No wonder travelers to Vietnam fall in love with Hoi An. It is close to beaches, a gazillion times less chaotic than Saigon and Hanoi, and home to amazing, amazing food. In a previous post, I professed my love to banh mi op la, the best breakfast in Southeast Asia. Here, I'll elaborate on some noodles whose photos I still drool over.

While riding a motorbike to the beach, we stopped at a roadside noodle stand for lunch. I was so famished and ready to pounce at a table that my left leg brushed against the muffler of the motorbike. The iron-hot muffler. The scorching pain was momentary, but my leg now had a burn mark the size of a big toe. The restaurant ower sat me down, then zoomed away and back, super hero-style, with a tube of ointment. At least, I thought it was ointment. The next minute, my leg was tingling and covered with what really was minty toothpaste. In the middle of nowhere, any moisturizing gel or was better than no ointment at all.

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I have found my new breakfast obsession, and sadly, it exists only in Vietnam. Attempts to replicate it in home kitchens would fail miserably. Recently in Hoi An, Vietnam, I met up with a former culinary school instructor from New York who was working at a non-profit restaurant. Each morning we stepped out of the air-conditioned bliss of the hotel into a wave of heat, traffic noise, and repeated solicitations for “Taxi? Taxi? Motorcycle?” But the possibility of a great street food find was too enticing to pass up.

One morning we stopped by a particularly busy stall with the words “Banh Mi Op La” on the sign. Seconds later, a blaze sprang up on the stove. A cook in a snazzy fisherman’s hat gave the pan a few swivels and tossed in some salt. He repeated to the tune of 3 finished plates a minute.

My Op La arrived, a beautiful mess of runny eggs, sausage bits, onions, and tomatoes still sizzling on a thin metal plate. The baguette came on another plate, with extra slices of cucumber and enough onions to warrant a second tooth-brushing. You use the bread to sponge up the eggs and tomato, spoon some onions and meat bits on top, bite, and wait for bliss.  Banh mi op la was pure comfort food heaven, not least because it seemed so similar to huevos rancheros.

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