A Tailor's Tale – The Constant Epicurean

Clothing Concerns

Anyone who is a regular reader knows that I have an incredibly difficult time finding clothing. Seeing that the average male in Vietnam weighs 128 pounds, 99 for women, and stands just over 5 feet 4 inches tall, clothing for a person of my stature is incredibly hard to come by. At 8 inches taller than the average, and well, we will just say substantially heavier, traditional clothing outlets are just not an option. I had some luck in Ho Chi Minh, but it is the biggest city in Vietnam and with that comes a more international variety.

So Diem and I set off to the street of fabric to find some material we liked to have a few articles designed and made. As with most things in Da Nang, everything you will be looking for is on one street. A street known as Cô Giang, meaning simply Ms. Giang. We stopped in front of a shop named Thai Xinh and began perusing their fabric selection. I wanted something breathable, fashionable, durable, and in a nice color. We settled on a linen blend, perfect for the hot weather. It wasn’t a cheap fabric. We paid almost $40 US for enough material to have two shirts and two pairs of shorts fashioned. Which I guess really isn’t that much at just under $10 per garment.

A Tailor's Tale — The street with the fabric shops.

An introduction

Ms. Thu, our landlady, knows a family that operates a tailor shop. The Huấn family shop is in the neighborhood of MT house. After we procured the fabric Thu took Diem and I to see Mr. Huấn about some clothes. A quaint little shop in the front of their home. Mr Huấn and his wife met us at the front. Leaving a few jobs they had moments later been busily finishing.

As is usually the case, a bit of fun was had about the size the clothes would need to be, and my overall general appearance. I must say though that fun aside, Huấn listened to every request. I wanted the shirts to not feel restrictive in any spot, and the shorts needed deep pockets and to not draw up on my legs when I climbed on a motorcycle.

Both he and his wife set to work measuring and discussing basic design features. I had originally asked for polo shirts, but he offered button down short sleeves for the same price. It was exactly what I preferred, but wasn’t sure in the logistics. Buttons, material and so forth. He said it would take 4 days, he and his wife had plans for one day and the shop would be closed. With all parties satisfied, we departed to wait for the end result.

Picking up our order

After the required days we headed back to see the end result. I was almost giddy. Hand crafted shorts and shirts, what could be better? We arrived in the morning and were a bit early. Two of the articles were ready, one was in the final stages, a button and pressing. We waited while Huấn put on the final button and his wife pressed the shirts. We would need to return in the afternoon for the second pair of shorts. Huấn rushed me into a back room to try the clothes on, and I must say I was a bit apprehensive. I was expecting the clothes to be tight, or too short, or anything really.

What I found was clothing that had never fit so well. The shirt was perfect, so were the shorts, everything just seemed to hang on me like they were suspended by some invisible frame. The shorts felt like they would fall off, but not because they were, but because they fit so well they didn’t feel there at all. I have had factory suits tailored, pants altered, you know the drill. But I have never had something simple like a pair of shorts or a short sleeve shirt handmade to my body. I have never experienced such joy in donning a garment. It truly felt almost like I was wearing nothing at all.

The Huấn family

If you ever happen to be in Da Nang and need some clothes, do not hesitate to give Huấn and his family a visit. I assure you, you will not be disappointed. Below you can find a link and map to his shop. I can not recommend them enough. Huan is truly a master of his craft. I will be back, and I am already plotting my fabric decisions.

An Anniversary Party

With a fresh wardrobe and an invitation to a dinner party, it was a perfect opportunity for Diem and I to step out for the evening. It had been some time since we had enjoyed an uptown night. Diem was looking forward to joining friends and dressing up for a wonderful evening out in the cool winter night.

With not an entirely clear idea of where we were going, Diem and I loaded on the motorbike and I drove off in a general direction. The restaurant was on Dragon Bridge road on the peninsula side of Da Nang. That was the extent of my knowledge of our destination. We buzzed through the side streets from the shop towards our destination. As we popped out on the street not far from the bridge, Diem surveyed the area looking for the spot. It was actually in sight, and she pointed the restaurant out to me. I cut across 6 lanes of traffic to make a spectacular angled entry onto the sidewalk in front of the establishment.

Tháp Beer

It was big, sheik, and just the type of place in Vietnam I knew well. The kind of place that is a see and be seen kind of establishment. The bright lights, the picture nooks, the tanks of exotic live seafood awaiting your order. To be quickly harvested, prepared, and displayed beautifully for your immersion in a bubbling pot at the center of your table. Overpriced beer and service so attentive as to be almost uncomfortable.

Don’t get me wrong, these big, fancy, open air restaurants in Da Nang are a wonderful night out. It is just that, in my experience, the dingy street side restaurants have just as good of food, none of the fuss, and for pennies on the dollar. But Diem enjoys rubbing elbows with the royalty of Da Nang, so we enjoy an occasional night of pomp and circumstance. They are fun nights, and if you ever get the chance do so. There is nothing more high class, than a night at a high end restaurant in Da Nang.

Awaiting friends

We were the first to arrive and the hostess took us by the tanks to tantalize your taste buds before seating us at a large set table in the middle of the open air dining room. A massive balcony with huge, air conditioned banquet rooms, overlooked our position. An old wooden water tower behind the DJ booth, and neon lights displaying various beer brands. I had originally thought it was a brewery when we pulled up, but it was not to be.

In a short time our friends began to arrive. one friend had spent many years in Houston and was a competent english speaker. I always gravitate towards english speakers, I can’t help it. When you spend the majority of your time without a native speaker of your own language, you tend to naturally gravitate towards any one that can speak it very well.

A Vientamese beer service lesson

I was quite surprised also to see some old friends of ours Tho and Trang. If you read regularly then you may remember them from our wedding. It’s always nice to see old friends. By the time the entire party had arrived we had already had the beverage order in an cases of beer were placed at each of the table. As well as buckets of ice and glassware that arrived in earnest. A typical way of serving beer no matter where you drink it in Vietnam.

The expat bars might be a little more western in this sense of service. Typically a beer is opened and it is poured into your glass. Which almost exclusively has a chunk of ice inside. With a 4 to 5 oz single chunk of ice in your glass, it does not allow you to pour much in. But it doesn’t matter because once you put the can down it belongs to the table and whoever needs it pours from it, and another beer is opened for the table.

Only at this establishment someone kept cold ice in your glass and your glass full. There must have been 6 waiters swarming our table at all times. You could barely get your glass to the table before a fresh chunk of ice was plopped in, and the glass topped off with a freshly opened beer. It was incredibly attentive service, but almost too much. And so this goes on until it doesn’t anymore. Which is usually when it is time to go.

Ordering something

As all of our friends made it to the table the waiters came and began to discuss the order. I quickly lost the conversation as I often do. It wasn’t that important as I would eat whatever came to the table. I wasn’t expecting anything too outrageous at this establishment, but I must have forgotten where I was. While they placed the order I walked to the seafood tanks to wonder about which of the night’s offerings would be brought to the table.

Massive aquatic snails the size of soccer balls, baskets of smaller sea snails, clams and other bivalves basking in the bubbling spa blissfully awaiting someone’s belly. Different species of crabs scuttering about and the thing that most caught my attention. A couple of tanks with a few Brownbanded Bamboo sharks . A huge thanks to my cousin Matt McReynolds for coming through on the shark identification. I would have gone that rabbit hole for hours.

As I was finishing inspecting potential dinner I headed to the other side of the dining room. Diem and her friends were all posting up in one of the little nooks for a photo opp. As I waited for Diem I could see activity at the table and we made our way back. The first series of plates contained very beautifully garnished platters of pork. two versions, one dried and grilled, the other chilled sliced pork belly.

A little pork talk

The pork belly in particular, was a very traditional way of serving pork belly in Da Nang. Known in English as simply pork roll, it’s more of the functionality of the dish itself, as the dish is different everywhere I’ve had it. But how you eat it is what gives the dish its identity. The pork belly is always sliced thin. Though sometimes it may be roasted, grilled or in its simplest form, poached. The dish is always served with a sauce, though the sauce is always different from place to place. This one was soy and fish sauce with lots of dried chili.

With the dish is served strips of green onion, garlic, mint, some vegetables and fresh thai chili. Though the garlic and chili are standard, the dish can be served with many different herbs. It is usually served with a wrapper, which is usually tissue thin rice paper, but in this case were fresh leaves of Perilla Frutescens. You slice off a piece of chili, chunk of green onion and bit of thai chili with your spoon on a small plate. You grab a leaf and with your chopsticks lay your fresh little slivers of flavor and pork belly on top. Roll it up, dip in the sauce, and down the hatch it goes.

Wait for it

As we began to enjoy dinners beginning a few bowls were brought to the table. You didn’t think we were going to get away without a dish that was something to think about. As the bowls were sat on the table large foil packets were placed on hot plates set at each end of the table. The pouches were opened for inspection so that the contents were simmering and as hot as could humanly possibly be at the table. Each pouch was poured into the bowls.

I watched in mystified captivation as what I can only describe as chicken offal egg drop soup. If you are unfamiliar with the term offal in a culinary sense, google gives a definition in part as “the entrails and internal organs of an animal used as food.” A well thickened soup base, most definitely from tapioca starch based on the consistency, hearts, kidneys, brown topped wood mushrooms, and something I’ve seen before. A hen’s entire reproductive region, including the complete chain of her eggs waiting to develop and to be laid.

I have long since grown numb to what many now give interesting comments when they see these pictures. Here it is just a standard meal. I think the real surprise to outsiders its not so much that they eat parts and things much of the world do not, but that they do it in such mass. Take balut for instance, it is always a shock for people who have not been exposed to it. The duckling folded in a fetal position waiting to hatch. Boiled until done and served with seasoned salts as street snacks. Here in Vietnam even our youngest kids love them. These things just aren’t unusual here.

The entree

We continued to pour beers, fill bowls and clank chopsticks awaiting the main course. Then, as if by magic, a beautiful platter adorned with one of those bamboo sharks I had been eyeing hit the table in front of me. Head and tail fin at one side, the length of the fish thinly sliced and shingled down the center of the platter. The tail section to one side and its liver and edible organs neatly arranged in the center. A deeply purple orchid, and a few vegetable garnishes.

Beside the shark was sat a pot on a burner. Inside the pot bubbling away was a stock seasoned with lemongrass, pineapple, tomatoes and a few vegetables. The DJ was in full swing and we began to toss the raw shark into the pot as needed. You couldn’t eat a more fresh fish. It was swimming 10 minutes ago and we were cooking as needed. The liver was what I was interested in the most. The shark was tasty, but the liver I knew would be intense and unique in flavor. It was difficult to eat. Not because of its flavor, but because it was like butter. the chopsticks slid through it like a hot knife. It’s deeply robust and intense fish taste was powerful, but not undesirable.

Winding down the night.

As the dinner continued it occured to me that I needed the WC. I tell you this now not because I often write about my trips to the bathroom, but because I found an interesting thing when I made my way in. Above the urinal in the mens room, about shoulder height, sat a pineapple o’lantern. The top half of a pineapple, interior removed and carved with a face. A tea light was lit inside and the pineapple had this strange, slightly concerned look on his face.

I stared back at the pineapple in mild guilt as he seemed to sweat in his odd predicament. His gaze was penetrating in its accusatory expression. I couldn’t help but think that he knew I had just eaten pineapple. Was it his friend, or maybe a part of himself he may want back. I finished my duties and backed my way out of the bathroom. Never taking my gaze away from the mad pineapple whose eyes were beginning to get squirrely. I met up with the table just in time to cash out and get on our motorbike and as far away from that crazy pineapple as I could possibly get.