05: Your food is on its way

Saigon turned me into a delivery girl

I don’t recall having any other food than pizza being delivered to a place of residence until I was at least in my 30s. Pick-up of other take-out food, yes, occasionally, but only pizza came with doorstep service.

Service that was always more out of necessity than convenience. The length of time that delivery pizza would take meant that getting it delivered was something I, my family, or my friends only ever did if the quicker turnaround time of pick-up was somehow impossible—maybe I was on a babysitting gig or maybe it was a single parent night or maybe we came home to no food after a road trip. Very few times was it out of novelty or for a treat because of its stronger presence on all the American TV shows and commercials we watched. But that definitely did happen.

Even when I started living alone it wasn’t something I really ever thought to do. Cards were how I paid for everything, so the needed cash (way back when) and the extra time seemed like a hassle. When I lived in Vancouver, it was just so much easier to do a sushi pick-up than a delivery. I always have more than enough groceries in my house, so needing a meal during inclement weather also has never made delivery a requirement.

Moving to New York City was supposed to be my big delivery moment. Pop culture has taught us that it is a food delivery mecca, and I remember having a conversation with a possible sublet host where he told me my life would change because of the choice and convenience of NYC delivery.

It didn’t.

Even after the Seamless revolution, it didn’t. I had my life-on-the-Upper-West-Side Seinfeld moments where I got Chinese delivery a couple of times, but it always felt so meh. I think it was being faced with all the delivery choice in combination with a newly matured palate that I could finally articulate why delivery never captivated me.

• I like my hot foods hot and cold foods cold.

  If I am in possession of a microwave, it’s not unusual for me to reheat a freshly cooked meal halfway through. I want scalding. I want steam. Conversely, I will put cereal/yogurt/ice cream dishes in the fridge to pre-chill. I will stick yogurt in the freezer for a few minutes before I eat it. Delivery hasn’t been able to compete with these temperature proclivities. The marvel that is individualized logic posits that warming up food that I cooked is acceptable, but warming up food that I paid a premium for is not.

• Food that sits in a box ruins many textures, often textures that I specifically look to a restaurant for because I can’t or don’t want to try to achieve it at home. Hello, deep-fried crispiness.

• I like to eat restaurant food because I like being in restaurants.

  I will pay restaurant prices for all of the hospitality and ambiance I get on top of the food. At home, getting none of that, I feel mad/sad/disappointed at eating out of a box and/or plating the food myself. The food loses the magic I always associate with restaurant food. The curtain has been pulled back, and I see it now as just food that I’m eating because I need to eat, not because I want an experience away from home to socialize or try something new or feel momentarily on break from life. Delivery has made me feel like looking down at that food in a box is like I’m a pig looking down at a trough.

My go-to line about delivery is something like, “I’d rather have freshly made hot toast than tepid food from a box.” So, in addition to my NYC delivery experiences being countable on one hand, so too are my pandemic ones. And they had the added annoyance of only making me miss safely eating in restaurants even more. The pandemic forced topsy-turvy changes upon the restaurant industry multiple times over, but yet it didn’t change my affection for delivery. Of course, my own cooking journey (scroll back on the IG) cannot be dismissed as playing a role, but I left Canada thinking I would still choose fresh toast over a boxed meal.

And I’m here in Saigon to say I’m finally having my delivery moment. Never would I have guessed that this move would be the one that turned me into someone who not only likes getting food delivered, but sometimes prefers it. Let’s take a look at how I now counter all of my previous arguments.

• I like my hot foods hot and cold foods cold.

  Motorbike delivery through online apps happens so fast here that it’s only if you’re ordering something from pretty far away that you have to worry about significant temperature changes. Waiting more than 15 minutes is rare. Plus, the extremely hot weather ensures your food can’t really cool down when it’s with the driver. Tropical heat also means I don’t really enjoy eating scalding hot food anymore. I will never become a local because I find eating the hot noodle soups in hot weather often just too much for me. Rare is the feeling that I want to sit down and relax over a meal that will make the heat feel more intense. I’m not afraid of sweat, but when you’re already drenched, more doesn’t help. (I feel my noodle soup moments will come during rainy season.) Eating food that’s only warm or room temperature is now much more my speed, so if there’s cool down during transport, no biggie. Only in the frigidity of too-cold air conditioning do I want hot food these days—and then it just quickly turns lukewarm anyway/can’t win. Cold desserts I may order have so far been sufficiently insulated or ice-packed, so they slip into the fridge or freezer with no pre-eating melt degradation.

• Food that sits in a box ruins many textures.

  To be honest, such textures aren’t my go-to’s anyway. That IG archive will show you how I like soft and saucy and chewy things much more. Especially any of those on rice. I can get so much of that here! Over-rice cafeteria-type restaurants are common, and delivery of such dishes hasn’t failed yet. Soupless noodles also travel fine because the noodles are obviously separated from any sauce, and while a spring roll might often be included, I love soaking mine in nước chấm until almost soft anyway.

• I like to eat restaurant food because I like being in restaurants.

  Most of the places I order delivery from are the small, mostly family-run places that serve only one or a handful of dishes. They almost all have the same stainless steel tables and stools. The dishes come in solo portions. You choose your seat, you order, you eat, you leave. Functional dining for the work day or those with too-small kitchens or those just in need of quick nourishment. And of course, they’re very affordable.

  I might argue that these types of restaurants are what Fast Casual wishes it could be or what we as customers wish it could be. Because it’s fast food made with real, fresh ingredients without pretence or branding. The speed and efficiency is inherent to only offering a few things and having many elements of a dish ready to plate in advance. When a customer comes in or when my delivery order prints, putting the dish together takes mere minutes because very few things, if anything, need to be cooked from scratch. When a cauldron of broth has been cooking all day, you only need to assemble the noodles and toppings. The frying and wrapping of industrial products at true fast food restaurants often takes longer. And I realize that I’ve just described what a place like Chipotle or Sweet Green does, but… they don’t, do they? There always seems to be aggravation and ineptitude that mucks with our desire for fresh food fast from such places.

  These small places aren’t really for a night out or a special birthday lunch, so I feel less guilt about not visiting in person. As mentioned, I suspect when I want those scalding soups during rainy doldrums, I’ll be sitting on those stools more often. But for now, when I’m so busy at my desk, getting these meals delivered is preferred. In the middle of the day or when I’m tired after work, being able to eat dinner in my underwear and set up my laptop to watch a show can be much more desirable than eating my plate of cơm tấm at the establishment.

  
  Paper napkins are also not always a given at such places. And if they are, it’s a tiny, one-ply affair. You’ll get a wet nap that will cost a few cents, but if you’re someone like me who doesn’t have much grace despite trying, you need a sturdy napkin at the ready for dribbles and spills. And! The sweat. OF COURSE I could pay for a second wet nap, but I don’t always want to show I’m just that much of a mess. Pride, not price. At home, I have all the paper towels and napkins I might need, as well as the privacy not to care if I messily eat. It must also be said that as a foreign worker who lives and mostly eats away from the busiest tourist areas, there are often eyes upon me as I eat. Although I’ve been commended on my chopstick use by a pair of said eyes, I am always a little self-conscious. The nerves naturally translate into being that much more of a mess/can’t win.

  

The combined affordability and speed of the delivery apps might be as revelatory as caring less about temperature for why I’ve had such a change of heart. There are always coupons to reduce or eliminate the nominal delivery charge, and I usually just even steven it by giving that charge to the driver as tip. I am still giving the restaurant business, and they don’t have to clean up after me. Where are the holes in my thinking that this is not terrible for all involved?

I’ve hearted a long list of restaurants on my Grab app, but I can’t stop ordering from the same places. Such is the predicament of someone who prefers repeat visits to restaurants than constantly needing something new. And there’s the rub! (Beyond the extra garbage.) The relationship building. The validation that comes when someone recognizes me at a restaurant has become an addiction (cue the Cheers theme). It is a therapy-session-needed jumble of feelings based on my lifelong struggle with family belonging, lack of self validation, and a passion for food.

The more I order the same thing from the cơm tấm or cơm chay places, I wonder if they see my name and recognize my order requests and add-ons. I always write a review, hoping maybe that they will, not for anything more to happen than maybe understanding how happy their cooking made me next time they see it come in.

I am a delivery girl now, but I’m also still the girl who wishes there were more ways to show appreciation than through payment.