Eat Drink Style The Echo Park Noodle Mama - A Bowl of Soul

Last year was a great year for me and J. We traveled to Asia, Central America, Canada and Europe. We photographed some beautiful weddings and contributed some work to notable food and travel publications. I re-ignited my love for cooking because of a butcher shop owned by a husband and wife. We earned our scuba diving certification. I moved on from a painful layoff and discovered the joys of being a freelancer. Jeni left her hell-hole school and found her love for teaching at another institution. But most importantly, we started some friendships with people we would otherwise never meet, simply through the writing of food. I could write a whole posting, and I will one day, on the important people in our lives that continue to inspire us to write our blogs. But for this posting, I'm introducing you to a gentleman known as JD. Some of you may know him through his Twitter handle as Tricerapops – yes, he is a proud father of three adorable triplet girls. Completely decked out in Hello Kitty mafia gear. And he enjoys ranting about football and wine, wine and more wine.

Knowing how much J and I love noodles, we received an email from Tricerapops one day, inviting us to come over to his mom's house for some Vietnamese soup noodles. We didn't know him really nor have we met him in person and due to some conflicting schedules, we ended up postponing. But he continued to send us emails over a few months and finally one day, I gave him a call.

Me: "So your mom makes Vietnamese soup noodles?"
JD: "Yeah, she does it every few months and just opens up her house to anyone."
Me: "Anyone?"
JD: "Yeah, she's been doing this for a long time?"
Me: "For no charge?"
JD: "None. This is what she enjoys doing. And today she has pho."
Me: "We're in there like swimwear."

So on a summer Saturday, J and I headed out to Echo Park to finally meet Tricerapops and eat some soup noodles. Not knowing what his mom likes, we stopped at a Vietnamese bakery and grabbed whatever looked tasty as a pre-thank you. I thought about durian since it's basically a Vietnamese narcotic, but my car would reek. We showed up to the house and we were greeted by JD. From his comments on past postings, we had a pretty good idea of his personality and character and, at that moment, it all came together. Jeni and I knew he was a good guy. Course he is. Who else would invite complete strangers to eat soup noodles at his own mom's place?

For me, there are two categories of pho. The first being the pho most of us will have – which is in a restaurant. We all have our favorite places and pretty much have a set drill on the customization of the perfect bowl of pho. The second being the pho I actually cherish the most – in a kitchen cooked by the hands of a Vietnamese woman. The pho will never taste the same from these categories as expected. At the commercial level, I've seen some kitchens with at least a dozen 3' x 2' stock pots that can serve a good 250-300 bowls. When you're boiling hundreds of pounds of beef bones for 8-10 hours overnight, you're extracting a deeper flavor unachievable at home. I've made pho before a few times and it is a long and arduous process that can still cost around $50-60 for a mere 6-8 bowls. Cough up the $5 elsewhere – it's not worth it if you're going for restaurant quality. But more importantly, the commercial pho will never be as "good" as the home-cooked pho because it misses the one ingredient that varies in every household: a mother's soul.

Growing up, my mom would make soups for us. The most popular being a borscht. Go to any Hong Kong-style cafe and you're likely to be served a watery, tepid version of the Eastern European staple favorite. But my mom added oxtail to it and it was homey. We of course ate it so often it was a staple. But I had a childhood friend that would ask for it every time he came over to our house. My mom never thought twice about making it. I then realized that he had also grown up with no father nor mother – raised only by his old grandma. He saw my mom as his. The last time I talked to him was in high school nearly 15 years ago and he asked if he could have a bowl of my mom's oxtail soup. He left for the Marines and I never heard from him again.

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From the doorway, I could see JD's mom in the background peacefully gliding across the kitchen with her own "moves". Every cook has his "moves". Mine happens to involve crashing, bumping and possible injuries if you get too close to the stove and cutting board. And JD was right about this being a dining room turned cafeteria. The table had settings for eight, wine glasses that commemorated JD's numerous wine tastings and a mound of fresh bean sprouts and herbs. And of course, the usual suspects: Sriracha, hoisin sauce and chili sauce. This was basically a pho restaurant without the restaurant. No bean sprouts garnishing the floor, balled-up napkins or bad Karaoke videos blaring in the background. Which I actually like.

We greeted JD's mom and within a few seconds she did what most Asian mothers do - politely cut out the chit chatting, tell you to sit down and get ready to eat. JD poured us some wine. I looked over at Jeni and whispered to my wife: "J, she's the Noodle Mama!"

Indeed she is. Noodle Mama is Mrs. Dang and she grew up in Saigon cooking soup noodles for family and friends whenever she could. Her mother came from Hanoi and handed down the pho legacy. When she moved to Echo Park with her family, she continued to do her thing. On any given weekend, you would find friends, family, family friends, co-workers and even neighbors. At one point, she had be-friended a few people from the local Dream Center, which houses up to 500 people in need of rehabilitation, counseling and protection from the mean streets. JD told me she once blocked out a whole Saturday for his co-workers and had them make reservations anywhere from 9 am - 6 pm. Ha! I asked her if she wanted me to buy her one of those $150 neon pho signs to place in her window, in which she declined with a laugh. I actually thought about buying one to put in my front window just to see how many people would knock on my door. Jeni killed that dream pretty quickly.

I loved everything about the way Noodle Mama ran her "shop". She had her cilantro and onions chopped up nicely and stored in one of those Asian cookie buckets.

A take-out box filled with some beef meatballs (bo vien). One of my fave pho toppings.

A container of sliced beef brisket and shank (nam and chin) she made from hours of boiling – my go-to pho toppings.

I believe she had two large pots of beef broth going, enough to serve a good 18-24 bowls. Look at the color of the broth from nicely roasted bones and yellow onions.

Versus using a pot of hot water, she dipped the noodles in a separate pot of beef broth for that extra shot of beefiness.

And the final touch, a large scoop of soulful broth. I loved how she used a clear Pyrex microwave bowl. Made me feel like I was at the underground viewing level of Sea World, face and hands pressed tightly against the window for a closer look. You could see everything happening in the bowl. Jeni, look at the piece of rare beef being cooked – awesome!

Then she started to compile a bowl in this huge mixing bowl. I looked at the dining table. Okay, JD, JD's dad, JD's brother and sister all have one. Jeni has one. Except for me.

Me: "Mrs. Dang, that's not for me is it?"
Noodle Mama: "Yes! You eat!"
Me: "JD, she's kidding me right?"
JD: "Naw bro, that's all you. It's your first time here. Welcome to our house."

All of a sudden, I'm taken back to a posting I had written on the ridiculous pho challenge up in San Francisco, by a restaurant called Pho Garden. Read if you dare as I get nauseous just looking at the photos. I could wash my face in this mixing bowl if I wanted to. I sat down and Noodle Mama put the finishing touches and carefully walked the bowl over. She set it down and everyone laughed.

And how was it? Very tasty and homey, exactly the way I imagined it to be. There was no skimping going on as some pho restaurants will do. If you wanted more meat, you knew you could very well help yourself to it. All the fixings were there at your disposal. You know the food is good when everyone around you is busy eating and not saying a word. I had barely dented my noodles when Noodle Mama, as any mother would say, reminded me that I had to eat a second bowl. Jesus. This may be the place I lay to rest. In gluttonous happiness.

I've been to Noodle Mama's three times and have tried her pho and JD's favorite, bun rieu. She also makes bun bo hue, hu tieu and according to JD, a mean bowl of banh canh. Unfortunately, J and I may be seeing Noodle Mama less now that she is moving elsewhere and closing down her Echo Park "shop". Thank you to JD and Noodle Mama for the warm hospitality, noodles and friendship. It means a lot to us. It's my turn next to offer you a bowl of Chinese beef noodle soup.

Question: What is that one dish that you can't refuse when offered by your mom, aunt or grandma?

Eat Drink Style Saigon, Vietnam - Bun Bo Hue, an Afternoon with Nguyen Thi Thanh the Lunch Lady

A few hours earlier, Jeni and I were able to sample one of Bourdain's first pit stops in his No Reservations: Vietnam episode – a Vietnamese crepe-like snack called banh xeo that was both fun to eat and somewhat tasty. We got there the hard way and saw first hand how hectic Saigon street traffic was from the perspective of a cyclo transport. No thanks, we were done with that tourist trap. At our guest house, we were able to rent a scooter for only $7 the whole day, which was killer cheap. Jeni didn't like the idea of it, nor would the mother-in-law, but hey, you only live once.

We pulled out our little food itinerary and talked about our next destination. There was just too much to eat but since we were on the Bourdain tip, we might as well have paid a visit to the lunch lady he also visited on the episode. This stall was a bit out off the radar but it only meant more good times on the scooter. Thanks to Cathy's many nice postings on her blog, Gastronomy, we were able to find our lunch lady with ease. It was time to meet Mrs. Thanh Thi Nguyen.

As we were on our way, I prayed to god that Nguyen Thanh Thi would make her bun bo hue. Bun bo hue, is a Central-region soup noodle dish that includes beef slices, pork sausage, fixings in an aromatic lemongrass and chili-oil broth. This is simply my favorite Vietnamese soup noodle dish. When I saw it on the Bourdain episode, I stood up, pointed at the screen and was like, "Goddamn! That looks good". With food flying out of my mouth. To fill the void, I think we got some bun bo hue that same weekend.

Go down a main street, turn left on to a smaller street and go down an alley - the instructions said. We were finally in the vicinity. I slowed down and started to look around what was basically a large courtyard with surrounding buildings. I flared my nostrils wide to detect the smell of sweet lemongrass. To my surprise, there wasn't just one food stall or restaurant, but more like 5-6 others. All with the same set up - a makeshift tent, small blue tables and small red stools. Men sat around on their scooters smoking and drinking. We scanned the courtyard from left to right and it didn't take us long to realize which one Nguyen Thanh Thi ran because out of the 5-6 stalls, there was one stall with a good 15+ customers. I took off my space-ship like helmet, removed my exhaust mask and ducked my head to look around. And there she was, as in the episode, wearing the traditional straw hat and working the control tower. We parked the scooter and she immediately greeted us with a warm smile.

Where's the Lunch Lady? Find her now!

I walked by her 'kitchen' and checked out the broth. YES! It was bun bo hue. I remembered sitting down on that little stool and just grabbing a chunk of towels to wipe my sweat. One of the ladies came over with a bottle of water and I guzzled that thing down. It was super hot and here we were about to eat some soup noodles. I looked over at Nguyen Thanh Thi and she was busting her chops over there, serving up noodles next to a scalding hot cauldron of bun bo hue broth. I know this is gross, but I wouldn't be surprised if her secret is some accidental salt if you know what I mean haha. Sick.

The color of her broth was a fiery red, a sign of dense chili sauce and probably annatto seeds. The chocolate-like cubes you see are anything but chocolate. Andrew Zimmern would probably spend two whole episodes trying to eat this congealed, pork-blood delicacy. The Vietnamese call it huyet, and its used in pretty much used by every Asian ethnic group including the Chinese, Korean and Thais. It's not for everyone but I like it for the texture. There's not much taste to it.

Also in the cauldron were Vietnamese pork sausage patties called cha. I wish places like Wurstkuche would serve this because I'd for sure order it grilled with a bun. This is basically a beige-colored, Vietnamese version of spam that tastes good with virtually everything. Even pigs like it.

Once Nguyen Thi Thanh adds the hot noodles and toppings in the bowl, her "sous chef" takes over by adding the fragrant, red-colored broth and adding a few pieces of "pig chocolate" and Vietnamese "spam". She walked over to our little table and served us the piping hot bowls. Is it me, or do Asian servers have heat-proof hands made out of silicon? And it's not even like they're traveling a short distance, sometimes they are walking at least 50 paces to bring you your food. Most people couldn't even carry a hot bowl for more than 2 paces!

Foreplay was over. It was business time. I had waited for this moment for a long time. To eat one of my favorite soup noodle dishes, in the country of origin, on little red stools, under heat and humidity, with my wife. I took a sip and tasted the soup, which was really nice. I've tasted a lot of bun bo hue, and this would be on the strong flavoring end that some people either like or dislike. There was a good amount of spice but a few slivers of the orange and yellow chilies could only make it better. The beef was tough and wasn't what I expected. She might have pulled out the beef shank an hour too early. But I think the best part was the "Vietnamese spam", cha. That log of goodness took up a good amount of surface area in the bowl and it was just done right – with large bits of black and white peppercorns - just how I like it. Overall, the bowl was very good and for those that may never travel to Vietnam to eat this, you can definitely find a decent bowl in Little Saigon but you won't get that Saigon experience. I still find homemade version of bun bo hue more comforting then any restaurants.

From the scooter ride to finally eating a Bourdain-approved noodle stall run by a sweet lady, it was one awesome experience. Nguyen Thi Thanh is one of thousands of food stalls in Vietnam and in case you happen to visit on her day off, trust me when I say that you will never run out of food options. Thanks to the Gastronomer for a great find and thanks for reading.

Nguyen Thi Thanh Lunch Lady
23 Hoang Sa (Down the alley on the right side)
Cross Street: Nguyen Thi Minh Khai
District Binh Thanh
Everyday from 11 am - 2 pm

Saigon, Vietnam - Hello Saigon, Nice to Meet You and Eat You
Saigon, Vietnam - Banh Xeo 46A, a Taste of Vietnamese Crepes

Eat Drink Style Saigon, Vietnam - Hello Saigon, Nice to Finally Meet You and Eat You

Since the first day I was with Jeni, I told her that I wanted to see Vietnam. I had a lot of Vietnamese friends in college and they had introduced me to the Vietnamese culture in Orange County, California. It was one food I enjoyed eating and wanted to know more about it. Both the cities of Westminster and Garden Grove are better known to outsiders as Little Saigon, the largest Vietnamese enclave in California. To Vietnamese immigrants, it was a satellite home with many of the attributes of their country, completely intact. To the group I had met in college, Little Saigon meant occasional visitations to tailor shops to make my own slacks, late nights dining at the old Spire's diner, weekend loiterings at the Asian Garden Mall (Phuoc Loc Tho), karaoke lounges, Vietnamese electronic clubs and of course, a TON of good eating.

In 2007, we had an amazing trip to Yangshuo, China. She was meeting me in Hong Kong via Vietnam, and from there we would take off to Southern China. I was actually more interested in hearing about her trip to Vietnam than introducing her to my motherland of Hong Kong. She promised me that we would go together one day to experience half of her heritage.

It was almost October and we still had not planned our Christmas holiday trip. We had just visited Brazil, Argentina and Uruguay, so we had to stay off the South America track for a little while. If you haven't noticed, our budget has only allowed us to do Central/South America and Asia. We're not at the point where we can get a butt-kicking in places like London, where a burger will cost you nearly $20. $20 in our choice countries goes a long way. So we looked to Asia again. We had the idea of visiting each of our motherlands. She, being Vietnamese and Japanese and me being Chinese and Laotian, we would go for this. I would get to see Vietnam and she and I would see Laos (my father's country) for the first time. We've both been to Hong Kong together and Japan separately, so those were somewhat checked off the list.

A few days before Christmas, we stood at Tom Bradley International wielding our plump backpacks. We said goodbye to her mom and walked into the terminal with a glow on our faces. It was our third Christmas of traveling and time away from Los Angeles – what a feeling that is.

12 hours later, we took a pit stop in Taipei and we found ourselves standing...

in the Hello Kitty Lounge of the Tao Yuan International airport. What sicko decided to build something like this? Pink chairs, shiny murals and checkered tiles. Look what they did to one of the EVA Air planes! If you ask me, it's cute-overload terrorism. Didn't they know that it was narcotics to Jeni and every Asian girl in the world. And that every one of those doped-up girls would make their brothers, fathers, boyfriends and husbands take photos of them. There I stood, taking photos of my adult-wife in front of murals and waiting for her to shop for things she didn't need in the Hello Kitty store. But I didn't care really, because in a few hours, I was about to have an authentic bowl of pho. I immediately forgot where I was and smiled. I must have looked like a still-living-with-parents pedophile, standing there in that Hello Kitty Lounge. The day will come when Hello Kitty becomes an evil dictator, you'll see.

We were back on the plane in a few hours. You know that interactive map channel in planes? I checked it periodically to see how our little white airplane was doing. I love how the cartoon representation makes you forget that you're flying at 500+ mph. 35,000 feet in the air. Over deep oceans. I watched it pass Korea, Japan, Hong Kong... and finally approach Ho Chi Minh City, formerly known as Saigon. We finally landed and I expected the airline attendant to get on the speaker: "Hello, we are now descending into Ho Chi Minh City. To prepare you for the delectable foods of Vietnam, we've begun to pump fish sauce and pho broth into the vents to whet your appetite. Enjoy your time here and don't drink tap water. Thanks for flying with us."

Jeni looked at me and just shook her head. She knew what I was thinking about.
"Hey! Hold on okay? Be patient." I was ready. To eat.

We picked up our backpacks at the carousel and found a taxi driver. Of all the times I've driven or been in other countries, I was not prepared for the type of traffic Ho Chi Minh City is known for. There was traffic EVERYWHERE. Scooters, motorbikes and trucks came from all directions, even towards us, like the city was one big beehive. Some motorists were so close to the vehicle I could have reached out and given them a high-five. And at times, there were people crossing through this madness with caution, yet they seemed relaxed. Jeni looked at me and laughed, "Welcome to Saigon." I sat back in my seat to give my eyes a break from this visual overload and just soaked it all in.

After a few minutes, it just seemed to make sense to me. And I couldn't help but laugh to myself. To any foreigner, this was the end of their life. To Vietnamese, this was the theory of yin and yang in action. It was the norm. Saigon has made me appreciate the beauty of LANES. If the game developers of Gran Turismo run out of ideas for their next game, I've got a suggestion. Racing on a track against other people is easy, but what about adding the obstacle of dodging people, animals and vehicles from all directions. Think of it as an updated version of Frogger.

Here's some footage of us zipping through Saigon. Jeni and I ended up renting a scooter anyway because it was the best way to get around and really experience the city. Plus, we didn't have to deal with shady taxi drivers and cyclo drivers that base their rates on your country of origin. I've heard too many stories of people being locked in a car until they paid the driver's amount. Most people would avoid all problems and just give in. Riding around in Saigon was seriously like driving in a video game. Motorists, vehicles and pedestrians came from all over but there was constant visual contact which made everything work. Like ants in a colony, there was a telepathic understanding. If you wanted your way, you were aggressive about it and honked your horn. It was actually more stressful being in a car because you had to give way to scooters. You didn't have to stop for pedestrians but you swerved slightly to the side of them to let them walk. We had an awesome time. After cruising around, we just found something simple to eat and call it a day. Because tomorrow would be a more focused day of eating. I fell asleep shortly after midnight with an English Premier League game on.

The next day I woke up at around 5:45 am. Not to the sound of my alarm or iPhone, but a LOUD rooster. I smiled and thought to myself, "Only in Asia!" I took a look outside of the guesthouse window and spotted the rooster that signaled the beginning of some good eating. He paced back and forth on a small balcony like a military soldier on patrol duty. All around me, I could hear the never-ending cacophony of street life. People chattering and scooters honking. I showered, got dressed and gave the wife a kiss. Without asking me where I was going, she said, "have fun." Of course, she knows. She's my wife.

At 6 am, life was happening here in Saigon. District 1 of Saigon to be exact. We stayed in an area called Pham Ngu Lao, an area where most backpackers stay. The whole street of Bui Vien, is lined with backpacker-friendly streets. Guesthouses, bars, laundromats, stores selling photocopied collections of Lonely Planet books and non-Vietnamese food. There were food stalls already serving up breakfast to locals. There were groups of men drinking tea and smoking cigarettes. Little children on their way to school. Other clueless foreigners walking around. Honking scooters. Dogs. Cats. Chickens. All minding their own business.

I saw this wedding car right outside the guesthouse. I looked behind to watch groom and his groomsmen carrying a large roasted pig in front of a small complex. They laughed as they beckoned their way into the bride's home with their crispy dowry. I've seen this done at family gatherings but this was happening at 6 am on a busy street on a Wednesday. It was beautiful.

Vietnamese Beef Noodle Soup (Pho Bo)
I walked no more than three blocks before I found my first victim. I had my first bowl of pho in 1987 and 23 years later, I was going to have my first bowl in the country of Vietnam. I hoped it would be as special as eating a real bowl of wontons in Hong Kong. When we were heading to our guesthouse from the airport, I stared at every business that had the word pho in it. From a dictionary, the word pho, with the correct accent marks also means things like "to escort/assist", "a deputy", "to show off" or "snowy". None of these words matter to me. Like any street with heavy competition, the employees at this corner pho restaurant waved me in with their hand gestures and stuck a menu to my chest. It was 6 am and way too early to go running around the city for a convincing bowl of pho. All the food I saw on the street looked convincing.

I was directed by the owner to a stool right in front of the "kitchen". The "kitchen" consisted of a four-wheeled, metal table with a glass display case and shelving. There was also a large steamy pot in the middle of the table for cooking noodles, a chopping board and a folded counter top enough for four patrons to digest their meal. All along the display case were the assorted goodies from the cow you could choose from. At this particular pho stall, they only offered rare beef, brisket, tendon and beef balls. Behind the cook, was the soul of the restaurant: a huge cauldron of pho broth.

The owner came by with a plate of bean sprouts and thinly sliced orange/yellow chilies that were quite fiery - not jalapenos. For condiments, there were two small tin jars with the orange chili sauce we know as Sriracha and brown hoisin sauce. Both of them tasted different than I expected. The "Sriracha" had a sweetness to it and the hoisin was much lighter in strength. I watched the cook as he prepared the bowl of noodles in under one minute. I added a few slices of the chilies and black pepper and first dipped my feet in the water. The broth was very light in color and strong in spices. It was very good and much different than any bowl of pho I had back at home. It was very light and had a homeyness to it that made me finish all the soup - I enjoyed it. I took a taste of the brisket which was excellent, due to low & slow cooking and the usage of free-range cows we pay more money for here in the U.S. This wasn't the best bowl of pho I've eaten but I wouldn't think twice about eating here again at 6 am with locals on a crowded street. It was humbling. Especially when the bowl only cost me $1.25.

Vietnamese Style Sandwich (Banh Mi)
In Los Angeles, Latino street vendors have their taco tables and shopping carts loaded with Gatorade/Igloo coolers. Here in Vietnam, they've got a luxurious table with glass display case and wheels. This is basically your Subway on wheels - minus Jared. Almost all vendors of banh mi had this set up. You've got your bread, loaves of Vietnamese meatloaf (cha), roasted pork, cheese, dried pork sung, huge block of liver paté and condiments. Underneath, you've got cabinets for storage and a portable gas stove to fry up some eggs for that special banh mi with fried egg. I watched the banh mi lady preparing a dac biet sandwich (literally means special, "the works"). She first smacked on margarine, mayonnaise and a heavy serving of pate. Next she laid out two pieces of the roast pork (i think it was pork butt, rolled up, tied with twine and then roasted) and two pieces of the Vietnamese meatloaf (cha lua). Then the pickled veggies and cilantro were added, followed by a nice dosage of Vietnamese soy sauce (aka Maggi Sauce) and chili sauce. This foot-long banh mi set you back $0.75. Some vendors had a coal oven that they warmed the bread in. It tastes so much better when toasted. Jesus.

It was now my turn to order and I knew this because the lady gave me a blank look with her hands out. With no knowledge of the Vietnamese language, I employed the point-and-order technique which always works. I ordered the dac biet minus the cheese and chili sauce. But with a fried egg (trung chien), because life is always better with a fried egg! She knelt down with a grunt, opened up the cabinet drawers and flipped on her portable stove. She scrambled the egg, added some margarine and cooked up my eggs rare and juicy. I stopped her while she bagged it, and she gave me a puzzled look. No point in wasting plastic because that banh mi was going to have the lifespan of no more than 5 minutes. I paid her and she and her baby daughter watched as I devoured it. I gave her a thumbs up and she responded with no facial expression. And we both lived happily ever after.

I saw this lady for the next few days and dubbed her the "Gangster Porkchop Lady" (thit nuong gangster). She always wore that hat, protective glasses and a mask - ready to do some surgery on me. All you needed was some Snoop playing in the background. With the mask I could never tell if she was smiling. She more or less looked like she was dogging me. Probably saying stuff like, "if you don't fucking buy a pork chop, i'm going to kill you." JK, she was really nice. We are now in the same gang and have each other's back.

Vietnamese Beef Stew with Rice Noodles (Hu Tieu Bo Kho)
If you're into food like I am, you try your best to remember the names of each culture's food, as well as know its pronunciation. I learned how to read the phonetic Korean alphabet JUST so I could order food off their menu. With Vietnamese, it's pretty much a romance language with squiggly accent marks. So when I stood in front of this stall like a stranger walking into the Cheers bar, the cooks and patrons all turned around to stare at me. For about three seconds, there was complete silence as people stopped eating. From where I stood, I could see something orange in the soup pot. It smelled like beef, tomatoes and carrots and could only mean one thing. As soon as I said the words "bo kho?" came out of my mouth, everyone smiled and welcomed me. I got the go ahead to join the pack.

I sat next to an older woman who was hunched over her bowl of Vietnamese beef stew. She smiled at my cluelessness and probably wondered if I knew what the hell I was doing. If you haven't had this dish, you'll usually see it served in a thicker form with some toasted French bread in Vietnamese restaurants. This is a take on your basic French stew cooked with red wine, but in my opinion, even better. The Vietnamese version omits red wine, and uses fish sauce and a crap load of star anise. I was handed my bowl and the woman next to me (pictured above) immediately pointed to the condiments I had to add in. Some fresh chilies, a scoop of hot chili sauce, some herbs and lastly, a hard squeeze on a lime wedge. I have to say, this was even more appealing to me than the pho I had up the street earlier. The broth was very light in tomato flavor and the beef was done just right. The noodles were fresh and silky and went really well with the fresh herbs. This cost me $1. I drank all the soup and thanked the older woman for helping me eat this the right way.

Vietnamese Rice Sheets (Banh Uot)
This is a favorite of mine. I first had this at the Asian Garden Mall (Phuoc Loc Tho) in Westminster when I was 12 years old. To this day, I still go back to the same exact vendor for this dish called banh uot. It's probably not the best, but it's nostalgic. Thin, slightly translucent rice sheets are cut into large segments and served with generous slices of Vietnamese meatloaf (cha lua), a deep-fried cake with mung beans (banh cong), herbs and bean sprouts. All doused with the all-mighty sweet and sour, fish sauce dip, nuoc cham. I call this a happy meal.

I never get tired of this dish for its simplicity and lightness. You'll eat it and wonder where it disappeared to. Behind where I was sitting, there were about 4-5 motorists waiting on the side for their "drive-thru" order. The owner wrapped up everything in one plastic bag and tied it up with a rubber band. How fun it must be to eat this straight out of the bag. This was a choice stop for locals and I could see why – it was delicious. The rice sheets were the thinnest I've seen, the meatloaf was great and the fish sauce was tasty enough to swim in. J was sleeping at the time I was eating this and I quickly ran back to get here to try this. She and I used to pick up fresh banh uot sheets at the Thai Son store in Little Saigon, and I knew she would love this. We came back an hour later and the carnival had disappeared, vanished into oblivion.

A few weeks later at an airport in Hanoi, I saw this airport sign letting us know what we could NOT bring back. And to my surprise, I find the lovely Vietnamese meatloaf on the roster. It was too funny. Was it a narcotic? I wouldn't be surprised for its addictive taste.

You don't know this, but all the places I ate at this morning were all within 2-3 blocks of each other. As I learned, and you will too, good food is not hard to find in Saigon. Not at all. I told Jeni about the places I ate at and she knew I was very happy. I was very impressed with the food and quality here and loved that I could turn the corner and find a local gem. This was going to be one memorable tasting for us. And So far, Saigon has been good to me.

Thanks for reading. Bourdain's visit with the lunch lady, Vietnamese crepes and a Vietnamese restaurant with a great concept... up next.