
5.45
a.m. at the fish market in Nha Trang, Central Vietnam. I'm sitting at
a low wooden table on a tiny blue plastic stool on the sand. Opposite
me a woman is smearing three small round blackened pans with pieces
of pork fat. Once the fat has sizzled she removes it with wooden chopsticks
then throws in some chopped up pieces of squid which are fried until
golden on both sides.
The
cooking smells are irresistible.
Now
she ladles in a thin stream of rice flour batter and swirls it around.
When the mixture begins to bubble she covers the pancakes briefly with
three small lids, then folds the pancakes in half, grabs a plate and
serves them to me with a wide smile and sparkling eyes.
They're
tricky to eat with chopsticks and already a small group of women and
children have gathered around to watch me. I'm the only Westerner in
sight, especially at this time of the morning. They giggle and point,
trying to show me how to eat them. The pancakes (which are absolutely
delicious) keep slipping back onto the plate. They become even more
slippery when she points to a bowl on the table with a dipping sauce
and shows me how to dunk them into it. One of the giggling women leans
forward offering me a spoon while another points to a bowl of fresh
green leaves and herbs which are meant to accompany the pancakes.
It's
the best meal I've had yet on my journey from Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon)
to Hanoi. If I'd breakfasted in the hotel I'd have been offered an airy
baguette with jam and butter and a cup of strong robusta coffee sweetened
with condensed milk.
At this
time of the morning the fish market is bustling. Women in straw-coloured
conical hats are quarreling and shouting over circular bamboo trays
full of tiny silver fish, sardines, squid and prawns. Nearby a man is
sawing a large block of ice which is used to keep the seafood chilled.
The
marketplace is the focal point of life in Vietnam. Whether it be in
a major city, a small hilltown or by the sea, it's the busiest part
of town and the best place to start any exploration of Vietnamese food.
Fresh
ingredients are vital to the Vietnamese and, due to lack of refrigeration,
the majority of households shop twice a day at their local market. Some
markets - like Ben Thanh in Ho Chi Minh and Trung Tam Thuong Mai Bai
Chay in Halong - are under cover, whilst others (like the fish markets
at Nha Trang and Hoi An) are exposed to the elements.
No matter
what town I visited it was to the markets I headed first and it didn't
take me long to become addicted to the sounds, smells and flavours of
these lively places of commerce.
The
vitality of the market spills out onto the streets. No matter where
you are in Vietnam you'll come across someone wanting to sell you food,
be it an elderly woman carrying a "don ganh" (two baskets
slung from each end of a wooden or bamboo pole) or a man pushing a bicycle
cart and ringing a little bell to announce his approach, selling freshly
cut pieces of fruit (watermelon, pineapple), caramelized popcorn or
steaming hot rolls.
But
it was the women carrying the "don ganh" (or yoke) who really
fascinated me. In their baskets they carry all manner of foods, including
fresh custard apples, bright orange persimmons, green and yellow bananas,
avocados, baguettes or spring rolls.
More
often than not though, they carry a portable kitchen - in one basket
sits a charcoal brazier on top of which is a large pot of simmering
stock. In the other basket are stacked bowls of noodles, fresh herbs,
sliced meat, spoons, bowls and cups. Heavy loads indeed! They stop anywhere
and set up shop, a truly inspiring feat to watch. What's more - you
don't need to find them, they'll find you. Just stand on a street corner
long enough and and someone will offer you something to eat. And let
me assure you - it will be delicious!