Dining Out

Taste the rainbow: Vietnamese che may be as pretty to look at as it is fun to eat, and a near-perfect concoction to boot. Find the nearest storefront and point to the most colourful thing on the menu. It’s that easy. — VNS Photos Aaron Joel Santos

Pop a squat: A vendor dishes up iced che to parched shoppers on Hang Be Street. — VNS Photo Truong Vi

(30-03-2008)

Sweet diversion on Ha Noi’s sidewalks

Aaron Joel Santos took his insatiable sweet tooth on a tour of the capital to sample every variety of its favourite dessert. Four hours later, full to the brim, he returned home with a new appreciation for the inimitable che.

There shouldn’t be anything appetising about a glass of amorphous globs punctuated by colourful squirms and squiggles. Yet Vietnamese che manages to subvert food psychology and bring to the masses a dessert equal parts modern art and simple, sincere goodness.

It’s the perfect blend of earthy pastes and thick beans with sugary fruits and jellies. And at its best it’s a testament to everything exuberant about Vietnamese cuisine, by turns inventive and utilitarian depending on your vendor, and as much about unique clashes of flavour as it is steeped in basic recipes and tradition.

In short, che is Viet Nam’s premiere dessert happening. It’s a glimpse into what life would be like if the gum kids picked from beneath bleachers tasted like sweet rain forest water, or if the slick sea weeds that washed ashore were covered in rainbow-coloured candy shells.

Everything and more

Much of che’s genius lies in its inherent plainness. It doesn’t strive to be exquisite and is comfortable on a creaky stool, carried along in a pink bag or slurped through a cafe’s dented tin spoon. It comes hot, cold, crunchy, chewy and never without a certain charisma. In Viet Nam, che is Everyman’s dessert, by turns universally appealing and able to offer itself up as something one-of-a-kind, worth searching the city’s nooks and crannies for.

And while it would be impossible to assign best-of status to any one che in Ha Noi, a near-perfect introduction to this choice beverage can be found at Quan An Ngon on Phan Boi Chau Street, just southwest of the Old Quarter. Here, the che suong sa hat luu serves as a good starting point; it’s just the right mix of sweet and semi-savoury. It’s brimming with colour and comes with almost everything but the kitchen sink in a tall, ice-filled glass. Hat luu refers to the drink’s crunchy-then-soft mock pomegranate seeds. The menu offers up several other varieties, both hot and cold, so it’s worth bringing friends to sample more than just one.

Another favourite stop (which scores extra points for being just steps away from the renowned Bun Bo Nam Bo) is thach che loc tai, at 63 Hang Dieu Street. This is kind of like the Mel’s Diner of Ha Noi’s che scene, with large neon and pastel menus posted on the walls tempting customers through dozens of different flavour options. Here, the che chuoi, with fresh grilled bananas swimming in warm ambrosial coconut milk and tapioca, finished with a scattering of smashed peanuts, comes highly though not exclusively recommended.

For a different take on things, move south a few shops to find another che vendor sitting in the doorway behind her wares. She happens to have the best che nep cam I’ve yet had the pleasure of tasting. This uncanny beverage, composed of black rice fermented in local spirits and a few large tapioca pearls, then finished off with a dash of coconut milk, easily quashes its more pungent competitors.

Elsewhere in the city, number 8 Hai Ba Trung Street spreads outward with boys and girls all hunched over and huddled around low tables throughout the day. Here the che hoa qua reigns supreme, with a veritable cornucopia of textures and tastes, from crisp watermelon and dragonfruit pieces to thick taro cubes and sticky tapioca pearls, all held together by a liquid that tastes remarkably like strawberries and cream.

Go forth

Of course there are hundreds of places to have che across Ha Noi, and sometimes the best cup or glass comes when you least expect it. Remember, che’s appeal lies not in its lofty stature, but rather in its ability to entice anyone with five minutes to spare. And with this in mind, I offer up a few starting points, some places to find nice, no frills cupfuls whenever you’re in the neighbourhood.

To begin, number 14 Phan Huy Chu Street serves up a variety of great, simple glasses, while 37 H2 Nguyen Cong Tru Street, within the market, spoons sugar-heavy heaps to eat-in or take away. On Hue Street, near and within the fabric market, a number of women stake their claims, as well as on Bach Mai and Le Van Huu streets.

In the end, che remains indicative of everything weird and wonderful about Viet Nam. It’s strange at first but warms on you quickly, and it can even feel a bit slapped together at times, as the vendor ladles near-endless amounts of colourful jellies and viscous liquids into your glass. But then of course when you taste it you realise it was all for a reason. And it’s everywhere. Just walk out your door. There. — VNS