Back Eat & Drink » Saigon Hẻm Gems » Hẻm Gems: It's Impossible to Resist Bún Riêu Cô Yến's Crispy Fried Tofu

A few years ago, my family’s Christmas Eve tradition of making gỏi cuốn was swapped out for a special competition, one that would decisively end a longstanding rivalry: who, out of the aunts and uncles, could make the best bún riêu?

For reasons still unknown, the entirety of my mom’s side worshiped at the altar of the tomatoey, crabby soup. We were scattered from Sacramento to Pomona to New York City. But in every Dao household, the adults made bún riếu, and the children loved it. Bún riêu was one of the few dishes that united us all.

The 2014 bún rieu battle, then, was as much a cut-throat determination of skill as it was an homage to our favorite dish — an excuse to eat four versions of bún riêu in one sitting. The kitchen transformed into a crowded bún riêu laboratory. We blindly sampled, then discussed the virtues of each: which broth had the deepest flavor, perfectly harmonizing the crab and tomato? Was No. 3 too tomatoey? No. 1 too light? Which crab-egg mixture was the meatiest?

After a blind vote, my aunt’s rendition emerged victorious. I still think my mom’s should have won.

The corner where Bún Riêu Cô Yến calls home.

This summer, armed with my credentials as a veritable bún riêu critic, I ventured to as many of Saigon’s bún riêu eateries as I could. I was looking for a bowl that, per my set of personal criteria, rivaled those that I’d grown up eating. I found that many joints serve the crab-egg riêu cua in the form of a single patty; otherwise, the mixture is likely found in barely existent wisps, taking a backseat to the broth. However, the school of thought that I subscribe to dictates that the crab-egg mixture is soft and abundant — not so soft that it lacks structural integrity, but soft enough for pieces of it to disperse throughout the bowl. For me, this has always been the best part of the dish.

An open kitchen greets customers the moment they hop off their scooters.

The bún riêu at Bún Riêu Cô Yến not only aligns with my vision, but exceeds and expands it. Across from the canal in Tân Bình, one can find an outdoor theater of food prep: a bubbling vat of broth filled with crab-egg mixture, colanders of bún, bowls of tomatoes and greens, people bustling around to assemble dishes from it all. A man sat on a ledge of the eatery cutting fried tofu, which surrounded him in several heaping bowls. This family-run business has been here for 15 years.

The range of toppings and noodle choices.

The menu contains a few other options, like bánh đa, but I’ve gotten the titular crab paste vermicelli soup every time. When the bowl arrives, I add some rau sống, ớt, and mắm tôm, before mixing everything together. Along with the crab-egg mixture and tomatoes, it’s also topped with a pork blood cube, green onions, sausage, and fried tofu.

Bún riêu cua and bánh đa cua.

Upon crafting my first bite, I noticed the pale orange hue of the bún — a unique feature that hints at the richness of the broth. The flavor of tomato, and especially of crab, is so deep that I’d believe the broth functions as a dye for the noodles. It’s salty, wonderfully pungent and tastes like it’s been stewing for days.

It's slurpin' time!

But while the crab-egg mixture is similarly well-done, I was surprised that another element of the dish had managed to nudge its way into the spotlight: the fried tofu, an ingredient that’s never entered my family's recipes. Crisp on the outside and silky on the inside, it’s the ideal textural counterpart to bún riêu’s prevailing softness. I’ve rarely, if ever, had tofu that can maintain its crispiness so well within a broth; it would even be a delicious snack on its own. When I visited the place later with the Saigoneer crew, we were so obsessed with the tofu that we ordered an additional portion.

It's impossible not to fall in love with the fried tofu here.

I still love bún riêu for its islands of crab-egg mixture floating in broth — but a joy of eating, and of loving eating, is discovering new possibilities within old favorites. Cô Yến introduced me to a twist on bún riêu that stays true to my favorite parts of the dish.

Bún Riêu Cô Yến is open from 5:40am to 6pm.

Bún Riêu Cô Yến

1346 Trường Sa, Ward 3, Tân Bình District, HCMC

Print
icon

Related Articles

in Saigon Hẻm Gems

Hẻm Gems: Bánh Đa Cua Hải Phòng, a Rare Northern Treat in D10

On the way to Phú Thọ Indoor Sports Stadium in District 11, make a turn off 666/74 Ba Tháng Hai, go all the way to the far corner, and you’ll discover Triển Chiêu Quán’s bright yellow sign. Park under...

Khoi Pham

in Saigon Hẻm Gems

Hẻm Gems: Conquering the Giant Bánh Canh Ghẹ Muối Ớt Xanh of D10

My uncle used to say that you haven't had real crab until you have to cook and dismantle one. For this week’s Hẻm Gem, Saigoneer takes you on a trip to do just that, relishing real crabs by break...

in Saigon Hẻm Gems

Hẻm Gems: Hủ Tíu Mực Ông Già's Squid Game Is to Die For

It’s safe to say that one of the most authentic culinary experiences one could have in Vietnam is to sit on a stool, in an eatery that feels very much like someone’s house, and slurp on a bowl of pipi...

Khôi Phạm

in Saigon Hẻm Gems

Hẻm Gems: The 40-Year-Old Phở Gà in Kỳ Đồng, Now Michelin-Approved

If you’re ever lost in District 3, Kỳ Đồng’s famous phở gà place will be the oasis you need in those trying times.

in Saigon Hẻm Gems

Hẻm Gems: At Bún Thang 50, Unexpected Hanoi Flavors in a Phú Nhuận Corner

When I was growing up in California, every couple of months, plastic containers of sliced fried egg, chicken, and chả lụa would line the kitchen counter. This medley of ingredients would usually mean ...

in Saigon Hẻm Gems

Hẻm Gems: Bánh Canh Hẹ Is Phú Yên's Homage to Chives and the Sea

Ever since I was a kid, I have had a general dislike towards vegetables, but green onion has always been an exception. I regard green onion as a garnish that can lighten up the whole dish, and it seem...

Partner Content