. Say the notes: "amazing flavours, extraordinary value (about $1). Not touristy at all."

What a great introduction to a city.

But the whole experience left me with the inescapable conclusion that Melbourne's pho shops are remarkably authentic. Yes, the prices are different; and they don't sell Heineken. But what you can get in Richmond, Footscray or St Albans - even the city - provides a remarkably convenient, satisfying and even thrilling opportunity for ersatz food tourism.

You might even have a moment of your own.

Pho Pasteur is in Pasteur Street in Saigon's District 1. Pho Hoa, nearby, is quite famous, but my brother, who lived there, liked this one better.

Ngu Vien, 40 Ky Dong, District 3, Ho Chi Minh City (84.8) 437 670

Chu The, 270 Victoria Street, Richmond, 9427 7749