There’s a commonly acknowledged nugget of folk wisdom amongst foodies that hole-in-the-wall eateries almost always have the best food. In the context of Vietnam’s street food landscape, this concept could extend to cart on the pavement, table in the hẻm, coffee on a bike, and even wackier contexts. The star of today’s Hẻm Gems feature, however, is a true-blue hole-in-the-wall, both in physical manifestation and in spirits.

As an avid bánh canh enthusiast, I have long wondered about the mysterious bánh canh Nam Phổ, Huế’s contribution to the country’s pantheon of noodle royalties. There’s something about that intense shade of orange dominating the broth that contributes to the air of enigma, coupled with the fact that it’s very rarely seen or talked about in Saigon. It’s almost comical for me to have constructed this myth surrounding this dish just to finally arrive in Huế this summer and see that bánh canh Nam Phổ is everywhere.

At a corner of Phó Đức Chính Street, just a short walk from the Huế University of Education, Quán Hằng peeks out in between wedding parlors, groceries shops, and a particularly smokey cơm bình dân place grilling meat on the street. It’s just past 4pm on a Saturday, so the city center is perhaps still unwinding from its afternoon nap to sleep away the stuffy heat. The streets barely have anyone out and about. It’s the perfect occasion for me to stay ahead of the crowd and make a beeline for Quán Hằng before the limited seating capacity is filled up.

It's so crispy I'm gonna die!

Arriving at Quán Hằng, the first things that will capture your attention are several giant bags of crispy pork cracklings and fried shallots perched atop the glass display. Conventionally, these are to be sprinkled as garnish on bánh bèo nậm lọc, but to me those scream party-sized snack bags. It turns out I’m not the only person with this idea, because our photographer ends up buying one whole bag of pork crackling during his visit as a travel gift for the team. He knows us too well.

Quán Hằng fits the hole-in-the-wall stereotype to a tee: while-tiled walls, plastic tables and stools, a Coca-Cola-brand glass fridge repurposed for ingredient storage, and staff comprised entirely of family members. Inside the tiny dining space behind the prep station, there are four sets of tables, each can fit a group of three snugly or four uncomfortably. Usually, with just one person assembling the food at Quán Hằng, hopeful patrons might have to wait for a little while for a table.

Quán Hằng is a family business, so on any given day, one can be served by different members of the family.

There are only two things on the menu here: bánh canh Nam Phổ and bánh bèo nậm lọc, both at VND20,000 a portion, extremely affordable snacks compared to the galloping inflation rates in Saigon. After we make our order and settle down at a table to kill time, delivery drivers and locals on bikes start popping up one after another, ferrying away big bags of bánh canh and bánh bèo — a reassuring sign that the food is excellent. Ah, Huế has woken up from its siesta and is now hankering for something to ăn xế.

Our plates of bánh bèo nậm lọc land on the table first, of course, with a generous sprinkle of fried shallots and pork cracklings. All three are made from rice flour batter and steamed; the latter two are wrapped in leaves while bánh bèo are in tiny shallow dishes. Delicate is the one adjective I would use to describe these little morsels of silky bánh. Each bánh bèo is spread thinner than typically seen in Saigon, but holds its shape surprisingly well. Bánh nậm and bánh lọc are both soft in texture and light in taste, allowing the subtly sweet nước mắm to seep in, perfuming every bite. While they have fierce competition in Huế, where making bèo nậm lọc is a municipal sport, these exceed any version I’ve had in Saigon by a wide margin.

Bánh nậm lọc (left) and bánh bèo (right).

Bánh canh Nam Phổ arrives on our table in small bowls, filled to the brim with a viscous orange sauce that encases nubs of meatballs and bits of bánh canh noodles. Everything is petite and snack-sized. According to Huế conventions, this noodle dish is almost always enjoyed in the late afternoon. Firstly, because cooks need to source the freshest seafood in the morning; and secondly, because it’s just meant to be a little bite before the proper dinner later.

Bánh canh Nam Phổ has shorter strands and a thicker broth compared to other versions.

Like most Vietnamese delicacies with a geographical location in the name, bánh canh Nam Phổ is believed to have originated from a real place: Nam Phổ, a village northeast of the Imperial City that’s now part of Phú Vang District. If most typical bánh canh noodles are prized for their distinctive chew thanks to a high percentage of tapioca flour, the noodles in bánh canh Nam Phổ are often made with a mix of rice and tapioca flours with a heavy lean on the latter, resulting in a supple texture. When cooked alongside the broth, chunks of noodles break off, so the dish is commonly eaten using a spoon instead of chopsticks. The meatballs are made of a combination of pork and shrimp meats, cooked in a ruốc Huế-based broth (shrimp paste). To get that distinctive shade of orange, Huế residents blend in crab and shrimp tomalley, or annatto oil.

The chili fish sauce adds an edge to an otherwise-mellow noodles soup.

After just a few spoonfuls of bánh canh at Quán Hằng, I realize why this is the perfect post-nap snack. It is umami and hearty, no doubt, but it’s also incredibly easy to eat compared to other noodle dishes: everything is soft and scoopable and there is no need to wrangle with pork hock, pick vegetables, or manage big chunks of topping. It is a child-safe treat, but children won’t be able to fully appreciate the full range of bánh canh Nam Phổ’s flavors, because they can’t eat the chilies. These are thinly sliced, bright green chilies mixed with fish sauce, readily available on the table. I’m already convinced by just the bánh canh, but upon spooning a few slices of chilies on top, I’m surprised by how much their citrusy bright heat brings to the table. They are like light sabers cutting right through the viscosity of the noodle broth, lifting everything up. For me, the chilies have become a must when having bánh canh Nam Phổ, even though I’m not generally a fan of spiciness.

Tiny eatery, big bags of pork cracklings.

It’s easy to romanticize travel destinations. You’re in vacation mode, untethered from the tendrils of work and life obligations, so everything tastes great and everybody you meet seems extraordinarily wise and lovely. There’s a possibility that I’m romanticizing the magic of Quán Hằng’s bánh canh Nam Phổ and Huế residents would scoff at my naivety, but you have to be there. The weather is not sweltering for the first time. The neighborhood is quaint. At a tiny table looking out into the street, I sit with my bowl of bánh canh, hands warm from hugging the bowl and mouth stinging from spicy chilies. You have to be there.

To sum up:

•     Opening time: 6am–8pm
•     Parking: Bike only
•     Contact: 0702 151 869
•     Average cost per person: $ (Under VND100,000)
•     Payment: Cash, Transfer
•     Delivery App: N/A