Hoi An beyond the ‘banh mi'

Mint

12-07-2025

It's only 6pm, and we've started thinking about dinner. The scenes give in as we stroll past food stalls and coffee shops bustling with locals and tourists alike, devouring soupy noodle bowls and fried snacks cooked over charcoal fires.
We are in Hoi An, a Unesco World Heritage site in central Vietnam, where you don't really need an excuse to eat. We skip the boutique stores and tailoring shops, and plonk ourselves on plastic stools to eat com ga, the ubiquitous chicken rice, and also a Hoi An speciality.
Com ga is everywhere in this ancient town, admired for its architectural splendour, and cultural vibe. Inside hidden alleyways, and behind designer stores, frantic vendors plate up this beloved staple by the clock. A close cousin of the Hainanese chicken rice, it's a true flavour bomb packed with umami from a nuoc cham dipping sauce, and an equally addictive sweet chilli pickle (that I end up scouring the local markets for in the following days to take back home). At Com Ga Ba Lam, a streetside vendor located in the old town, we find the best chicken rice, and make plans to return to the country some day just to eat it.
But no trip to Hoi An is complete without eating cao lau, a dish that is deeply tied to the foodways of the port town. Chewy, flat noodles served with generous slices of char siu-style pork, bean sprouts and herbs soaked in a flavourful broth, and crispy rice crackers and croutons on the side, it makes for a hearty meal. Some believe the dish was introduced by Chinese traders, when they docked at the port in the 17th century, while the udon-like noodles could be a Japanese influence. Traditionally, they are made of rice that has been soaked in lye/ash water from the nearby Cham Islands. Morning Glory, a restaurant known for offering classic Vietnamese cuisine in a refined setting, with promising views of the iconic Japanese bridge, does an excellent cao lau apt for sharing (only if you wish).
Of course there is the beloved banh mi, an overloaded sandwich of grilled meat and pickled veggies, smeared with pâté inside an airy, light baguette—a classic imprint of the French colonial influence. One is spoilt for choice with a dozen banh mi stalls here, but sample the iconic staple at Banh Mi Phuong that comes with the late American chef Anthony Bourdain's stamp of approval.
Evenings are chaotic in Hoi An with vendors invading the streets, and the Thu Bon riverside, selling all sorts of delicious things: sweet doughy rice balls, wafer-thin black sesame crackers, banana pancakes drizzled with condensed milk, fried quail eggs, and crispy banh xeo or crepes with shrimp and pork. At Thuan Y opposite the river, we settle for grilled pork skewers that come with a pile of fresh greens, and stacks of rice paper and a delicious nuoc cham. We quietly assemble it under the watchful eyes of the matriarch handling the orders by filling the rice paper with meat and greens, followed by rolling it up, and finally dipping it in the sauce before every bite.
On our last day in Hoi An, we choose Rêu, an upscale restaurant on the outskirts of the town with picturesque views of the rice fields and tranquil countryside. The space is striking with lush bougainvillea invading its bright yellow facade. The chef, we are told, offers a modern spin on Vietnamese cuisine, and cooks with fresh greens and seafood sourced from the farms and coast nearby. The salad truly tastes of the terroir, and the fried wontons pack a punch when eaten with a house-made plum sauce. But, it's the mi quang, a speciality of flat rice noodles, topped with meat, vegetables and peanuts, served with a wondrous dipping sauce that we cannot get enough of.
Later that evening, we headed back to Com Ga Ba Lam for one last plate of chicken rice, only to find the staff packing up for the day.