10 TR THE NEW YORK TIMES, SUNDAY, MARCH 21, 2010

By DAVID FARLEY

‘‘YOU like congealed pigs’blood?” my travel com-panion asked, pulling meover to a street cart in HoChi Minh City. Before I

could answer, two bowls of chao, a riceporridge bobbing with slices of porksausage and cubes of coagulated blood,were plopped in our hands.

Pigs’ blood porridge isn’t somethingI’d normally try. I may not have evenwandered over to see what was cookingin the streetside cauldron on wheels.But then again, I wasn’t on this culinarytrek with any ordinary traveler. I waswith Michael Huynh (pronounced“win”), a New York chef and restaura-teur who was taking me on an eatingtour of his native city.

Cooking, you might say, is in Mr.Huynh’s blood. He grew up in the kitch-en at his mother’s restaurant in Ho ChiMinh City, which residents still call Sai-gon. Now 45, Mr. Huynh, who is betterknown by his nickname, Bao, reignsover a mini-empire of Vietnamese res-taurants in New York City. In the lastyear alone, he’s staked a claim as one ofNew York’s most prolific chefs. (Histricks, he says, are that his menus areset at recession-friendly prices and thathe can negotiate a lease in his favor.)

My journey with Mr. Huynh actuallybegan thousands of miles away, at hisnew Lower East Side Vietnamese beergarden, Bia. During my visit — researchfor my trip — I was pleasantly sur-prised to find the frenetic Mr. Huynh atBia. I asked where I should eat while inHo Chi Minh City. “Why don’t I take youto my favorite places myself,” he said. Ithought he was joking, but it turned outhe was headed to his hometown to scoutlocations for a new restaurant (sur-prise, surprise) when I was going to bethere.

Our tour, he told me when I met withhim one more time before the trip,wouldn’t necessarily be hitting thecity’s “it” restaurants. Instead, wewould eat our way through Mr. Huynh’sversion of the city, stopping at theplaces he goes to when in town, histried-and-true spots.

What Ho Chi Minh City, the country’sbiggest metropolis, lacks in aesthetics,it makes up for in chaotic energy and, ofcourse, in its cuisine, both of whichseem to be ubiquitous. Amid an incon-gruent jumble of low-lying buildings, itsnarrow streets and tiny alleys overflowwith no-frills restaurants that open ontothe sidewalk and look as if they coulddouble for someone’s garage. Seeming-ly on every corner are portable cartspowered by a gas burner and an oldwoman who, in many cases, is the ump-teenth generation to stir that very pot.Patrons sit on low-rise stools or plasticchild-size chairs in these makeshift din-ing spots, hunched over bowls of noo-dles.

Mr. Huynh and I were to arrive thesame day, but given his hectic schedule,I wasn’t surprised when he called mejust before I was boarding my flight tosay he was coming the following day.Three days later, he finally turned up.True to his word, he wasted no time in-troducing me to his native city’s cuisine.

After beginning with the pig’s bloodporridge — we paid less than a dollarfor the two of us — we headed for Dis-trict 3, a neighborhood outside the citycenter. Our destination, Com Nieu Sai

Gon, he told me, is beloved by locals andis increasingly on the radar of food-focused tourists. Its former owner, Ma-dame Ngoc, became well-known withtravelers after appearing on AnthonyBourdain’s travel show “No Reserva-tions” in 2005. Madame Ngoc has sincepassed on, but her restaurant continuesto pack in the diners.

Once seated, Mr. Huynh hardlyglanced at the 300 or so items on themenu before spitting out a long orderfor our waiter. Meanwhile, the sound ofshattering pots rang throughout the res-taurant. The reason wasn’t clumsiness.It turned out that the house specialty,rice cooked in a clay pot, is served aftera ritual you aren’t likely to find in NewYork: before serving, waiters break theclay pots and then scrape out the crispypatty of rice that remains.

To ensure there are no lingeringshards of clay, glove-clad waiters tossthe rice patties across the room to eachother before depositing them on diners’tables and sprinkling them with a scal-lion-spiked sauce. (According to Rich-

ard Sterling, a friend who lives in HoChi Minh City and wrote Lonely Plan-et’s “World Food: Vietnam,” this is anancient tradition in Southeast Asia, butone that is rarely performed thesedays.) As the baked rice landed on ourtable, a waiter showed me a scar on histhumb from breaking a pot, a hazard ofthe job.

A few minutes later, a procession ofdishes began arriving: Japanese egg-plant, sautéed with enough garlic totake out a vampire; steamed bloodcockles; caramelized fish hatchlingscooked in a clay pot; and lotus root sal-ad. All were washed down with a bia da,beer with ice, a time-honored southernVietnam tradition.

But Mr. Huynh, I would quickly learn,never settles for just one meal. Everytime we met, whether for breakfast,lunch or dinner, we’d make severalstops, snacking our way down thestreet. Sometimes we’d slurp up a bowlof pho before he’d guide me down al-leyways for one of the many variationson the theme of bun (pronounced“boon”), a vermicelli noodle bowl filledwith pork and veggies.

Then we’d stop at a cart for stickyrice or a pork-crammed banh mi sand-wich and then, finally, sit down on asidewalk stool for a dosa-like shrimp-and-pork-stuffed banh xeo. (Whetherwe were eating street food or at a res-taurant, the meal for two, plus a coupleof beers, rarely exceeded $20.) “Themost authentic food in Saigon is atstreet carts and simple restaurants,” hesaid during one of our multi-stop ex-travaganzas.

One day, while Mr. Huynh had a busi-ness meeting, I stopped into the BlackCat, a restaurant owned by a friend of afriend, Geoffrey Deetz, originally fromthe Bay Area. Over cold bottles of Viet-namese beer, he took my guide’s com-ments a step further: “It’s more aboutstyle than substance at the new trendyrestaurants,” he said, explaining thatmost Vietnamese chefs have yet to suc-

cessfully elevate traditional cuisine. AsVietnam’s robust economy continues togrow and newly built skyscrapers de-vour blocks that once offered no-frillsfood options in the central District 1,finding decent dining options is becom-ing a challenge.

Unless, of course, you’re with Mr.Huynh. The following day, he took me toMinh Duc, in the city center. The restau-rant, which features simple décor andcommunal metal tables, offers yet an-other surprising form of entertainment:the open-to-the-street dining room isacross a busy road from the kitchen, sowhile Mr. Huynh and I munched on afeast of simply prepared dishes, we

watched a steady stream of tray-carry-ing waiters carefully play a real-life ver-sion of the classic arcade game Frogger,struggling to cross the scooter-crammed street. Once it arrived,though, the food was the real star of theshow.

“You can’t eat like this in America,”said Mr. Huynh, scanning the table.“Vietnamese food is similar to Chinese,but the difference is that we cook foodslower,” he said. Case in point: the cara-melized pork belly was so tender it

came apart in chunks when my chop-sticks hit it. The braised catfish wasequally tender — Mr. Huynh instructedme to eat the belly first, which was softand rich and melted when it hit thetongue.

On another night, after our usual im-promptu stops at food carts for stickyrice or a glass of mung bean milk, wetook a taxi out to District 10 to dine atLang Nuong Nam Bo, one of a handfulof restaurants in Ho Chi Minh City thatspecialize in Mekong Delta-style barbe-cue. Diners prepare their own meat onminiature charcoal grills at each table.Crates of beer are left at diners’ feet,along with a bottle opener on the table.

As waiters wandered by, plopping bigchunks of ice in our beer mugs, wesnacked on small embryonic duck eggs.Then the raw meat began arriving: wildboar, then goat breast. Mr. Huynh care-fully flipped the meat on the grill untilhe determined it was done. Both weresmoky and tender. Finally, a surprise:Mekong rat, a delicacy in the south. Mr.Huynh said he wouldn’t eat it, but re-fused to say why, leaving the flattened,just-grilled rat on a plate staring at me. Igave it a go. There wasn’t much meat,but it was edible: chewy, dark and well-charred.

Several beers and small mammalslater, our clothes reeking of smokedmeat, we paid the bill and jumped in acab, directing the driver back to District1. Tomorrow would be a new day, and Ihad a feeling that meant another mara-thon, eating our way through the city’schaotic food-strewn streets. Æ

C H O I C E T A B L E S

In Vietnam, Cauldrons on Every Corner

PHOTOGRAPHS BY ARANTXA CEDILLO FOR THE NEW YORK TIMES

A waiter selects items from the offerings at Minh Duc, a restaurant in the center of Ho Chi Minh City; the open dining room is across a busy road from the kitchen, forcing servers to dodge traffic.

FROM TOP At Com Nieu SaiGon, rice is cooked in a claypot, which is then brokenopen, leaving a crispy patty.

TOP Red chilies play a prominent role in Vietnamese food. ABOVE Shell-fish on the grill at Lang Nuong Nam Bo, which specializes in barbecue.

A chef’s tour of Ho

Chi Minh City yields

tasty $20 meals.

GETTING THEREThere are no nonstop flights from the

United States to Ho Chi Minh City. A re-cent Web search yielded Cathay Pacific(cathaypacific.com) flights out of Ken-nedy Airport in New York, with achange in Hong Kong, starting at about$1,200, for travel in April.

WHERE TO EATCom Nieu Sai Gon (6C Tu Xuong

Street, District 3, 84-8 3-932-6388). Minh Duc (100 Ton That Tung Street,

District 1; 84-8 3-839-2240;tiemcomminhduc.com/en/default.php).

Lang Nuong Nam Bo (285 Cach MangThang Tam Street, District 10; 84-83-863-2309).

WHERE TO STAYIf you want to follow the Michael

Huynh trail, stay at the Sunflower Hotel(84A Bui Thi Xuan Street; 84-8 3-925-7458; sunflowerhotel.vn), his home-away-from-home when he’s in town.doubles from $40; Wi-Fi, breakfast andcable TV are included.

The new 19-story IntercontinentalAsiana Saigon (39 Le Duan Boulevard,District 1; 84-8 3-520-9999;ichotelsgroup.com/intercontinental/en/gb/locations/hochiminhcity) offers 305rooms and suites, most with city views;doubles from $195.

I F Y O U ’ R E H U N G R Y

PROOF User: aschneider Time: 11:32 - 03-15-2010 Region: SundayAdvance Edition: 1