Pig's bowel porridge

After the rush - the last few customers finish their meal at the Chao Long restaurant before it turns back into a house

There was a slight air of fun and frivolity about the office. I was the only westerner in and the only male, it was close to lunchtime and a conversation was happening in Vietnamese around me which I was not part of. Eventually someone spoke to me. “Will you have lunch today?” “No” I replied, “I don’t think so”. “Oh come on…. have lunch” I enquired what was on offer and the interest in my attendance became apparent. The proposal was to go to the Chao Long restaurant next door to the office.

I had previously declined an invitation to this establishment. It’s very popular and it only exists during lunchtimes. The rest of the time the restaurant is a gateway to a house. The ground is black with stuff left from previous days but there are no other outward signs of its lunchtime function.

By mid morning each day a glass display cabinet on wheels has appeared along with masses of small plastic tables and stools. There are even tarpaulins erected to keep the rain off. By 11.30am it is heaving with people and the entire pavement has disappeared under the seated masses all talking loudly and eating this delicacy of Vietnamese life.

I steeled myself, in a moment of weakness I’d rashly promised I’d try anything once and I’d always presumed dog would be the one which would take most effort to actually do. But there was something about pig’s intestines which was holding me back. The torment continued with ever wider grins from my colleagues “Oh just do it!” said one. OK I said with more confidence than I felt and we headed downstairs and onto the pavement.

At first it looked like there was no way we would get in – the place appeared more packed than usual. Then, miraculously we were ushered into the gateway itself and in a corner behind the glass case a small wooden table had been cleared and a collection of stools assembled. I stepped over the debris of squeezed lemons and abandoned paper towels, ducked under the plastic sheet acting as a roof and slid around on the greasy floor until I was seated with my knees under my chin. Everyone smiled. Once again I found myself the only westerner in sight and a young member of staff came over and touched me on the arm to make sure I was real.

When I mentioned this meal later both expat and Vietnamese friends were horrified – “You must not eat that dish! It is so unhealthy!” This apparently relates to the inclusion of fresh pig’s blood on the menu, something we didn’t have but which was in evidence on other tables, bright red thin liquid with lumps of white fat looking for all the world like diluted tomato ketchup and boiled tofu. The problem is that the fresh blood may contain pathogens and other nasty things so the Government has official prescribed it.

I knew none of this as I sat and watched the food arriving. The sequence of events was very similar to eating dog. First the salad of mint and other assorted leaves which you can use to wrap the….. what shall I call it? Meat? Offal? To wrap the stuff we were eating. Next the cold boiled intestine and stomach bits with slices of cold liver chunks of kidney and the strong and salty shrimp paste which gives it some flavour. Then the black-pudding-like small intestine dish, more crunchy than the dog version but not unpleasant on the palate. Finally the porridge itself, a large bowl of rice porridge with shredded dried pork on top, more leaves and other garnish I didn’t recognise. Slurping this with a spoon it soon became apparent that it was full of all the things we had already eaten, particularly the small intestine black pudding. It was surprisingly pleasant and I cleaned out my bowl.

As I looked around it was clear this place sold a lot of different delicacies from the inside of a pig and I think I was grateful not to have to try them all. We paid and walked out through the tightly packed tables, my presence still a source of interest to the cliental and staff alike. “Did you like that?” I was asked by one colleague. “Yes” I replied, but I must say I’m not in any rush to go back there. I wonder how many more obscure delicacies they have up their sleeves to keep me on my culinary toes?