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Che is evidence that with enough sugar and coconut milk, just about any characteristically savory food can be transformed into dessert. I’ve consumed a lot of che during my stay in Saigon and thought it was high time I recounted the good, the bad and the ugly.

Che Tap Cam

A little bit of column A and a little bit of column B—that’s the gist of che tap cam. Whatever the dealer is selling, she’ll spoon in a smidgen of each. You’ll most likely receive layers of beans, jellies, tapioca, coconut milk, shaved ice and more beans. This tall glass came from Che My in District 1.

Che Dau Hu

My current favorite! The Astronomer and I each had a bowl of che dau hu for dessert today—his with coconut milk and mine without. I love che dau hu because its spicy, sweet and maybe even a little healthy. This pretty bowl was from our visit to Hoi An.

Che Troi Nuoc

I was obsessed with che troi nuoc when I first arrived in Saigon. The tapioca orb is filled with mung bean paste and served soaked in coconut milk with a sprinkling of toasted sesame seeds. Too chewy for The Astronomer, the texture is lovely in my eyes. Each individual ball goes for 1,000-2,000 VND. The dealer up top sold this bowl to me at her shed in District 1.

By the way, while I was enjoying my che, The Astronomer spied a huge rat scurrying under me! I didn’t see the rodent, but The Astronomer reported that it was a big one and inches away from touching my feet.

Che Bap

I ordered The Astronomer a bowl of che bap (corn) while I had the che troi nuoc. Although corn is one of his favorite vegetables, he was not much of a che bap fan. My grandma makes this che often for my grandpa, but never employs coconut milk. I may have to give Saigon che dealers a citation for coconut milk abuse.

Che Chuoi

After I finished the che troi nuoc, I still wasn’t ready to give up my stool at the che shed. I ordered a bowl of che chuoi, which consisted of caramelized bananas, sesame seeds, tiny tapioca peals, salt and coconut milk. Sweet plus salty equals magic.

Che Thach Dau Xanh

Also from Che My, this tall glass is filled with mung bean paste (dau xanh) and Vietnamese Jello (thach). Not much to say about it except that it was simple, straightforward and good. Without the thach and shaved ice, the che’s texture would have been reminiscent of mashed potatoes and gravy.

Che Buoi

Easily the most disappointing che I’ve consumed in Vietnam. With a name like che buoi, I was expecting some sort of pomelo and citrus creation. Instead I received a cup of boring featuring layers upon layers of more boring topped with peanuts.

Che Troi Nuoc Mang

This was my first bowl of che in Vietnam. The che troi nuoc mang was part of a set lunch from a very pretty restaurant in District 1 called Sen. Unlike the the che troi nuoc above, this one was filled with a savory mung bean paste and a bit of meat. The tapioca spheres sat in a clear, sweet, ginger broth. An interesting departure from the original, but I prefer the sweet version.

Che Dau Tran

Although it’s difficult to make out from the picture, this che features black eyed peas and glutinous rice. The usual suspects (coconut milk and tapioca pearls) are also present. I bought this bowl of che dau trang from an alleyway dealer in District 4. Perhaps the most pudding-like che, its mushy texture is a treat. Trust me.

This my friends, is what I call Vietnamese Jello. The technical name is thạch, which doesn’t quite roll off the tongue like J-E-L-L-O. It’s a light dessert made of water, sugar, agar and a variety of flavorings including coconut milk, coffee and pandan leaves.

This particular version was made by the Golden Sea Hotel (a fantastic place to stay if you’re ever in Da Nang). The thạch was served at the hotel’s sumptuous breakfast buffet, which was prepared each morning for guests. What’s most notable about the Golden Sea’s thạch is the number of layers it contains—eight!

My Aunt Phuong and I made some thạch this past summer and encountered difficulty with the layers not adhering properly due to poor timing. Since we had trouble working with only three layers, I was quite impressed with the hotel’s eight layer execution.

Look at those beautiful layers—the white ones are coconut, the lime green one is pandan, the tan ones are condensed milk and coffee, the dark brown one is plain coffee and the orange one is gac fruit (I think). Eaten together, I find it impossible to differentiate between each individual flavor; it just tastes sweet, refreshing and gelatin-y!

October 7, 2007
Cuisine: Vietnamese, Dessert

Tu Xuong Street
District 3, Ho Chi Minh City

Phone: none
Website: none

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Che Dau Hu - sweet tofu in a ginger syrup with coconut milk (2,000 VND)

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Everyday from noon to 1:30 PM, the woman pictured above (wearing a flannel shirt and conical hat) sells sweet tofu outside my office on Tu Xuong Street. Every so often on my way back from lunch, I’ll take a seat on one of her especially stumpy stools and order a bowl.

Being a street vendor is backbreaking work, especially when the food has to be lugged around over one’s shoulders. The sweet tofu dealer carries a large pot of tofu on one side of her “pole” and the ginger syrup and coconut milk on the other.

When I place my order, she uses a wide and shallow metal spoon to scoop up a few chunks of the fresh tofu into a bowl and proceeds to douse it with syrup and coconut milk. I’ve previously blogged about my love for this treat, but what’s notable about her rendition is the employment of coconut milk. After trying sweet tofu with coconut milk on several occasions, I’ve concluded that I like mine better without. The creaminess of the milk is pleasant, but unnecessary because what I really dig is the spicy ginger.

You’d think in Saigon’s heat that a warm dessert would probably be the least desirable thing, but sometimes it just works.

The majority of the foods I’ve been eating in Vietnam were introduced to me by my family growing up. Recently, I’ve been making an extra-effort to try new delights for variety’s sake and to expand my Vietnamese food repertoire.

After reading a mouthwatering post about chuoi nep nuong on Noodlepie, I set out to find the treat in the streets of Saigon. It didn’t take long for me to locate a man serving it up on Yersin Street in District 1. The going rate for one banana was 3,000 VND.

Chuoi nep nuong consists of gelatinous rice wrapped around a ripened finger banana and grilled to a golden hue. The grilled-up banana and rice combo are cut into small pieces and drenched with sweet coconut milk.

The gelatinous rice is chewy, crispy and sticky off the grill, while the bananas caramelize beautifully. The warm coconut milk ties together all the flavors and the result is totally fabulous.

The annual Mid-Autumn Moon Festival (Tết Trung Thu) came and went last Tuesday without much fanfare from the Gastronomy camp. There were a few celebrations taking place around town, but The Astronomer and I were too beat after work and running to partake in the fun. Are we getting old? I’m afraid so.

One aspect of the holiday that The Astronomer and I whole-heartedly embraced was the consumption of Moon Cakes (Bánh Trung Thu):

Most Moon Cakes are baked and contain one or more whole salted egg yolks in its center to symbolize the full moon. The saltiness of the yolk balances well with the sweet filling in the Moon Cakes.

Traditional Moon Cakes have an imprint on top consisting of the Chinese characters for “longevity” or “harmony” as well as the name of the bakery and filling in the Moon Cake. Imprints of a moon, a woman on the moon, flowers, vines, or a rabbit may surround the characters for additional decoration.

Moon Cakes are expensive and considered a delicacy. Production is labor-intensive and few people make them at home. Most Moon Cakes are bought at Asian markets and bakeries.

The Astronomer bought his Moon Cake from our favorite bakery in District 10 for 30,000 VND. The cake was imprinted with coy fish and filled with various roasted meats including pork and ham, lotus seed paste, two salted egg yolks, and sesame seeds. I bought a Moon Cake from a vegetarian restaurant in District 3 for 15,000 VND. The cake was imprinted with a lotus blossom and contained cashews, sesame seeds, whole lotus seeds, lotus seed paste, and mock roasted meats. Moon Cakes come in a variety of shapes and fillings, but the types we purchased were labeled thap cam, which roughly translates to “a little bit of everything.”

I ate Moon Cakes on a few occasions growing up, but never realized they contained any meat because they were so sweet. However, now that my palette has matured a bit, I can definitely discern between the meaty elements and sweet ones and can appreciate the craftsmanship that goes into each cake.

The day after Tết Trung Thu, all the bakeries in town began offering cakes for either half-off or “buy one get one free.” Between The Astronomer and I, we stocked up on four extra cakes to prolong the deliciousness of the holiday.