The Bia Hoi - from 16th July
Bia Hoi are found all over Hanoi, we’ve been to a few big ones which can easily seat over 100 customers and have extensive menus and the smallest I’ve seen comprised three guys squatting on the pavement around a small plastic stool with a tray of four glasses, a cloth, a bag of nuts and a single ten litre keg of this freshly brewed, light and refreshing drink, which translates as fresh beer.
Sunday evening I’d cooked tea, Mike was not due back for a while and Derek said “I fancy a beer”. I concurred so we strolled out into the street and wandered down to a small establishment we pass most days, maybe the local equivalent of the Rovers Return.
This place is a room about 3 metres square which opens onto the street. Last Thursday evening, as I cycled past in the storm, flood water was lapping on the top step and the bow wave from passing motor bikes was sending small tsunamis running the length of the room. Tonight it was dry and there were just three locals and the owner sitting at one of the three tables. Just inside the doorway there’s a large, shiny, insulated steel cabinet which houses the small wooden kegs of beer and the large blocks of ice which keep them cool. The current keg is attached to a single tap which protrudes from the side of the cabinet just above ground level. A plastic slops bowl sits below the tap beside a bowl of water where the barman rinses used glasses before returning them to the plastic storage tray on top of the cabinet.
We walked in, were looked up and down and given two glasses of frothy beer by the now smiling landlord. As we picked up our glasses he produced his own and clinked glasses with us to a chorus of what sounds like “chocks away” but is actually Vietnamese for cheers. The three guys joined in the toast. We sat and watched the brisk takeaway business as people arrived with an assortment of containers which were carefully filled. If it was a litre bottle filling was straight from the tap, if the volume of the container was unknown then an empty glass was borrowed from one of the barflies and the golden nectar measured out in glass fulls. The barfly would then get his glass back refilled. The departing plastic bottles did remind me of industrial size urine samples!
As we settled into our second glass we were asked where we were from (no, we’re not Germans) and Derek successfully purchased a single cigarette for a few pence. We were now thoroughly integrated and Derek was admiring banana leaf wrapped pork sausages whilst saying he didn’t eat meat. For such a small operation the selection of bar snacks was impressive. The usual foul tasting monkey nuts were supplemented by the sausages and what turned out to be dried fish hanging like pork scratchings in a bag on the wall. We watched as the owner skilfully laid pieces of what looked like Bombay duck which had been under a steam roller into a small grilling frame before… dropping it on the floor. He picked it up, dusted it down, put it back in the frame and burned it black over paraffin ignited in a rice bowl. We decided to try some, much to his surprise and approval. The fish duly arrived hot and hard with some chilli sauce just as Mike strode in. The pub was now crowded, all three tables had three or four patrons and an additional table had been set up outside. Odd words of English were being produced by our Vietnamese drinking friends along with loud demonstrations of how to pronounce Vietnamese words correctly. The pub pipe was out and various customers were taking it in turns to fill it with tobacco and smoke. Actually, looking at the colour of the smoke they could have been filling it with twigs and dried leaves or even shreds of rubber tyre.
We finished pulling our teeth out on the leather like fish, had a couple more beers – ten between the three of us and then headed home. As we left the landlord shook hands with each of us, like we had been friends for years. Our extravagant evening had cost just over £1.50.
As I walked home past the Bia Hoi the next night I was greeted by a chorus of cheers, smiling faces and waving arms. I waved back and declined the invitation to join the throng, but I suspect we will go back there again.
Sunday evening I’d cooked tea, Mike was not due back for a while and Derek said “I fancy a beer”. I concurred so we strolled out into the street and wandered down to a small establishment we pass most days, maybe the local equivalent of the Rovers Return.
This place is a room about 3 metres square which opens onto the street. Last Thursday evening, as I cycled past in the storm, flood water was lapping on the top step and the bow wave from passing motor bikes was sending small tsunamis running the length of the room. Tonight it was dry and there were just three locals and the owner sitting at one of the three tables. Just inside the doorway there’s a large, shiny, insulated steel cabinet which houses the small wooden kegs of beer and the large blocks of ice which keep them cool. The current keg is attached to a single tap which protrudes from the side of the cabinet just above ground level. A plastic slops bowl sits below the tap beside a bowl of water where the barman rinses used glasses before returning them to the plastic storage tray on top of the cabinet.
We walked in, were looked up and down and given two glasses of frothy beer by the now smiling landlord. As we picked up our glasses he produced his own and clinked glasses with us to a chorus of what sounds like “chocks away” but is actually Vietnamese for cheers. The three guys joined in the toast. We sat and watched the brisk takeaway business as people arrived with an assortment of containers which were carefully filled. If it was a litre bottle filling was straight from the tap, if the volume of the container was unknown then an empty glass was borrowed from one of the barflies and the golden nectar measured out in glass fulls. The barfly would then get his glass back refilled. The departing plastic bottles did remind me of industrial size urine samples!
As we settled into our second glass we were asked where we were from (no, we’re not Germans) and Derek successfully purchased a single cigarette for a few pence. We were now thoroughly integrated and Derek was admiring banana leaf wrapped pork sausages whilst saying he didn’t eat meat. For such a small operation the selection of bar snacks was impressive. The usual foul tasting monkey nuts were supplemented by the sausages and what turned out to be dried fish hanging like pork scratchings in a bag on the wall. We watched as the owner skilfully laid pieces of what looked like Bombay duck which had been under a steam roller into a small grilling frame before… dropping it on the floor. He picked it up, dusted it down, put it back in the frame and burned it black over paraffin ignited in a rice bowl. We decided to try some, much to his surprise and approval. The fish duly arrived hot and hard with some chilli sauce just as Mike strode in. The pub was now crowded, all three tables had three or four patrons and an additional table had been set up outside. Odd words of English were being produced by our Vietnamese drinking friends along with loud demonstrations of how to pronounce Vietnamese words correctly. The pub pipe was out and various customers were taking it in turns to fill it with tobacco and smoke. Actually, looking at the colour of the smoke they could have been filling it with twigs and dried leaves or even shreds of rubber tyre.
We finished pulling our teeth out on the leather like fish, had a couple more beers – ten between the three of us and then headed home. As we left the landlord shook hands with each of us, like we had been friends for years. Our extravagant evening had cost just over £1.50.
As I walked home past the Bia Hoi the next night I was greeted by a chorus of cheers, smiling faces and waving arms. I waved back and declined the invitation to join the throng, but I suspect we will go back there again.
posted by Marvin.. at Tuesday, July 25, 2006
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