Keeping it Easy, Hoi An, Vietnam

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What is Banh Mi? Well, it may be said to be the tree that rose from the ashes of years of brutal colonialism, a testament to the adaptability of the Vietnamese people - cultural diffusion at its most sublime - a sandwich. And Banh Mi Phuong? It is the reason that should Hoi An be overrun by the living dead, the fires of hell enveloping the town in eternal damnation - Hoi An would, could and should remain on the tourist map. Anthony Bourdain visited this humble sandwich shop with his former employer - an internationally renowned chef and Vietnam enthusiast, who called it "the most elaborate banh mi I've ever seen." Strangely enough, we had watched that show and forgotten all about it, but Tara's friend Mara said she had tasted the best Banh Mi in Vietnam in Hoi An and sent us a picture of the joint and so we scoured the streets in search of the small shop with the wooden sign.

One food blogger - whose account is now taped to the glass below the mouth-watering ingredient table - came to this shop a year or so ago and brought up having seen the shop on television, but the woman behind the counter seemed confused. The next day he came back with a downloaded video of Bourdain at the shop and the woman went to get a friend to translate, it turned out that the woman standing behind the counter was in fact the woman in the video - she then asked through the translator if the men in the video were friends of his - to which he replied 'no, this is an international television show' and she didn't seem to believe him! Even more remarkably, on our third visit to the shop we beat a tour group by about 2 minutes, a cacophony of over fifty package tourists, forming a line that wrapped as far around the corner as the eye could see, down the street even- and in the brutal sun, waiting for the sandwiches which were taking at least four minutes each to make. The next day we came back at 2 o'clock and much to our chagrin, they were completely sold out. On our final day in Hoi An we were there by 11 am to purchase four sandwiches before our sad farewell. So what exactly is Banh Mi Phuong? It begins with a small loaf of French bread so flaky, so crispy, you'd swear you were in some suave Parisian bistro, with a soft, airy and chewy center combined with a thick spread of liver pate - and we can at the very least thank the French for that. From there it is all Vietnamese, a crimson red oily gravy with sauteed onions and crispy pork, a thin spread of mayonaise, a garlic and chili salsa, and a scorching chili spread (or the more mild version from the bottle – Phuoc On I think they call it- if you don’t want to mess with the heat) and soy sauce and sautéed butter are options as well, then of course there are the crunchy veggies which set the tone for texture - green onion, fermented carrot and daikon, fresh coriander - and meat, chicken, pork, other pork, more kinds of pork, ham, sausage, ground pork, Vietnamese sausage, any combination of the above - you want a fried egg on top, no problem. What is the truly maddening part about it all, the reason I still wake up from a dead sleep, scratching my head in wild befuddlement? Despite the international acclaim, the busloads of tourists, the fact that it is hands down the best in the city, if not the country and therefore the world - at Banh Mi Phuong a sandwich still sells for only 20,000 VND - the equivalent of $1 US - which happens to be fifty cents less than most of the other vendors are trying to hawk theirs for - and no matter how long the line or how difficult the language barrier, they take serious care to make sure it is made exactly how you want it. That, my good friends is Banh Mi Phuong.

This of course is not just a sandwich, it is the soul, the embodiment of Hoi An – a wild symphony of flavors and colors, sights and sounds, a sensory overload of epic proportions – and yet it is the quaint, quiet majesty of the breezy riverside streets that ultimately make this rare pearl so divine to behold. Mojitos here are only $1 if you know where to look, and they are the genuine article, unlike their $1 counterparts in places like Siem Reap where you may – and we actually have - get a cheap gin with soda water and a few mint leaves on top, minus any sugar – with a server nodding like a bobble head that of course this is the genuine article. Fresh beer – known as ‘bia hoi’ can be had here for as little as twenty cents at most shops, at any hour of the day or night. One stop for a drink led us into the sensuous gastronomical world of Central Vietnamese street food. In fact, the first shop we happened to see on our first night walking along the river (the comparatively grimy end closer to the sea where motorbikes are allowed to drive) that had twenty-cent mugs of bia hoi sold us on a sit down and that brought us the menu of local specialties which in turn led to Banh Xeo and Cao Lau and the many wonders of Central Vietnamese Coastal Cuisine. Banh Xeo - a sizzling Vietnamese-French hybrid crepe, crispy on the outside and chewy on the inside, filled with bean sprouts and either ground pork, steak, shrimp or all of the above – is served with fresh Vietnamese herbs and lettuce, which are wrapped around a small bit of the crepe, which is in turn wrapped with softened rice papers, the entire thing garnished with some red chilies and then dipped into a light and flavorful Vietnamese style 'fish sauce' which in no way resembles it's rank smelling Thai cousin by the same name. And there was Cao Lau - thick and chewy rice noodles, a vibrant salty stock, fried pork croutons and tender bits of sliced pork, piled high with fresh raw herbs - how stoned were the people who came up with these combinations? Well your guess is as good as mine - but my god does it work and with some cold mojitos and twenty cent beers to wash it down well Hoi An is the type of place you could really find yourself getting lost for some time.

That first night I was in need of a wheelbarrow and someone to wheel me home – I was almost full enough to shed what little dignity we had left on one of those rickshaw bicycle contraptions, but not really that desperate, and so we walked back past the produce market and took the long walk back toward our hotel, which was actually a fair walk east of town center toward the coast. As we walked I was wondering what was really so beautiful and charming about Hoi An – albeit I didn’t really care and in fact like sitting around in shabby looking areas with shirtless locals, greasy food and cheap beer – it was less a problem than a curiosity. We headed back to our guesthouse which had been recommended by a 22 year old friend and a 24 year old friend and my only advice is if you are 28 try not to take guesthouse recommendations from kids six-years your junior. The place was overrun with shirtless gap year boys on their way either to the beach, gym, bar or all of the above – and girls who say things like ‘what’s that city’s name Huue? Hway? Well I like Hoooey, I’m gonna call it Hoooey (giggles all around) What our taxi’s here already, seriouslyyyy? Well, they can wait (giggles) Somebody gonna grab some road beers or whaaaat?’ – making sure to shout it loud enough, mind you, that everyone knows she’s there. It was ok, I had enough beer and oil in my gut to put me out like a light and what a first night in old Hoi An.

Well day number two was an absolute scorcher and in an attempt to be frugal we followed the guesthouse map which clearly was made with the intention to fool guests into believing their location to be somewhere equidistant from town and beach. Well we got on along the road and after about two kilometers and no beach in sight seriously weighed our options of turning and going back to rent a bicycle, but being both stubborn and ridiculous as we are – willing to throw away $20 for pizza and Belgian Beer one night, but too cheap on other days to spend $2 on a bicycle rental – we just trudged on in the 100 plus degree heat with absolutely no shade, the kind of South East Asian sun where you literally say to yourself 'son of a bitch, that actually hurts my skin.' After more than three kilometers we arrived at the beach and it was absolute paradise – fine yellow sand with a beautiful palm tree backdrop and surprisingly not crowded at all, though I suspect the lack of reclining chairs and umbrellas may have had something to do with that. We actually sought refuge under the palms for about forty-five minutes before sprinting across the sand – it was that hot – and throwing ourselves into the water. Cheap drinks – check, food – you already know, nice beach, alright five nights in Hoi An it would be then.

That night we took a walk down to the historical section of town – the area that has earned the city the designation of UNESCO World Heritage Site, where Chinese merchant ships, Dutch, Japanese, Indians and later French had all come from the sea, floated up the river and set up shop and you can see why. We stopped at a small tea shop run by deaf women looking for a way toward economic empowerment. Set within a former Chinese merchant house, Reaching Out Tea House was the absolute picture of non-doing. The decorations whisper simplicity, communication with the deaf employees is done using small wooden blocks with simple words written across them, and signs encourage patrons to enjoy the silence (a rare sentiment in most parts of South East Asia) and we sat by the window and lost ourselves in the street life for quite some time.

The three main streets that run parallel to the river are filled with traditional Chinese merchant houses, elaborately built and decorated to attract customers of the trade hub to their shops – and the Clan Houses where special ceremonies, ancestor worship and the like could help carry on their local traditions abroad. The area of town is simply magical, it is intoxicating, yet there is so little hustle and bustle – sure there are tourists and locals, but it’s as if everyone understands that to move too fast or speak too loud here is of the utmost offense to all that is calm and serene. Many of these areas are closed off to car and motorbike traffic, further enhancing the Zen like tranquility – and yet it is not until the sun sets that the true Hoi An emerges. As you roam the streets by the light of day you will be drawn to the proliferation of colorful silk lanterns being sold throughout the city – beautiful enough to photograph by day – otherworldly at night. When the sun sets, there are no street lights, all fluorescent lights are cut and the streets are lit solely by the rainbow of paper lanterns. Across the river is a small island, sea to the east and river to the west – connected to the mainland by the most spectacularly lit bridge. Once across the bridge, more beautiful open air restaurants and a quiet night market, the river filled with vintage ships also lit by colorful lanterns – and from the open air second story table vantage of the island we sat and sipped twenty-cent beers and ate dollar-fifty plates of food in awe of the scene across the river. It’s how I imagine Venice or Prague as far as architectural style, but interspersed with beautiful Chinese architecture – completely cut from the hustle and bustle of automobile traffic – soft yet bright and vivid with the glow of the lanterns – it is not Vietnam, China or Europe, it is simply otherworldly. Places like this never existed in my mind – so cynical I had become by years of competition, grades and rankings, pressures and paperwork, forms and bullshit that I had rendered my poor mind incapable to even dream of a world like this – but here it is, there you go man, dah you go.

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Photos

Candle light
A young girl sells candle lit boats to sail down the river.

Riverside
The beautifully colorful riverside.

Paper Lanterns
The signature of Hoi An.

Comments

[Home and Away]

Best blog I've read about Hoi An...
because you didn't mention the tailors, but the food! I can vouch for your description, including starting with the French bread...the Vietnamese make French bread much better than anything I've eaten in France.