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Xoi (sticky rice), makes for a cheap and easy Saigon breakfast

Nguyen Thi Kiem, who is now nearly 80 years old, sells xoi at the corner of Pasteur and Le Thanh Ton streets in Ho Chi Minh City’s District 1

For the past 40 years, Nguyen Thi Kiem has fed Saigon its breakfast. The septuagenarian remains forever courteous and careful in her interaction with customers.

Today, Kiem’s loyal following even includes a few foreign regulars. Every morning, they visit her stand on the corner of Pasteur and Le Thanh Ton streets to grab a wad of xoi.

She only sells three kinds of the popular breakfast food: xoi dau phong (peanut sticky rice), xoi dau xanh (sticky rice with green bean) and, her biggest seller, xoi bap (sweet sticky rice with corn, sugar, fried onions, and smashed cooked green beans).

“Sometimes my customers sit on the pavement and eat one, two, or even three helpings,” she says.

Xoi is prepared and eaten differently in Vietnam’s various regions. The basic ingredient of xoi is glutinous rice that has been soaked in salt water overnight. The various additional ingredients are often prepared with the rice, creating a unique variety of colors and flavors.

Kiem’s menu covers all the basic styles of southern sticky rice, with a few exceptions.

Xoi gac (momordica or bitter melon sticky rice) is a popular option made from bitter melon seeds which, when added to the glutinous rice, yield a bright orange hue. You can usually spot it as its rolled around town on various steaming carts.

Momordica is never eaten alone. When cooked, however, it imbues the rice with a fatty buttery taste that makes it a popular breakfast item.

Xoi dau xanh usually comes out bright yellow and has the savory-sweet taste of the green beans.

Xoi nep than (black sticky rice) derives its hue from the firm, naturally black strain of rice.

Green mung beans, condensed coconut milk and coconut shavings are added to the food to make it more appealing. Xoi dau den (sticky rice with black bean) is a softer rice studded with al dente black beans.

In the south, the most popular sticky rice is xoi man (savory sticky rice) consisting of a galaxy of savory local items: Chinese sausage and quail eggs are topped with fried shallots. It’s usually sprinkled with a bit of soy sauce.

A meal of sticky rice should never run more than VND15,000 (US$0.75).

Pushcart vendors ply sticky rice throughout the city, all day long. If you can’t find one of them, or are interested in some special varietals, you may also want to check out the following spots:

* Kiem’s booth at the corner of Pasteur and Le Thanh Ton streets in District 1.

* Xoi ga (sticky rice with chicken), xoi gac (momordica sticky rice) at 111 Bui Thi Xuan Street, District 1.

* Xoi thap cam (sticky rice with dried shrimp, chicken and Chinese sausage) on the corner of Cao Thang and Dien Bien Phu streets in District 3.

* Xoi khuc (a rice ball made from glutinous rice, green bean and pork) near the corner of Pham Van Hai and Bui Thi Xuan streets in Tan Binh District.

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Hanoi’s traditional doughnut

Deep freid savory doughnuts are a popular snack in Hanoi - Photo: Thanh Huong

Hanoi’s traditional doughnuts, called banh ran, are cheap and tasty. Street vendors sell a lot as snacks especially in the cold weather.

It’s not so complicated to make a doughnut.  The ingredients for the dough are sticky rice powder, rice powder and cooking oil.

There are two types of doughnuts, depending on the filling. The savory type has minced pork meat, vermicelli, wood ear mushrooms and some pepper while sweet doughnuts have boiled ground green bean, coconut pulp and white sugar. They also come in different shapes – the savory ones are oval and the sweet ones are round. Once the dough is made and the filling put in the doughnuts are deep fried.

Fried doughnuts smell irresistible. Savory doughnuts are served with fish sauce prepared with vinegar, chili, garlic, sugar and some pepper. Taking a piece of dipped doughnut into the mouth, you can enjoy the delicious combination of greasy sticky rice and pork meat. It is hard to stop at one.

The round doughnuts are delicious in their covering of sesame seeds. They usually sell out quickly. Round doughnuts are special because the crispy cover is completely separated from the core made from green bean – making the donuts rattle when you shake them. Only a few of the banh ran vendors in Hanoi can cook the sweet doughnuts the traditional way so they rattle.

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The chè lady

The best dessert in Ho Chi Minh City is being ladled up on a street corner

Ms. Thanh preparing chè đậu at her spot near the corner of Cao Ba Nha and Cong Quynh streets in Ho Chi Minh City’s District 1

Thanh, 50, lives in an endless cycle of chè.

Every night, before going to bed, she starts soaking the beans and glutinous rice for tomorrow’s batch. Up at 3 a.m., she begins boiling pot after pot of the subtly sweet, bean-based dessert.

By nine, she hires a man to help her haul her low red stools, washing buckets and serving bowls to her little corner on Cong Quynh and Cao Ba Nha streets in District 1. The operation takes two trips. The xe om (motorbike taxi) driver doesn’t seem to mind. And no one has ever bothered to steal her dented aluminum vessels filled with sticky rice and sweet coconut soup.

“They’re very heavy,” she said.

Thanh cracks on a coal fire and begins simmering the dessert just as the streets fill with throngs of motorbikes and mini-trucks. By 11 a.m., she is open for business. For the remainder of the day, she navigates between the pots like an octopus – ladling coconut milk soup on top of wads of rice on top of more soup.

She moves in fluid sweeps of her hands and arms. Occasionally, she rises to tend her fire, or to lift a shopping bag hanging off the rusty coils of barbed wire behind her and dump a mass of cubed taro, manioc or sweet potato into the pale sweet broth.

The motions follow a sort of flawless pattern, one that has been practiced seven days per week for some 30 years. Thanh hardly ever takes a day off and she only goes home when she has sold off every last scoop of chè. This may happen as early as 4 p.m. Don’t expect to find her after 6 or 7 p.m.

Once home, she usually eats half a bowl of rice and is in bed by 9 p.m.

In her free moments on the corner, when she is not being harried by customers, she uses an open-bottomed cup to fill clear plastic baggies with the various desserts. When customers sidle up on motorbikes, she twists a rubber band quickly around the baggies and hands them over with a grin.

She doesn’t eat her own concoctions. Instead, she lunches on a cup of tepid winter melon soup. Some days, she says, she doesn’t get around to eating it.

Thanh has an excellent stomach, she swears, and it tolerates whatever she chooses to eat or not eat.

She used to make many varieties of chè, but she is getting old, she says. So, now, there are just five – all of which are slathered in her frothy coconut broth. Chè khoai combines al dente bits of purple taro in a gummy sticky rice porridge. Chè táo xọn consists of a clear tapioca gel studded with green lentils while chè bắp eats like some sort of condensed creamed corn. Chè bà ba simmers bright orange chunks of cassava and chewy translucent tapioca cubes in a lighter version of the coconut base. She serves it with a spoonful of boiled peanuts.

Thanh says that even if we watched her make her chè đậu, we still wouldn’t know how to cook the white cow beans without turning them to mush. They are perfectly firm as your teeth sink into the glutinous mass of sticky rice swimming in the creamy coconut soup.

Chè đậu has a familiar feel in the mouth, not unlike Christmas cookie dough, though all of Thanh’s concoctions maintain a subtle flavor that can’t be found in most western sweets. She is selling comfort food – simple, gooey – with a soft homey flavor that can only be likened to the taste of carrot soups.

Even though her little spot is located on a neat stretch of sidewalk under a striped awning, she wears a conical famer’s hat on top of her tidy hair bun. On two separate visits, she wore a long-sleeved sweater – even in the stifling midday heat.

One day she forgot the items. She looked down to see her arms covered in grime. When she ran a hand through her hair, it came away caked in dust and dirt.

“I was so ashamed,” she said as she deftly moved between her pots. “I worried my customers would think I wasn’t clean. But it wasn’t me. It’s the dirty street.”

Over the years, Thanh has cultivated a certain amnesia about this corner that, she says, keeps her sane. She has seen many strange things in her days there. “But I don’t want to keep them all,” she says. “So the following day, I just let them pass.”

In the past three decades, Thanh has remained one of the few constants on this stretch of Cong Quynh.

She estimates that 70 percent of the families sold their homes and moved away since her mother started selling chè here before her.

“It used to be small homes,” she says. “Now I’m surrounded by palaces.”

Those that bought into the neighborhood knocked down the old homes to build bigger ones. While the value of the buildings around her has shot up several million dollars, Thanh’s treats remain an immutable bargain.

Three years ago, she had to move her operation across the street because a new restaurant opened up behind her. Last year, she raised her prices from VND3,000 to VND4,000 (15 to 20 US cents) per bowl.

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