Wanderful World

Ms. Saigon (Part 3) - Bread and Coffee

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This trip convinced me that the best coffee in the world is Vietnamese drip coffee. The beans used are very fragrant and the taste of the brew has notes of hazelnut.

We tried it in different places, the first time at Baby Spoon, a restaurant near our hotel, where we were approached every 10 minutes or so by street vendors selling all sorts of knickknacks. For a true Viet experience, I suggest you proceed to the other end of the sidewalk where locals enjoy their blend on low tables and stools.

We also tried the coffee at the Trung Nguyen coffeeshop, a popular chain similar to our Figaro. And we had another cup in one of the kiosks in Ben Thanh market, over breakfast of French bread and pate (more about the pate later). We were never disappointed.

Still, the best one I tried was at Highlands coffeeshop, another popular chain of coffee stores similar to Seattle's Best and Starbucks. Maybe they use coffee from Buon Ma Thuot because I read somewhere that the best Vietnamese coffee comes from this area. Or maybe they just mix theirs really well.

Vietnamese coffee is served in an interesting fashion. The tiny coffee filter pot (it looks like a cup made of either stainless steel or aluminum) has four components: the cup itself, the saucer that it sits on, a disc-like filter piece with holes, and a cover. The filter cup together with the saucer sits on top of your coffee mug or cup, which contains condensed milk for later mixing. If you look inside, you'll see coffee grounds pressed by the filter disk. Hot water is poured over the filter pot and covered. The brew will slowly drip into your coffee cup. It's a very charming setup. When the dripping stops, stir the coffee so that it blends with the condensed milk. No need to add milk or sugar.

For more info on how to prepare your own Vietnamese drip coffee, go to Ineedcoffee.com.

You must go to Ben Thanh market early (before 7 am preferably) to buy their superb French bread. It's perfectly crusty yet soft and airy inside. Enjoy it as a banh mi, a sandwich with vegetable and meat fillings. Or like I wanted to, with plain butter. Clang, Keith, Shisha and I found a spot in one of the kiosks for our breakfast and we ordered hot coffee and butter to enjoy it with. Minutes later, I was served two slices of what looked like liver. I asked the lady if it was butter and she said yes. I asked if it was pate, with Keith pointing to his side where his liver is. The lady adamantly said no. She insisted that it was butter, claiming that in Vietnam, they have two kinds: the yellow one and the one served to me just now, deep-fried. I gave it a taste and confirmed my suspicion that it was indeed pate. I was disappointed, though amused that they sell pate in the market. How sosyal. 

 

Ms. Saigon (Part 1)

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Ms. Sonya treated us (me, Clang, Keith and Shisha) to a trip to Ho Chi Minh last month to celebrate the release of our beautiful coffeetable book, Sonya's Secret Garden. This was my first visit to HCMC although I wasn't entirely new to Vietnam because I've been to Hanoi. My benefactor and her troupe, however, visit HCMC two to three times a year to shop, mostly for embroidered linens.

Our first stop (after the hotel, that is): Ben Thanh market, which was just across Ngan Ha Hotel where we were staying.

What a sensory feast! Stall after stall of fragrant fruits, coffee, dried goods and savory dishes. So many colorful handicrafts, linen and clothes. We were tapped, patted, pulled, cajoled to check out the merchandise. We sat on low stools to have a taste of various fruits peeled and cut for us by vendors. Haggling is a must. One of the power shoppers suggested we start at 50% off and negotiate from there.

Aside from shopping, we relied on Ben Thanh for many of our meals. On our first night, Sonya treated us to dinner in one of the makeshift stalls. We couldn't resist ordering fresh coconut because the one we had at lunch was so sweet and refreshing.

Small World, Big Mouth

I have swum among manta rays in the Spratleys, consorted with a naked dancing queen on a remote island in Palawan, chased dervishes in Bali and offered libations to spirits in Baguio.

I usually travel with a half-drawn plan, leaving enough room for fate to take its course. Chance encounters happen. Serendipity deals a hand. And without fail, I leave with a richer past. Also without fail, I leave a bigger person. Much, much bigger.

Travel, I find, expands not only the mind but also the girth. From the time I went on my first solo trip abroad at the age of 19 to this day, I have added four inches to my waistline, and I can account for every millimeter of it – the warm, flaky croissant at the breakfast room in Hotel Merlot in Paris, the mugful of Malapacao Special in El Nido, the potato curry pizza at Café Jr at the Langham Place in Hong Kong, not to mention the pad Thai of People’s Palace, the pandan sans rival of M Café, the velvet prawns of Little Asia. Then there’s that first taste of lechon Cebu after two years of being vegetarian.

Four inches, and my life is better for it. 

I know that every meal, as in every trip, has a story to tell. If I let it spin its own tale and stay out of the way, something vivid unfolds.

So with great expectations, I arm myself with well-worn shoes and a ready fork, wishing that my heart will always be as full as my tummy.

Also published in GMANews.tv