breakfasts of a champion

Phet was supposed to go to Vietnam this week, but at the last minute the trip has been cancelled. I'm terrifically upset. I had placed my order for 3 banh chung, the incredibly fantastic sticky rice bundles stuffed full of scrumptious pork and yellow beans that are best around new year's time. Which is now. In lieu of actually getting to eat the tastiest of the tasty, I thought I'd present a review of my Best Breakfasts Ever in honour of the banh chung.

Let's start with the banh chung, shall we?

BANH CHUNG

Banh chung is available year-round in Hanoi, but is extra specially prepared at Tet, when practically every family cooks their own according to their particular recipe. To make banh chung, you have to soak sticky rice overnight. The next day, you carefully arrange bamboo leaves cross-wise and counter-crosswise in a complex pattern. You put some sticky rice on top, and then place fatty pork and yellow beans in the centre of the rice. You top this off with more rice, and then pack the banh chung tightly in a square shape. It must be tied precisely with bamboo cords and as far as I can recall you're not supposed to knot the cords; they must be twisted under carefully for good luck. Then, you boil the sticky rice packets (about 8" square and 3-4" high) for ten to twelve hours in a communal cooking pot.

Now, I have to say that plain old just-boiled banh chung is no great taste sensation as far as I'm concerned. It's usually served at room temperature, so the pork fat is gelatinous and the beans are a little chalky. The best thing about boiled banh chung is the pickled onions it's served with. I went through almost a year in Vietnam thinking that banh chung was for chumps. But that all changed after I spent Tet with my colleague Mrs. Mai's family. She had invited us up to her family's place outside Hanoi for a few days, and was incredibly generous and hospitable - she took us to see all her friends and relatives and put us up in a guesthouse very kindly. The day after we'd arrived she and her husband picked us up for breakfast and took us to her parents' place. There, she got out a frying pan, sliced up some left over banh chung and proceeded to make one of the most delicious things I have ever eaten. Fried banh chung. Much like the difference between steamed fish and a deep-fried fish, or a boiled potato and a french fry, the difference hot oil made to the banh chung was extreme. When Mrs. Mai served the banh chung, it was piping hot. The exterior of the sticky rice was lightly crispy and chewy, while the central rice was creamy and smooth. The pork had all browned up and the fat had added a wonderful flavour to everything. The beans had an outer layer of crispy perfection and were just the right texture to offset the pork. Of course, as with any fried starch 'n meat combo, some saltiness was required, which we got by dipping each bite of our banh chung into soy sauce. Oh man, was that ever good. Happy lunar new year!

KHAO JEE

In Laos, my usual breakfast was a Vietnamese-style crispy roll stuffed with gio (that great Vietnamese 'baloney' that is actually nothing like white people baloney, but is instead beige, smooth, and super tasty). In essence the bun was a cousin of the buns you can buy in Toronto, but it was just that little bit different. The buns in Vientiane were a tad bigger and softer, and the seller would offer me sticky-sweet hot chilli sauce if I wanted it. On top of the gio, she'd add a handful of coriander and sliced carrots, and then best of all she'd douse the bun with soy sauce before closing it up, tucking it into a plastic bag, and handing it to me - for the princely sum of about 20 cents. I'd carry my khao jee to work with me and then eat it at my desk with a big cup of instant coffee, dipping the hard ends of the bun into the coffee when I'd munched up all the innards. Yum.

BUN RIEU CUA

As anyone who stayed with us in Hanoi learned, the best breakfast in Hanoi was available 3 metres from our house on De To Hoang. At 4 am our neighbour would wake up and start crushing miniature crabs to make her famous crab-and-rice-noodles. These teeny crabs would then be boiled up in a tomatoey and herby broth over an outdoor charcoal burner, and then shells would be scooped out. The crab meat would be separated from the broth and piled into a big bowl. Then, our neighbour would set up shop. She'd get her fresh vermicelli (bun) noodles ready in a big basket covered with a banana leaf, she'd set out bowls of fresh green herbs, the napkins, and the toothpicks. By about 6 am she'd have her first customers. To prepare a bowl of super delicious bun rieu cua, she'd first cook the noodles briefly in boiling water, strain them out, and put them in a bowl. A big dollop of crab meat and a spoonful of MSG would go on top, along with some green onions and crispy-fried garlic and shallots. Then, she'd ladle a big steaming scoop of broth on top and voila - the best bowl of noodles in Hanoi.

IDDLI

Phet and I were fans of Malaysian breakfasts from the moment we arrived in KL back in 1995. What could possibly be better, we asked each other, than a repast that consisted of a paper-thinly-flat-rolled roti which was then quintuple folded a la streudle layering, fried until crisp and lightly brown, and served with a side order of curry dipping sauce, and accompanied with a mug of spiced tea sweetened with condensed milk?

Well, the roti cannai remains a favourite, but when we moved to KL a couple of years ago, I discovered that I had another standby to rely on. One that wasn't quite as oily as a roti, and could therefore be eaten daily without concern (if you know me, you know I'm not much of a fat-foods worrier, but I do try not to indulge in fried things daily. Except if it's Tet and I'm around banh trung, of course). So, what was it that turned out to be the roti replacement? Fabulous, fresh iddli.

Iddli are a fairly plain and pleasant steamed cake / dumpling. They're made of ground rice flour and lentil flour which is fermented just a little as a dough, and then the batter is ladled into steamer trays and the iddly are steamed up until they're puffy and pleasantly spongy and nicely dry for a dumpling. Shaped like a portly-in-the-middle pancake, and about 3 1/2 inches in diameter, iddly are best when served nice and warm and straight from the steamer. If they're left for awhile (as they seem to be in Toronto when I've eaten them) they tend to dry out a little and aren't nearly as tasty.

The iddli shop that Phet and Ji and I went to on pretty much a daily basis unless we were in the mood for yellow noodles and won ton, was just a block away from our apartment building in KL. It was a big shop and was always chock full of folks. The cooks and waiters at the shop - all tall, striking Indian fellows - were baby-lovers and would often whisk Ji off to watch the roti man flipping rotis, or the teh tarik man "pulling" the spiced tea by pouring it into cups from a distance of several feet, or else they'd take him round back to the kitchen to see who-knows-what (we were never invited). In the meantime, Phet and I would take the opportunity to stuff ourselves without having to hold our baby. I'd usually get three iddlis, and then we'd be brought the sauces. In my opinion, the key to truly excellent iddlis is in the sauce, and luckily our sauce-makers were true champions. There were always three choices: coriander chutney, coconut chutney, and a rich and creamy tomato sauce. The tomato sauce was my ultimate favourite, although on special occasions I might also get a side order of curry or dal as well. It was also kind of fun, too, beacuse the sauces would change in consistency and flavouring juuuuust slightly every day. One day a bit spicier, the next a little oilier. One day with extra brothiness, the next with a touch more cumin. Mm, mmm. Fresh iddlis and spiced tea. Ideal.

AND LASTLY BUT NOT LEASTLY

Right now I'm on a pretty boring routine of cornflakes with milk and a side of coconut yogurt here in Bangkok. There are great breakfast stalls nearby, but because I have to be at school by 7 am, I prefer to just eat quickly at home. Not too exciting, but all this thinking about breakfasts made me think about Canadian breakfasts, too, of course. And so here are my top favourite Canadian breakfasts without further ado:

1. Two slices of whole wheat toast with peanut butter and home-made jam, with a side of cheese, and a cup of tea. This breakfast was my especial favourite when I our home was inhabited by a jar of Gramma Rita's strawberry jam. I don't know why, but my Mum and Dad's jam just paled in comparison. They tried, they really tried, but no one could ever duplicate Gramma's jam. She somehow always achieved a very clear and light strawberry jam and we simply couldn't replicate it no matter how hard we tried. I still miss it on a daily basis.

2. Dad's freshly baked cornbread with butter and maple syrup.

3. Scottish scones and tea. There used to be a Scottish bakery on Danforth near Greenwood, and they made spectacular scones. The rest of their treats were ok, but the scones were superb. Dad would zip off on Saturday mornings and come back with a brown paper bag stuffed with still-warm scones. The shop always had three kinds, cream, treacle, and wheaty. Perfect with butter and Robertson's rind-y marmalade.

Bon apetit! [On The Road-4-February-2006]