editorial

Vietnam’s third-largest city is second to none when it comes to homegrown cuisine, as a tour of eateries both here and in nearby Hoi An reveals.
Photographs by Liem Tran Quang
<figure id="attachment_135825" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-135825" style="width: 1200px" class="wp-caption aligncenter"><img decoding="async" loading="lazy" class="wp-image-135825 size-full" src="https://staging.destinasian.com/wp-content/uploads/Da-Nang-Food-Story-1.jpg" alt="A banh xeo shrimp pancake filled with pork, bean sprouts, and fresh herbs served at Banh Xeo Ba Duong; lunchtime at the same diner." width="1200" height="893" srcset="https://staging.destinasian.com/wp-content/uploads/Da-Nang-Food-Story-1.jpg 1200w, https://staging.destinasian.com/wp-content/uploads/Da-Nang-Food-Story-1-300x223.jpg 300w, https://staging.destinasian.com/wp-content/uploads/Da-Nang-Food-Story-1-1024x762.jpg 1024w, https://staging.destinasian.com/wp-content/uploads/Da-Nang-Food-Story-1-768x572.jpg 768w" sizes="(max-width: 1200px) 100vw, 1200px" /><figcaption id="caption-attachment-135825" class="wp-caption-text">Left to right: A banh xeo shrimp pancake filled with pork, bean sprouts, and fresh herbs served at Banh Xeo Ba Duong; lunchtime at the same diner.</figcaption></figure>
Vietnam famously enchanted both the author Graham Greene and his protagonist Thomas Fowler in The Quiet American. Four decades later, the contemporary chronicler Anthony Bourdain similarly fell under the country’s spell the first time he visited: “The food, culture, landscape and smell; they’re all inseparable. It just seemed like another planet; a delicious one that sort of sucked me in and never let go.”
He’s not alone. Visitors (myself included) frequently cite food as the principal reason for their journey, and on this trip, I’ve come to eat my way through Da Nang, the country’s third largest city. Located halfway down Vietnam’s long, S-shaped coastline, Da Nang is a big and bustling port town with a bayside setting that gives its palm-lined waterfront an occasional air of Miami, even if it lacks the sights and sophistication of Ho Chi Minh City or Hanoi. In common with those places, however, Da Nang also boasts a fiercely proud and unique culinary tradition, making it one of the most compelling food destinations anywhere in Asia, especially when you add nearby Hoi An into the mix.
My first stop after settling in is Mi Quang Ba Vi—Mrs. Vi’s Noodles—a 40-year-old establishment whose octogenarian owner is something of a local legend. This is explained to me by Viet, a Da Nang native and 28-year-old economics lecturer whose time studying in Melbourne makes him the perfect guide for my Funtastic Da Nang Food Tour. As with almost all small businesses and restaurants in Vietnam, families tend to live above where they work, and Ba Vi is no exception; it feels like you’re eating in someone’s front room. The plastic stools are so low that we’re almost squatting on our haunches, but Viet says this is a good sign. “The lower the stool, the cheaper the food! The cheapest comes sitting on the pavement.”
Ba Vi specializes in what is arguably Da Nang’s favorite and most iconic noodle dish, mi quang. Every family makes it, sometimes every day for every meal, and each has their own recipe. Mi quang is all about the layering of textures and flavors—fresh greens, banana blossom and herbs, rice noodles and shrimp—even before the broth, a slow-boiled stock of pork, beef, fish, and chicken bones, is poured over top. Lime is liberally squeezed for sourness, spring onion and coriander are added for extra zing, and peanuts and broken rice crackers provide a crunch. It’s the epitome of Vietnam’s culinary DNA, namely that food should stimulate all five senses.
Viet introduces me to some other local specialties, including cha bo, a delicious sausage made from ground beef and steamed in banana leaf. Although it’s not the prettiest thing you’ll eat in Vietnam, it’s sweet and subtle and stupidly moreish. Nem chua is fermented raw pork, not half as terrifying as it sounds, with heat from the chili peppers, pungency from the garlic, and sour notes from the curing. And then there’s tre, a ubiquitous street snack of marinated and ground up pig snout, face, ear, and skin. That may sound like the crunchy Filipino favorite sisig, but it’s actually more like jellyfish in its surprisingly chewy, stringy consistency.
<figure id="attachment_135826" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-135826" style="width: 1200px" class="wp-caption aligncenter"><img decoding="async" loading="lazy" class="wp-image-135826 size-full" src="https://staging.destinasian.com/wp-content/uploads/Da-Nang-Food-Story-2.jpg" alt="The headlining noodle dish at Da Nang's Mi Quang Ba Vi; colonial elegance pervades La Maison 1888." width="1200" height="893" srcset="https://staging.destinasian.com/wp-content/uploads/Da-Nang-Food-Story-2.jpg 1200w, https://staging.destinasian.com/wp-content/uploads/Da-Nang-Food-Story-2-300x223.jpg 300w, https://staging.destinasian.com/wp-content/uploads/Da-Nang-Food-Story-2-1024x762.jpg 1024w, https://staging.destinasian.com/wp-content/uploads/Da-Nang-Food-Story-2-768x572.jpg 768w" sizes="(max-width: 1200px) 100vw, 1200px" /><figcaption id="caption-attachment-135826" class="wp-caption-text">Left to right: The headlining noodle dish at Da Nang&#8217;s Mi Quang Ba Vi; colonial elegance pervades La Maison 1888.</figcaption></figure>
Banh xeo is another dish beloved in Da Nang, and to sample one of its finest renditions we walk a couple of minutes down a narrow, nondescript alleyway to Banh Xeo Ba Duong. The xeo in the name (pronounced “say-o”) is culinary onomatopoeia for the sound that the savory pancakes make as they sizzle in pans. Made from corn-flour batter and embedded with shrimp and spring onions, they get their golden-yellow hue from turmeric, but the secret is most definitely in the sauce, one that includes pig liver, peanuts, chili, garlic, and shrimp paste, all ground into a heady mix. Viet gives me a lesson in banh xeo etiquette: you lay the crispy pancake on some rice paper, add in your fresh herbs, slide off one or two skewers of grilled pork, and roll up the whole gorgeous concoction before dunking it—no polite dipping here—into the sauce. One bite brings the five senses into action all at once—the textural interplay and mouthfeel, the aroma, the sights and sounds of the clamorous kitchen, and of course the brilliant harmony of flavors. They are so multilayered that it’s difficult to discern which is providing the most enjoyment.
Arguably the most famous iteration of banh—meaning any food made from flour, usually ground rice flour—is banh mi, a culinary reminder of France’s intrusion into Vietnamese history. At a street-side stall called Ba Lan, just one of seemingly thousands across the city, the baguettes are baked on-site and kept warm in an ancient black mini stove, removed only when it’s time to fill them with a prodigious combination of cheese, meats, pâtés, vegetables, herbs, and sauces. Wrapped in thin white paper, they’re the definitive Vietnamese takeaway.
The contrast in surroundings and cuisine couldn’t be greater just a 20-minute drive away, up over Monkey Mountain to the InterContinental Danang Sun Peninsula Resort, a mouthful in its own right. The breathtaking property hugs the cliffs, its white villas and suites blending seamlessly into the mountainside. Among the resort’s dining options is what many consider the finest international restaurant in Vietnam, La Maison 1888, where Pierre Gagnaire has lately taken the reins from another French culinary legend, Michel Roux Sr.
Here, Gagnaire’s team marries the best of French and local Vietnamese produce in dishes such as sublime poached Brittany oysters with champagne and local banana blossom, the symbiosis of two cuisines and the 65-year-old chef’s philosophy writ large. Though not around during my visit (he’s based in Paris), Gagnaire later tells me in an email that what excites him most about his latest venture is the way Vietnamese cuisine uses herbs and vegetables, like banana blossom. “It’s an elegant cuisine—fragrant, light, and aromatic. We try to translate the essence of this through my own sensibility.” When one of the world’s most renowned chefs feels inspired, it’s no surprise to learn that he’s not the only one.
<figure id="attachment_135827" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-135827" style="width: 1200px" class="wp-caption aligncenter"><img decoding="async" loading="lazy" class="wp-image-135827 size-full" src="https://staging.destinasian.com/wp-content/uploads/Da-Nang-Food-Story-3.jpg" alt="Chef Duc Tran at his riverside Mango Mango restaurant in Hoi An; preparing a banh mi baguette at Ba Lan." width="1200" height="893" srcset="https://staging.destinasian.com/wp-content/uploads/Da-Nang-Food-Story-3.jpg 1200w, https://staging.destinasian.com/wp-content/uploads/Da-Nang-Food-Story-3-300x223.jpg 300w, https://staging.destinasian.com/wp-content/uploads/Da-Nang-Food-Story-3-1024x762.jpg 1024w, https://staging.destinasian.com/wp-content/uploads/Da-Nang-Food-Story-3-768x572.jpg 768w" sizes="(max-width: 1200px) 100vw, 1200px" /><figcaption id="caption-attachment-135827" class="wp-caption-text">Left to right: Chef Duc Tran at his riverside Mango Mango restaurant in Hoi An; preparing a banh mi baguette at Ba Lan.</figcaption></figure>
A short drive south lies the beachside haven of The Nam Hai, a luxurious but understated hideaway of villas 15 minutes up the road from the historic port town of Hoi An, where another international chef is pushing local produce. Indeed, New Zealander Richard Wilson seems most at home in his herb and vegetable garden, where he grows everything from lemongrass to peanuts, pineapples to bitter gourd for the property’s award-winning restaurants.
One of many bowls in which they feature is cao lau, a Hoi An–style noodle dish with roast pork and coriander, mint, basil, and more unfamiliar leaves joining noodles and fried squares of dough. The real hero, however, is a unique local sauce made from chili, tomato, sesame, and garlic. Sweet and sticky and dark all at once, it’s the ideal accompaniment to any dish, but goes especially well with Wilson’s muc nuong calamari, which arrives at my table perfectly charred from the poolside grill. The chef explains Vietnam’s extraordinary food diversity by pointing out that even though Hoi An is barely 30 kilometers south of Da Nang, its specialties are utterly distinct, and its chili sauce is hard to find anywhere else.
Despite being a fixture on the local tourist circuit, Hoi An’s well-preserved Old Town still retains true charm. Among the lanterns, laneways, and beautiful 17th- and 18th-century architecture, the most famous banh mi merchant in a place renowned for them is 81-year-old Madame Khanh. The self-styled “banh mi queen” is clearly a canny marketer, but she is also a craftswoman without rival, slowly and methodically filling her baguettes with a spread of her homemade pork pâté and deft moves of her chopsticks. They’re the best I eat, a kaleidoscope of ingredients, flavors, and textures.
The last word on the food of this remarkable stretch of Vietnam lies with Duc Tran. His is an extraordinary story: after leaving Ho Chi Minh City as a teenage refugee on a boat bound for Malaysia, he was eventually adopted by a Mexican family in Texas, and went on to live in Central America and Australia before returning to start his own restaurant business, a now-thriving enterprise that includes Mai Fish and Mango Mango.
“Vietnamese cuisine is all about five tastes, senses, and textures in every single dish,” Duc confirms. “Even the humble banh mi here in Hoi An—one bite delivers sweet, sour, salty, bitter, and umami. There’s fatty meat, crispy and crunchy vegetables, soft bread, and creamy pâté. When you eat it with your hands, you eat with the five senses—your eyes, nose, ears, tongue, and fingers. Wherever I’ve been in the world, there’s just nothing like it.”
The Details
<h5>WHERE TO EAT</h5>
Banh Xeo Ba Duong 
280/23 Hoang Dieu St., Da Nang
Banh Mi Ba Lan 
62 Trung Nu Vuong St., Da Nang
Mi Quang Ba Vi 
166 Le Dinh Duong St., Da Nang
<a href="https://www.danang.intercontinental.com/dining/la-maison-1888/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">La Maison 1888</a> 
InterContinental Danang Sun Peninsula Resort; 84-511/393-8888
<a href="https://www.mangomangohoian.com/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Mango Mango</a> 
45 D Nguyen Phuc Chu, Hoi An; 84-510/391-1863
<h5>GETTING THERE</h5>
Once requiring a connection from Hanoi or Ho Chi Minh City, Da Nang’s fast-expanding international airport now services numerous direct flights to regional destinations, including Singapore (<a href="https://www.singaporeair.com/en_UK/sg/home#/book/bookflight" target="_blank" rel="noopener" class="broken_link">Singapore Airlines</a>), Hong Kong (<a href="https://www.hkexpress.com/en-hk/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Hong Kong Express</a>), and Kuala Lumpur (<a href="https://www.airasia.com/en/gb" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">AirAsia</a>).
<h5>WHERE TO STAY</h5>
<a href="https://www.danang.intercontinental.com/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">InterContinental Danang Sun Peninsula Resort</a> 
Bai Bac, Da Nang; 84-511/393-8888; doubles from US$380
<a href="https://www.fourseasons.com/hoian/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Four Seasons Resort The Nam Hai, Hoi An, Vietnam</a> 
Hamlet 1, Dien Duong Village, Dien Ban District; 84-510/940-000; doubles from US$650
This article originally appeared in the <a href="http://www.destinasian.com/magazine/02-2016/" class="broken_link">February/March 2016</a> print issue of DestinAsian magazine (“Dishing Up Da Nang”).

On the Food Trail in Da Nang

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