The day I arrived in Quy Nhon, this already supremely chilled out seaside town was in the process of shutting down for the New Year celebrations, meaning that the vibe was so laid-back it was almost horizontal. Almost nothing was open, nearly everyone was at home with the family, and one's options for eating and drinking were severely limited. So thank god that, as I arrived in town on the back of a motorbike taxi, I glimpsed the Kim Dinh through the palm trees on the seafront.

Though nothing more than an open-front unit with chairs and tables on the pavement out the front, something about the place immediately appealed to me, and sure enough, it became my default hangout for the duration of my stay in Quy Nhon.

Like all the best cafes in Vietnam, the Kim Dinh does not make a song and dance over its operation. The only things sold here are coffee, tea, sinh to, and the classic central-coast region snack, banh beo. All of which were done to perfection.

The banh beo, above, came bathed in a unctuous, vinegary (in a good way) sauce, which worked wonderfully with the glutinous chewy texture of the pancakes. Great with an iced coffee, but even better with the Kim Dinh's signature sinh to, which, like the amazing sinh to that made up The Best Breakfast of my Life, was a combination of fruits rather than just one or two, including avocados, papayas, and dragon fruit, among others.

What took this sinh to to even greater heights, however, was that the fruits were not blended as is usual with sinh to, but arrived at my table roughly chopped, along with crushed ice and - oh my - a generous dollop of condensed milk.

The photo above is of the many glasses of the fruit, minus the ice and milk, which the Kim Dinh staff prepare in advance for when there's a rush of customers (because almost EVERYONE orders the sinh to). The opening photo is of after the whole lot has been mixed together into a delicious mess and is waiting patiently for me to devour it.

Just the thing before a stroll along the seafront at sunset.

Kim Dinh
18a Nguyen Hue,
Quy Nhon,
Vietnam.

Banana lady.

Passion fruits, I think.

Three varieties of limes.

Chilli powders.

Unknown green vegetable or fruit.

Mushrooms and garlic.

Red shallots.

Coconut lady.

All from a sunny morning in Hue, Vietnam, February 2010.

The boat cuts through the calm water like a knife, sending symmetrical ripples out towards the trees that line the narrow canal. Above me, the rotund coconut fruits are gathered in crowded clusters, the palm fronds cast lazy shadows, and the sun shines hot on my back. I am blissfully happy, and can't think of anywhere I would rather be.

This was the scene when, almost exactly 3 months ago, I went on a boat tour of the the Mekong Delta in Ben Tre Province, Vietnam. It was probably one of the best things I did in Vietnam, because not only was I the only passenger, but also because my wonderful guide (and fellow durian-lover) Dai at my request made the tour as food-oriented as possible.

The day was punctuated by many little snacks of tropical fruit, including my first taste of milk fruit, but it was coconut that was the real star of the show. In Vietnam, Ben Tre Province is famous as 'the island of coconuts', and it seems as if the whole local economy revolves around these trees and their many products.

Something that surprised and impressed me was how much of the tree is used. The fronds are used for roofs, the husks are used for firewood (more on this in the near future), and the fruit, of course, is used for food - coconut oil, coconut milk, coconut cream, shredded fresh coconut, and the famous Ben Tre coconut candy.

Like most of the boat tours of the Mekong Delta, mine included a trip to one of the local workshops that make this candy, and though it was of course a bit of a tourist trap, by the time Dai and I rocked up (sleepy mid-afternoon) we were the only visitors. Dai happily explained to me in great detail the process involved in making the candy, most of which, sadly, I've now totally forgotten, but I did manage to take a few good photos of it: here is the lava-like, pre-cut (peanut variety) candy...

...here the simple but effective contraption used to tease said lava into neat squares...

...and here, the finished product itself.

But though the candy factory was undoubtedly interesting, my favourite coconut moment of the day came when we were out on the boat, meandering through the countless, tranquil waterways that crisscross the land, and I saw this:

This is, Dai told me, the fruit of the water coconut, which is not harvested commercially. I've tried verifying this info via Google but with no luck, except for this photo, whose Vietnamese caption I put through an online translator with hilarious results ('Coconut water, broken, collecting firewood, food such as jelly dua. Neu Bui bui quazzzz pale, slightly more for the road. Jueju delicious cat' - Kent, if you're reading this, can you shed any light???).

Anyway, the fruit of the water coconut actually bares very little fruit as it turned out. After hacking it off its stalk with some difficulty, Dai separated each of the spiky kernels one-by-one from the rest. He then decided, by eye and weight, which ones were likely to contain any fruit (the smaller, lighter ones were discarded), and those deemed worthy were sliced in half...

...to reveal this:

That little translucent white thing in there is about the size of a quail's egg and is the only edible part of the whole pod (no wonder they're not grown commercially). Taste wise it hinted rather than screamed its membership of the coconut family, and textually was an intriguing blend of glutinous and rubbery - like a cross between jelly and mochi. I wasn't an instant convert, I have to admit, but the novelty of eating something that you can't really buy, and not 10 meters away from where it had until just now been growing, was pretty cool.

And here's the man who made it all happen! Huge thanks to Dai for a truly memorable day, and look out for more tales from Vietnam in the coming weeks...

Snack food in Vietnam...what can I say? Words cannot describe how good it is. Available everywhere, at almost every time of the day...I never went hungry. Ever.

It almost seemed that the snacks I ate in Vietnam were trying to outdo each other in deliciousness, having themselves a little competition of Vietnamese snacks. So, I hereby present to you the competitors in this epic battle; I never decided which one I loved the most, so will let you decide for yourselves who should be the winner.

Though the north and Hanoi were of course also excellent snack purveyors, the competition really started to hot up once I got to Hue, the old imperial capital on the central coast. Here, as I explored the morning market, I came across a lady with a bamboo pole - at one end of which was a kind of cabinet:

and at the other, a kind of bucket.

Immediately my curiosity was peaked - what could she possibly be selling? - so I hung around to see the product - which, it turned out, was tofu. First, the bucket lid was lifted,

and then the vendor would carefully scoop out flat slices of the fresh beancurd into an awaiting bowl.

Then, from the cabinet, a quarter of lime was produced, and a spoonful of sugar, the two would be stirred into the tofu...and that was it. So, so simple, but I cannot begin to overstate how wonderful this snack was - sweet, sour and beautifully calming on a morning stomach. I lapped up every slippery morsel.

After Hue, the next stop on my snack tour of Vietnam was Hoian, which provided the next two competitors in the battle. First was the snack you see in the opening photo and above - banh beo, small steamed rice pancakes, with a variety of toppings.

This particular banh beo was accompanied by an orange, tomato-y sauce, fried shallots in oil, chilies, and some more mysterious crispy things. Sooooooo good, and with wonderfully contrasting textures. And a friendly vendor.

The second wonderful snack I ate in Hoian was along the riverfront - an area filled with expensive restaurants and boutiques, and so not a place where you'd expect great streetfood. Nonetheless, among the delights on offer here were BBQ corn, cau lau, and this lady and her stall:

who served up this:

I have to say I'm rather proud of this shot - the colours, I think, are particularly gorgeous. As the sign says, this was simply a sweet black sesame soup - but my, how moreish it was. So moreish, in fact, I almost had a second bowl, a decision against which I am still regretting.

Finally, the seaside town of Quy Nhon provides the last two contenders in this battle of the snacks. Again, as I wandered the morning market, I sampled two fantastic breakfast-time snacks - the first, another example of banh bot loc,

served at a stall which also had lovely looking banh beo,

but which I achewed in favour of this:

banh khot, more rice pancakes, this time fried in a special pan rather like that for poaching eggs, and served with a simple chilli sauce. Again, great texture, and great for a sore stomach.

So, what do you think? Who will triumph in the Vietnam Battle of the Snacks?

This is the fifth and final installment of my monthly column in Chengdoo Citylife Magazine, 'Your Chuancai Cupboard'. This month: Vinegar.

Vinegar, 醋， is among the most important condiments in Chinese cooking. One of the so-called ‘Seven Essentials’ of the traditional Chinese kitchen (along with firewood, rice, oil, salt, soy sauce and tea), vinegar’s importance in Chinese culture even extends to the language – in Mandarin, ‘to eat vinegar’， 吃醋， means to be jealous of somebody or something.

Vinegar is said to have been invented in China during the Xia Dynasty in around 2000 BC, and has been commercially produced from as early as the 1st century AD. It is particularly prized for its sourness (one of the four essential tastes, along with salty, sweet and bitter), and it is also widely used in Traditional Chinese Medicine for the treatment of all manner of ailments, from high blood pressure to athlete’s foot; TCM practitioners use vinegar to promote warm (yang) energy, and it is said to be particularly effectively when eaten in autumn.

Though commonly referred to as rice vinegar, Chinese vinegars are in fact usually made from a combination of ingredients that often includes rice (both white and black), but may also utilize wheat, millet, and sorghum. The color of Chinese vinegars ranges widely, from clear to inky black, and so too does the taste, from strongly acidic to smoky and mild.

Sichuan is one of China’s four most famous producers of vinegar; the other three are Zhejiang, Shanxi, and Fujian. Sichuan’s capital of vinegar production is Langzhong, in the northeast of the province, where, unique among Chinese vinegars, bran is the primary ingredient.

Baoning vinegar is the most famous and widely used brand made in Langzhong, but others do exist – I particularly like that made by the Langzhou 朗州 company, which is sweeter than the Baoning variety. At the Langzhou Vinegar Company, the traditional method of production is still in use, and goes as follows.

First, rice and dried corn kernels are steamed, and then are added to a mixture of bran and over 60 traditional Chinese medicines and herbs. This mixture is then left to ferment in sealed containers for up to 60 days, then is mixed with spring water and seeped for 2 to 3 days. Finally, the liquid is strained, boiled, bottled and is thus ready for use.

Though not as commonly used in Sichuan’s cuisine as in other parts of China, vinegar is nonetheless an indispensable part of the Sichuanese kitchen. Black vinegar is more commonly used than white vinegar, but the latter does feature particularly in cold dishes. Black vinegar can be bought at dried good stalls at markets, while supermarkets usually stock a wide variety of many different types. Outside of China, Chinkiang vinegar, widely available in Oriental supermarkets, is an acceptable substitute.

Perhaps the most famous Sichuanese dish that uses vinegar is the ridiculously easy Tiger-Skin Peppers， 虎皮请教， pictured above. Below is a recipe I’ve adapted from Fuchsia Dunlop’s Sichuan Cookery; the size of green pepper you use for this dish can vary – if you like it spicy, go for the long, thin ones; if not, go for a larger variety.

Tiger-Skin Peppers 虎皮请教

4 green peppers (capsicum)
Cooking oil
1-2 tablespoons black vinegar
1/2 teaspoon sugar
Salt to taste

1. If using large green peppers, quarter and discard the seeds and stems. If using the small kind, just squash slightly with the side of your cleaver. Mix the sugar and salt into the vinegar until they are completely dissolved.
2. Heat about 2 tablespoons of oil in a wok until smoking, and then add the peppers. Stir-fry over a medium heat for 5-6 minutes, or until the peppers are tender and their skins blistered and streaky.
3. Finally, remove the peppers to a serving dish, drizzle with the vinegar mixture and serve.