steven.vu

Cây Tre, Shoreditch

I’ve been to Cây Tre before. I went a couple of years ago. It was a dingy old place selling good food at cheap prices. I think it was even one of those “bring your own booze” types of places. The place has had a well deserved make over so we decided to check it out.

The place has had the Shoreditch makeover, with patches of stupid coloured lights and a retro patterned wallpaper. It isn’t too garish and seems to suit the place. It’s still small and cramped with clues which allude to it’s less illustrious past.; the menu is this hideous laminated affair where by the laminate has started to peel, smudging the ink into an incoherent mess. The waiting staff also seemed to be a little incompetent. It wasn’t busy and they were rushed off their feet while not attending to anyone.

We had starters of cua farci and bo la lot. Cua farci translates to stuffed crab with a gloopy mess of a sauce that looks like vomit. If you can get past its consistency, it’s pretty tasty. With a decent camera, it almost looks appetising.

Even snapped with a LEICA D-LUX 4, it only just manages to look appealing. Picture lovingly stolen from someone who can actually take pictures, Helen Yuet Ling Pang @ World Foodie Guide.

Our other starter is one of my favourites, “bo la lot.” It’s fatty beef wrapped around wild betel leaves and grilled. The meat is succulent and it’s accompanied by this great aroma which sticks to everything.

My main is shown below, I don’t know exactly what it’s called because they mixed up the order. I actually asked for Bún thịt nướng Cha Gio, which is vermicelli noodles with barbecued pork and spring rolls. Instead, they gave me two bowls, one with spring rolls, bo la lop and prawns in batter, the other with barbecued pork. The first bowl was excellent, so good in fact that if I’m passing through I’d pop in just for a bowl. It’s let down though, by the prawns in batter, which tasted like they were out of a frozen packet from wing yip.

The nouc cham, which is the essential sauce to any Vietnamese dish, had already been poured on. I usually like to pour to taste, as many places over sweeten the sauce, but they seemed to do a decent job with it.

The other bowl was pretty standard, the meat wasn’t as well seasoned as Mien Tay, but it wasn’t abysmal. The last dish was fried tofu. I don’t think i’ll have kind things to say about fried tofu in any establishment, so we’ll just skip along.

With the vast array of Vietnamese restaurants down Kingsland Road keeping everyone honest, I’d suggest going down there for some Vietnamese nosh. If you can’t be bothered with the 5 minute walk, then this’ll do.

Mien Tay 2, 180 Lavender Hill | Dining with mother

My sister is thinking of opening up a small cafe, selling Vietnamese baguettes. I’m not enthralled by the idea, but I guess that’s for another day.

Anyway, mother and I decided to go out to eat some Vietnamese food. We’re Vietnamese, and so are a little snobbish about what restuarants give that authentic taste. The hub of Vietnamese cuisine is down Kingsland Road, a road connecting Hackney to Shoreditch.

The area used to be a twilight zone, with a large Vietnamese population. Rents were cheap and a couple of restaurants decided to open up. Somewhere along the way, Shoreditch became cool and these resturants picked up a vibe. There are now half a dozen down a tiny stretch and they’re all getting gentrified as we speak. Viet Hoa, was one of the first to open and they’ve now gone through a minimalist urbane refit. Unfortunatly, the focus of food got lost along the way.

Ergh. Country folk style signage. Stolen from “kake_pugh” of flickr.

Not wanting to travel across town, mother and I decided to visit Mien Tay 2, a sibling restuarant of one down Kingsland Road. I think the name translates to something like “to the occident.”

The shop has one of the most hideous decors around. The signage is tatty, even though it hasn’t been open for a year and there’s this garish tourquise hinting around the fittings on the inside. The table coverings are paper and the furniture definitely isn’t what you’d call trendy. It doesn’t even have the run down charm of a cafe. Mother described it as the style of the “country folk,” it doesn’t translate well, but it’s an insult. I guess the owners thought, fuck it, they’re here to eat, they won’t care. Typically Vietnamese. Authentic.

Green papaya salad with beef jerk AKA Gỏi Đu Đủ Khô Bò. Subtle yet delicate.

The waiter came and looked puzzled, speak English or Vietnamese, Vietnamese or English. We smiled as he came out with his broken English and humoured him by speaking in English. We then went back to our conversation in Vietnamese.

We ordered quite a few things, but I’m not inclined to hark on about the subtle notes or how delicate the food was. To me it’s just hearty home grub. If you’d like more refined reviews, Lizzie, PT Expat, and Cheese and Biscuits, write kind words about the restaurant. Bella also has nice things to say about its’ parent restaurant. Pictures were affectionately stolen from the above.

Vermicelli noodles with barbecue pork and Vietnamese spring rolls AKA Bun cha gio thit nuong

My favourite dish has to be the above, Bún chả giò thịt nướng. It’s the shizzle. The only criticism I have for the food is perhaps it’s a little too sweet. In Vietnam they say the North use MSG and the South use sugar. The further south you go, the sweeter food becomes, the further north the more poisoned your food becomes. These guys definitely hail from the south; that being said there was MSG amuk.

Tenderly riddled with MSG

I get this weird reaction when I eat MSG, my saliva glands contract and it’s slightly discomforting. The pho we ordered contained quite a lot of MSG. I don’t really have a problem with MSG, I just prefer it used sparingly.

Cheap as chips, at about £30. Well, that’s a lie. There’s a chippy next door, that’s definitely cheaper. Go try this place out.

I really like this spoonback/trackback review concept. Very cool.

The stabber of Vinh

We arrived in Vinh; mother, her friend, her children and I. Something was immediately suspicious. Vinh is a shitty city in the middle of Vietnam, it’s small dusty and close to the border with Cambodia. Everyone is poor. We pull up to a large house. A mansion.

At the front of the house was a large bar and restaurant decked out with expensive furniture. The same was true for the hotel next door. A mid sized hotel which was nicely furnished. The problem with it all was, it was deserted. The bar and restaurant was closed, the hotel was closed. It was as if someone with more money than sense thought it would be a good idea one summer to open up a bar and a hotel, only to get bored by the whole thing.

When we got into the house proper, everything was ornate. There were two of those china vases that were 2m high adorning the entrance and lots of shiny swords adorning the walls. I flicked on the 52 inch TV and watched BBC World rather nervously in the living room.

I quizzed my mother as to why we were there. She said it was because her friend had to visit someone. That night I overheard a few people speaking. My mother’s friend couldn’t visit. There were problems with the paper work. The prison wouldn’t allow it at such short notice.

The prison. I confronted mother and she came out with it. Her friend was to meet the stabber of Vinh; The stabber of Vinh?

The story goes like this:

The stabber of Vinh was part of a triad, based in Vinh. In Vietnamese we don’t use the word triad, it translates closer to the “black society”. Anyway, the black society traffics Heroin from Cambodia into Vietnam. With Vinh being situated in the centre of Vietnam, and its transport links to Hanoi and Saigon, it made perfect sense for the trade. So this gentleman imported Heroin. One day, he got into an argument with his “brother,” and stabbed him, hence, the name “The stabber of Vinh”. Fearing prosecution he fled to England.

Once he got to England, under a fake name, he set to work doing what all Vietnamese people without legal status do. He started growing weed. Weed houses.

The authorities have been pretty good at closing down weed houses. They use infrared cameras attached to helicopters and track houses with a lil too much infrared leaking out of them. This was how he was caught. Once in prison, the stabber of Vinh came up with a master plan. Seek asylum. The fool tried to convince the British authorities that he was in fact the stabber of Vinh. He couldn’t be sent back to Vietnam or else he’d be executed.

The British authorities at first didn’t believe him. Why on earth would you admit to being a murderer. The stabber of Vinh was rather persuasive though, proudly producing newspaper clippings of him and the event. He was promptly sent back to Vietnam. The extradition was a big thing. The story goes that 9 police cars flanked the car he was in, fearing the black society would attack. My mother knew him, because she was hired to act as a translator for the extradition.

That’s the aside. So here I was, sitting in the house of the head of the black society. She was a Cambodian woman who spoke perfect Vietnamese. She drove a brand new BMW as her pride and joy, a lovely Lexus was getting some work done. As she drove us around she would stop at green lights and go at red lights. Seriously. She was high on Ice. Ice being the aka of crystal meth in Asia.

The next day I was sitting in the house. Within the next hour I saw about 15 people enter the house. They all entered rooms and vanished from sight. 2 hours later everyone emerged. They all looked a lil spaced out.

We ate grilled Goat’s breast and drank Goat’s breast vodka. That isn’t just a funky name. The lurid drink is white in colour and does indeed contain Goat’s breast.

As we were leaving, the woman gave my mother a black block. She said it was a chinese medicine made out of tigers in Cambodia. Really expensive and very much against the WWF. I was so happy to get back to Saigon.

In Saigon, my mother’s friend introduced me to a pretty girl. She was the daughter of one of those unsavory men we met in Vinh. She had studied the hotel industry in Geneva while her father sold vast sums of heroin. The vacant hotel next door may have been hers. She tipified the sweet girl next door and was pretty. She only wore dresses. I caught her stealing a few glances at me.

Sony MX30-7000

Just went round to my mother’s friends house, she wanted me to check out a Sony Camcorder. Apparently it had been stolen and was selling for £100. The model number was MX30-7000 which piqued my curiosity. Not that I know model numbers off by heart(Like a true geek) but the formating was wrong, most usually come in the form of a 3 letter code such as DCR – 350(Digital Camera) or a name such as Cybershot U/P series.

Anyway, turns out it’s a camera in a camcorder’s facade. The poor guy spent hours trying to find out where to shove in his mini DV. The thing takes SD cards and is rated at 4.1 megapixels although it is probably interpolated into smitherines. Everybody knows Sony uses Sony Memory sticks, gosh.

Those Chinese Pirateers are pretty adventurous to go about trying to fake a whole camcorder. Atleast one person fell for the gag.