In the streets of Hanoi, we taste, we smell, we look

At six o’clock in the morning, despite the mist lingering on the Red River, the Dong Xuan market is already buzzing with activity. Sitting on a blue plastic stool, the fruit seller Tiên Thuy makes slurp swallowing his bowl of pho, his face suspended in the vapors of the broth, imperturbable in the face of the cacophony of car horns, the cries of the merchants, the trucks dumping the crates… First encounter with old Hanoi: an electric jungle, steaming pots , multicolored lanterns suspended above soups and sticky rice. And mopeds. All over.

We jump between the scooters, we zigzag between the starving dogs and the stalls overloaded with spices, dried bamboo, areca nuts, jackfruit roots, pink lemons and nuoc-mam (fish sauce). Already the smell of mam tom (fermented shrimp paste) panics the nostrils, while Tiên Thuy finishes his breakfast by swallowing a hatched egg on the verge of hatching. She has just cycled 25 kilometers from the rural suburbs to sell her wares. The day can begin.

A few streets away, old men in pajamas and a few forty-somethings are doing tai-chi on the edge of the pretty Hoan Kiêm Lake (Lake of the Restored Sword), rubbing against the flamboyants, stretching their arms facing the red lacquered bridge of the Rising Sun, and the islet of Jade. The Hanoian maintains a kind of serenity despite the ambient shambles. Here, in the “belly” of the thousand-year-old city, between the old colonial quarter (French quarter), the Museum of the Revolution, the mausoleum of Hô Chi Minh, the Saint-Joseph cathedral and the quarter of 36 streets or corporations, we immerse ourselves in the soul and the effervescence of a feverish-looking city. Everywhere we taste, we smell, we look. Incense smokes on the old balconies, market gardeners dust papayas, mangoes and dragon fruits – in the exhaust fumes.

Everyone meets at lunchtime

From the superb Quan Chuong gate, a remnant of the former imperial capital in the 18^e century, to the merchant district of 36 streets and corporations, founded in XV^e, the population density is such that each shop is nestled in a thimble. But these “36 streets” have long since lost their original specialty. “Medicines” street (Thuôc Bac street) now offers tin tools, “Veils” street (Hang Buôm street) roasted coffee, “Paper” street (Hang Giây street) sweets, and that of the “Fish brine” (Hang Mam street) of funerary stelae. At the mercy of dead ends and backyards, we take refuge from time to time in small temples, sheltered from the noise and the fury, then we sink back into the chaos of Hanoian life and its cuisine of street like no other. A break is essential at Cha Ca La Vong, opened more than a century ago and which offers a single dish at 3 euros: the well that, a grilled fish with turmeric and dill, whose recipe itself dates back one hundred and thirty years, created by the Doan family. And what about the bun riêu cua (crab rice vermicelli soup) from Mrs. Thu’s stall in Tho Xuong Alley, near St. Joseph’s Cathedral?

Another street that neither begins nor ends anywhere: Dông Xuân. Students, workers, employees, traders, everyone meets at lunchtime in the middle of charcoal stoves to eat excellent and inexpensive street food on the go. Two hundred meters long of specialties including the famous pho (rice noodle soup with beef and chicken), the Northern dish, the identity card and the passport for the street and the gargote. But also the Banh Bao (small wheat flour buns stuffed with pork, black mushrooms and quail eggs), bahn tom (shrimp fritters), bahn goi (Fried ravioli), bun oc (vermicelli with snails), bahn cuon (thin pancakes of stuffed rice dough) without forgetting the che, which refer to the desserts including the one made with red beans, tapioca pearls, coconut milk and gelled grapefruit skin. The matrons cook and we enjoy ourselves. The gestures are soft, precise, measured. Everything is speed around, but the cooking is slow and precise.

In the rue des Nattes, we then test a banh ran, a traditional donut, dripping with honey and sugar before going to try a strange speciality, egg coffee. The story goes that in the 1960s, a bartender at the famous Hôtel Métropole, the palace in the city center, allegedly ran out of milk (rationed at the time) to prepare a cappuccino. He would then have improvised with egg yolks and condensed milk. The success was such that he opened the Giang cafe. Even today, his heirs perpetuate the tradition of this recipe which dates back to 1969.

A smell of coriander, lemongrass and cloves

And then also tell the recipes of Mrs. Anh Tuyêt, who receives in her pretty wooden house on Ma Mây street, typical of old Hanoi. On the walls of his restaurant, on the first floor, his dishes are displayed like trophies: gold medal for roast chicken with honey, gold medal for spring roll, gold medal for imperial prawns, gold medal for golden fish with caramel and ginger… Descendant of a family of mandarins, this great lady of Hanoian gastronomy was enthroned “culinary master” by Nguyên Xuân Phuc, the president of Vietnam. “The sophistication of women is reflected in the delicacy of their dishes”, she says today. “I was used to very fine meals, and very demanding in their preparation. The balance must be perfect between texture, color, taste and temperature. Our history is linked to colonialism, wars, complicated political and economic situations. We have learned to survive on healthy, inexpensive ingredients. » Like this kumquat juice she uses instead of vinegar or this flower, hoa dâu biêc, which gives the purple color to sticky rice.

Further south, in front of the Temple of Literature, there is also a smell of coriander, lemongrass and cloves. ” Hot, sticky chicken rice! shouts a street vendor, bending under the weight of her yoke. But the stelae of Confucian scholars monopolize the attention of visitors, indifferent to this face crippled with fatigue, half hidden under a conical hat. Going up towards the West Lake, pilgrims enter the Trân Quôc pagoda, while families ride pedalos on small boats with the heads of swans, like children’s toys. At the end of the afternoon, there is animation. Friends nibble a banh mi (sandwich), accompanied by a bia hoi, a cold draft beer. On the shore, young people wave their smartphones in front of a young girl in a sequined dress offering raffle tickets in front of a giant screen: “Hanoi darling, does she yell. To see you one day is to love you forever! »