Vietnam confidential: Anthony Bourdain

Anthony Bourdain writes lovingly in the FT about a happy return to Vietnam: By the temple entrance, under a tarpaulin by the water’s edge, an old woman carefully arranges two kinds of freshwater snails in bowls with crabmeat, noodles and tomatoes before ladling steaming hot pork broth over them. The smell coming off the broth is maddeningly good—and she’s doing monster business from the crowds coming out of the temple, so, even though I’m not really hungry, I can’t resist. I duck under the tarpaulin, squeeze through and scrunch down at a long, oilcloth-covered picnic table and try to find some place for my knees among a large, extended Vietnamese family... I catch the woman’s eyes, point to the person sitting next to me, already slurping down the last of his noodles, point and smile. She beams back at me. She knows what I want. You know—anywhere there are cooks, but especially in Vietnam—that when a proprietor or server smiles proudly at you like that, when locals are clamouring to get at what they’re selling, when your fellow diners’ expressions mirror your own, that good food is on the way. They do fast food just right in Vietnam. The glorious tradition of “one cook—one dish” ensures that the person making pho or spring rolls, or bun cha—or whatever they’re selling—has likely been making it, and only it, for years and years. Often the skill has passed down from a previous generation. That kind of close identification with a single dish makes almost everything an expression of family pride, local spirit, even national identity.