Given that we had missed at least two meals (breakfast and brunch), the first port of call after striking out from the flat was a spot for lunch. Fortunately, one of the other vegetarian-only restaurants, Quán Ăn Chay Tib, was on our route to the river today. We stopped in for a refreshing coconut juice (served chilled in the coconut itself) and some very moreish chewy rice paper rolls stuffed with tofu and vegetables. The wrapper was like bánh tráng used for 'summer' rolls but much thicker, chewier and opaque. The rolls came with a peanut sauce and some mind-shattering razor-thin slices of orange and yellow chilli peppers.
To follow, I tucked into a gratifying bowl of thin rice noodles topped with an array of textures: root vegetable mix, chopped spring rolls, beansprouts and cucumber. Mixed with the accompanying sweet seasoned sauce, the flavours were delicately balanced and reminded me of a dish I tasted in a Vietnamese restaurant in Berlin.
After a stroll along what I presume to be a canal off-shoot from the Saigon River, we came to the botanical gardens. The blue sky had turned dark and the wind had picked up. Savvy locals were quickly donning raincoats and leaping into waiting taxis. The change was sudden and, after only a few preparatory drops, the clouds shed their load with alarming ferocity. Fortunately, taking our queue from those with greater foresight, we had positioned ourselves within stumbling distance of a coffee shop. Taking refuge from the monsoon, we took a front-row seat under cover for the sound and light show. After less than an hour, and a seriously sweet and strong Vietnamese iced coffee, the rain had all but stopped. Lesson the first learned about the weather: it is short and sharp and favours those prepared to ad lib.
Returning home after a brief trip to 'downtown' District 1, where we saw the highest concentration of Western faces so far, we stopped by a charming little place in District 3 decorated with strings of fairy lights outside and a crowd of contented looking patrons eating al fresco. The temptation to join them was irresistible, but paging through the menu brought a sinking feeling to my stomach. It was extensive, but majored on the lesser eaten parts of animals - chicken testicles, pig's brain and, presumably a gift from French colonialism, fried frog's legs. Fortunately, good lucked graced us as we discovered a vegetarian section hidden at the back of the menu. This brought us some of the greasiest food we have so far eaten, but included the Vietnamese specialty of bánh xèo.
Literally meaning "sizzling cake", it is a large rice flour omelette made with turmeric and typically stuffed with meat and beansprouts. In this case the bánh xèo chay (there's that word again) contained mushrooms in place of meat. It was served with a pile of mixed leaves - lettuce, a few bitter mustard leaves and some sweet aniseedy basil - and a thin, sweet dipping sauce with red chillies, which I suspect contained non-vegetarian fish sauce. However, the sauce cut through the fatty pancake nicely. Despite having been roughly cut into pieces, the pancake was still a little unwieldy to eat. I later learned that pieces of the pancake should be rolled into the leaves, dipped and eaten. Apparently it is best eaten fresh and 'sizzling' from a street vendor. I shall look out for this.
Being unhealthy and fried, the food paired well with beer. We ventured our first sips of Vietnamese beer: 333 (apparently pronounced ba-ba-ba, 5.3%, can, bland) and Saigon beer (4.9%, bottle, blander). Both were served poured into a glass containing an enormous ice cube. Unsure of the local custom, I left the ice in, although it was largely unnecessary as the beer arrived chilled. It did serve to water down the beer as it melted, in case the flavour overwhelmed me. More on Vietnamese beer later, I'm sure.
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