(In 2019, with both girls out of college, we embarked on what we hoped would be a family tradition — a trip abroad for every birthday in the family. We were able to make a total of five trips before COVID hit. The first of those five trips was to Ho Chi Minh City — I still prefer to call it Saigon though — with my daughter, Alex. This was the first meal we had there.)
We arrived in Saigon too early to check in to the serviced apartment that I booked months earlier. The housekeeper advised us to have a meal first while she got our room ready. We left our luggage with her and started exploring the nearby streets.
We walked around for a bit and spotted a place where cold drinks were prominently displayed in a refrigerator with a glass door. Even at 9.00 a.m., it was sweltering. As we were getting ready to order our drinks, a delicious aroma filled our noses.
Between the refrigerator and our seats was a stall that sold noodle soup. Oh, pho, I told Alex. But this was no pho. In fact, it looked and smelled nothing like pho.
The broth was a milky yellow orange that smelled of coconut milk and lemongrass. I was intrigued. I asked Alex if she wanted to try it, she said yes, so I ordered a bowl.
Chicken chopped through the bone, noodles, cubes of blood (chicken’s, I presumed), sweet potato and Thai basil joined that milky yellow orange soup in the bowl.
I tasted the broth and was blown away. Despite the addition of coconut milk, the broth felt light in my mouth. I asked for an extra bowl and gave Alex a portion. When she tried it, she was equally delighted.
But it seemed we were not getting the total experience. The nice lady who prepared the soup came over, showed us how to squeeze lime juice into a condiment saucer and stir in some of the spice mix from the container beside the lime wedges. She instructed us, with just hand motions because she spoke no English and we spoke no Vietnamese, to drizzle a little of the mixture into the bowl of noodle soup.
We did as she said, dug into the bowl once more and our initial amazement was doubled, if not tripled. The tartness of the lime juice blended with the natural sweetness of the coconut milk and the effect was out of this world. And whatever was in the spice mix gave the noodle soup an extra kick too. I asked later what was in it, another lady whipped out her phone and, via Google Translate, we learned that it was a blend of chilies and salt.
We could not believe our luck. Our first meal in Saigon went beyond our expectations. I took out my camera, asked if I could take photos, and the owner of the food stall graciously obliged.
Then, I stepped into the street and took a photo of the stall. I don’t know the exact address but I am sure that it is on Nguyen Thai Binh Street (District 1) somewhere within the two blocks between Calmette and Nam Ky Khoi Nghia.
We spent over a week in Saigon, we had noodle soups in countless other establishments, but nothing ever held a candle to that bowl of bún cà-ri. I know it’s been years, and a lot has happened since, but I do hope that the bún cà-ri stall will still be there when we go back.
