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It’s safe to say that one of the most authentic culinary experiences one could have in Vietnam is to sit on a stool, in an eatery that feels very much like someone’s house, and slurp on a bowl of piping hot noodles. The noodles here can be any dishes from the plethora of noodle dishes so dominant in Vietnamese cuisine, and this hủ tiếu mực, or squid vermicelli, establishment has got all of the above to offer.
“This furniture has been around for many decades, but you can use them normally without the fear of breaking them. Because they are industrial equipment made for the military or office buildings, they were manufactured to be hard as a rock,” explains Hoàng, a vintage military interior enthusiast. This durability is one of the many qualities that made Hoàng fall in love with the furniture, going so far as to set up a unique shop dedicated to them.
When I used to live in Hanoi, I always knew that if an eatery only opens for half a day, the food is probably certified, at least by the locals, to be not only good, but excellent. There is something written in the local traditions that specific dishes should be served at particular times of the day.
When Saigoneer’s office relocated from District 1’s downtown to District 3 earlier this year, one of the instantly noticeable changes was the increase in affordable eating options.
Not being a picky eater was somewhat of a personal point of pride for me growing up. I have my family to thank for this, as their immense patience and open-mindedness have encouraged me to explore as many eclectic delicacies and novel ingredients as possible during my formative years. So whenever a wild new dish comes along that challenges my palate so much I struggle to finish even one portion, I can’t help but consider it a personal blunder. Much apologies to bún cua Gia Lai, I have failed you.
There’s not much you can say about phở that hasn't already been said. From its complicated origin to its deliciousness to its ubiquity on Saigon’s streets, the subject has been covered ad nauseam. However, phở chua Lạng Sơn — mixed dry phở with sweet and sour sauce — is uncharted territory.
Growing up in Saigon before the surge of foreign dessert trends like milk tea, cheese tarts, and bingsu, the humble and affordable Milo powder found in almost every grocery store and street vendor was the pinnacle of my childhood dessert universe. Be it a bowl of shaved ice, a cup of milk tea, or a luscious smoothie, I was that determined child who would unabashedly mix Milo powder or cocoa into my beverages to "enhance" their flavors. The harmonious interplay of the powder's bitterness blending with the sweetness of milk, against the backdrop of chilly ice, created the perfect concoction for Saigon's sweltering climate.
When Saigoneer first announced a few weeks ago that Vietnam’s railway network would be the centerpiece of our next themed article series, a number of readers joked in the comment section that who in their right mind would love Vietnamese trains.
With its tiled walls, neon signs, and red-and-white color palette, The Smash Saigon appears to emulate the classic aesthetics of American diners. These motifs are so heavily associated with American comfort food — burgers, fries, milkshakes — that, wandering into The Smash, guests might guess at its menu before even seeing it. But they’d only be half right.
“When you turn it on, the train is not only moving, but it can make sounds too. The sounds are so authentic that when I listen to it, I feel like I am sitting on a real train right now,” Minh Tú, a Saigon-based model train aficionado, shares with me the satisfied feeling every time he gets a mini train to run.
The arrival of the rainy season in Saigon has left me craving for hot meals to beat the cold, damp weather. I was on my way home from work in the aftermath of a bout of rain one day and found myself in search of a warm, broth-based afternoon meal. Through the help of Google Maps, I decided to go to a bò kho place only 10 minutes from the office, Bò Kho Dì Út (Auntie Út's Beef Stew).
During my teenage years when a lot of us were trying new things, I can remember certain trending items affected our lifestyle. For me, amongst the most memorable was the Hypebeast culture that caught my friends' attention. In high school, many tried to dress like their favorite rappers by mixing sneakers and hoodies with the school uniform. While I was not much of a fashion enthusiast, I did have a personal fascination with Rastaclat bracelets.
Before the birth of TikTok and food review channels, many Saigoneers already grew up with their own set of staple food gems. As a youngster, I would visit the city's familiar, delicious food stalls with my mom and little brother after a long day at school, snacking on all the desserts and food. Even though many stalls do not exist on Google Maps, thanks to word of mouth, they are always lively and crowded from opening to closing.
As summer draws closer, bringing with it a sweltering sun and drenched T-shirts, one's mind can't help but drift to the incomparable delight of a snowy treat that can ward off the season's heat.
Even during the summer, when the sun bares its teeth and snarls at passing clouds, one must eat. But lugging a belly stuffed with hot, heavy soup, rice and meat through days devoid of shade sounds horrible. So I often settle for lighter fare. Fruit, salads, cold noodles. One of my favorite items for supplying nutrients without overburdening the little thermal factory that is my metabolism is rice paper rolls.
One fine day a few months ago, I embarked on a search for the flavors of faraway lands across Vietnam, all of which are present in a hẻm in the middle of Saigon.
There’s not much you’ll need to do to persuade me to drive, walk, crawl, scuttle or skate along the Nhiêu Lộc-Thị Nghè Canal — I adore its shaded, tree-lined pavements that much.
Kimchi is not a common cơm tấm accouterment. The extra helping of chili pepper heat, palate-cleansing bitterness and cabbage leaf crunch doesn't taste out of place beside a fully loaded plate of broken rice, it’s just not a common feature of the southern staple. This is not so at Cà Phê Đỗ Phủ-Cơm Tấm Đại Hàn, where the story behind kimchi’s existence on the plate is more interesting than the meal itself.