69: A tale of two bột chiên
One of Vietnam's all-star snacks
Welcome to my little dining out (or sometimes in) project. Its purpose is to get more acquainted with Vietnamese cuisine while I have the privilege of living in Vietnam. A tale of two… will see me try the same dish at two different restaurants. Trying something once is great, but two tries, hopefully in quick succession, should offer me (just slightly) more insight into the dish.
Whether it’s something I’ve had before or one that is brand new, my hope is that the small comparison will help me better understand the dish, what variations might exist, and what I generally think of it. I want to become less ignorant when writing about Vietnamese food and a less ignorant resident of Vietnam.
I am also a recovering picky eater and still on the journey of understanding what my more mature palate is. I hope this project will help with that, too.
Previous tales have been on phở; bánh cuốn; bún mọc; bánh mì chay; xôi gà, trà cúc, bún bò Huế, and bánh xèo.
Trying to remember when, where, or from who I first learned about bột chiên (fried rice flour “cakes”) has not been an easy memory exercise for my middle-aged brain. If I were to place a bet, it would have been from fellow foodie Ben. And I’m thinking it might have been a photo he posted on Twitter years ago now.
The first description of the dish most give is that the crispy-chewy cakes are a popular after school snack. Once you try it, you want to expand that definition (and the hours of most bột chiên spots) to include a pre-game (read: drinking), after game, or hangover snack. It’s a perfect blend of carbs and grease (protein, too, usually) that tides you through your moment of need, whether that’s dinner that seems hours away or as balance for the alcohol that will or has already wreaked a little havoc in your system.
I also want to expand the definition to a visitor must-try. Finding a stall on a hot afternoon, hours after you’ve had your cơm tấm and before your plans for phở, to have a break with a plate of bột chiên is a fine idea. Grabbing a box to go to enjoy alongside some bia hơi elsewhere would I’m sure work, too.
Bột chiên basics: A dough of rice and tapioca flours (the chewy) is steamed and then cut into the shop’s choice of rectangular prism, resulting in a little “cake.” They are then shallow fried to golden (the crispy) and dressed with some veg. A sweetened, soy-based sauce comes with, which you can use to dip or pour over the cakes. And like a lot of dishes in Vietnam, the sauce is essential for flavour and making the dish sing as a whole. It is expected that you will order your bột chiên with one or two eggs, and pricing usually only appears this way. How the eggs are fried with the cakes is also the shop’s choice. They are eaten with a fork and spoon.
When researching good spots for my first trial two years ago, I ran across a popular spot that makes almost what you could consider a Platonic — or maybe a chef’s — ideal version of bột chiên. Their cakes are small and closer to cubes, upping the amount of surface area that can get golden and crispy. Instead of shallow frying, the shop employs a deep fryer. The cubes come out like perfect French fries with their near greaseless exterior and soft interior. And the eggs are also deep fried! It was serious love at first bite for me, and why I ordered from there when I made my bánh mì bột chiên.
But bột chiên are not on heavy rotation in my life because as delicious as they are, they do kind of sit like a brick in your stomach when you’re done. You’re not full, per se, but the carb-fat-salt-sugar mass will keep your system occupied for a moment. Doing these posts about Vietnamese fare was the perfect opportunity for me to explore more options, and Google told me there were some good ones in my neighbourhood.
Bột Chiên 1 (BC1)
From what I’ve seen in photos and experienced myself, the eggs for your plate of bột chiên are usually added in one of two ways at the end of cake frying: whole, and then lightly mixed around so that there is quite a bit of yolk and white distinction; or lightly scrambled first, creating kind of a layer of fried eggs around the cakes. BC1 has notoriety for doing the first style with soft yolks if you want them. Which, definitely, yes, please.
Although BC1 is snugly tucked into the corner of a litte hẻm, it’s not too hard to find as kind Google reviewers have snapped the signs to look for. The shop is a two-room affair at the front of a house, with a small area of four tables for dining to the left and the uncle’s kitchen to the right. I think if it’s busy, more tables are set up outside. When I arrived about an hour before closing, the only others there were the home’s family members who were watching TV in a back room and the uncle up front scrolling on his phone, waiting for someone like me.
Some other reviewers are not kind, in that they call him gruff and unfriendly. I can see it, as he didn’t crack a smile or offer a greeting. But he also just might be an introvert who makes great bột chiên. I had seen on the ShoppeeFood page that when you order, you specify if you want trứng chín (cooked eggs) or trứng lòng đào (soft boiled). This was crucial for my ability to attempt to get the latter. When I said “hai trứng, lòng đào” as best I could, I was relieved he repeated “lòng đào” with a nod. There was sweet chili sauce and sa tế on the tables for dipping sauce doctoring.
Although a snack, a plate of bột chiên isn’t really snack-sized, as you can see. BC1’s come topped with shredded papaya and carrots, seasoned scallions, and some chunky tóp mỡ, which is like Vietnamese-style chicharrones but more chewy than crispy — it’s great. As was this plate. “Utterly delicious” was my initial note.
The rice cakes were small planks that had the desired texture of a craggly, crispy crust with a tender interior. One was easily halved with just the pressure of my spoon. Because everything is kind of stuck together due to the eggs, my method is to spoon over the sauce rather than dip individual bites. That means your cakes will soften quicker. But like fries with gravy, chilaquiles, or katsudon, crispy things that get a little soggy are sometimes a beautiful thing. What I liked about getting the yolky eggs is that I could soften with less salt. Those eggs, though. Fantastic. Yes, the yolk, but that the edges were crispy offered even more great textural contrast.
My only complaint was how long the papaya and carrot strands were. I twirled them with my fork like spaghetti to make them manageable. Wasn’t into that. But they did add the nice element of freshness they were supposed to.
Bột Chiên 2 (BC2)
BC 2 is mere minutes from my apartment and is the classic stall set up only in the late afternoon hours to, I’m assuming, serve the kids who will exit the school down the way. On that note, I was glad I went around 30 minutes before dismissal when it was mostly just busy with takeaway orders. Everything about the operation seems temporary with all things needed hung about the cart.
Another uncle mans the pan here, with two aunties to serve and package. He makes his cakes and eggs the other way, with very lightly scrambled eggs (egg and yolk still somewhat distinct) poured around the cakes and cooked until well done. He then flips the mass onto the plate so that it arrives to you eggs up. Scallions are the only topping, with a small amount of shredded papaya arriving in the soy sauce, along with a squeeze of sweet chili sauce.
I’ll get it out of the way to say this presentation was the low point for me. I don’t like such chili sauces as I find many taste just like spicy ketchup. Too sweet for me. Because of the small dish, it was near impossible to spoon just the seasoned soy sauce. And because the papaya had been plopped on top, the thicker chili sauce just stuck to it, coming along for the ride when I moved the shreds to the plate. I would eat this plate again in a heartbeat, but I would make sure to say no chili sauce upon ordering.
All the good now. I totally loved the layer of crispy egg. Browned, well-done eggs are not something we celebrate often, and these prove we should. Soft yolks are great, but so are hard ones! His cakes were more like shoe boxes in their shape. Being ever so slightly thicker than BC1 made their interior more custardy. While the shape could be the reason for this, my understanding is that the ratio of rice flour to tapioca starch is cook’s discretion. A difference in dough composition could also be the reason, then.
Although I didn’t see it on their simple menu sign (choice between one or two eggs), I’ve read that they have a đặc biệt that has some pasta thrown in, the shape called nui. I’ve written before how my first and only trial of nui didn’t leave me wanting more, but I’m intrigued by its possible inclusion in bột chiên. You know I’ll let you know if I try it.
So, do you like bột chiên? How often do you eat it? Are you a one or two egg person? If you’ve never had them, would you like to try them? LMK!