In The Mood For Love…and Japanese Food

Ramen and romance in Hanoi

As eaters, above all else, we crave what we aren’t eating. After traveling in Vietnam for more than three weeks, and filling our bellies with flavorful Vietnamese staples, I was officially in the mood for something other than Vietnamese food. After a very unscientific process of scouring the NYT food blog archives, and cross-referencing with google maps which recommended restaurants were still open all these years later, we landed on Tadioto. This restaurant was opened by a former NPR reporter who transplanted to Hanoi many years ago, and the result is a literary and culinary mecca. A pilgrimage I recommend for any fresh fish-loving foodies that also love to read. The ambiance is akin to the literary salons of yesteryear. A step back in time to before these digital days when writers would congregate and share their latest works in progress. A time when people read and wrote on paper, and shared their stories over strong and imaginative cocktails. A place where you can enjoy a sip and a cigarette and sashimi all at once. Now, asthma and allergies prevent me from smoking cigarettes, but I fully appreciated them at that moment. It’s an atmosphere amplified by smoke, I’d be offended if cigarettes weren’t a part of the artful decor. 

The menu was made for bookworms, and I was a hungry, hungry caterpillar ready for more. They were handmade on thick, pulpy paper, each page beginning with a clever and witty story that draws you in. My drink, a London Fog the way I like my London Fogs. No processed lemonade, only freshly squeezed juice, Earl Gray simple syrup, Vietnamese gin, and egg white served with a sprig of lavender, a lovely floral touch to complement the lemony aroma of the beverage. As our first course of fresh sashimi arrived, we were served a small glass of rice wine. Rice wine is ubiquitous throughout Vietnam, and most of the rice wine we tasted was sour and toxic tasting. This, however, was green rice wine from the rice paddies of Sapa. Made with green rice, it introduced a soft and fruity taste, as if a whisper of coconut was infused in each batch. However, rice wine, like all wines, is made from a simple fermentation process. No flavors were added, and the fruity nut taste I was picking up was just a result of what happens when you ferment green rice from fresh soil. It was the essence of the land, perfectly bottled. As a result, the subtle sweetness of the rice is preserved in the fermentation process. It was divine, and we ended up purchasing a bottle for the night. 

The sashimi was fresh and clean tasting, just like you want it to be, no soy sauce needed to mask a fishy taste. After sashimi, we savored umami-rich ramen, a filling and satisfying end to the meal. The meal itself was very simple, and that’s what made it so memorable. A meal is not great because of the food, it’s about the people at the table who you are sharing it with that makes the meal great. It was a night of romance. A candlelit dinner, cooling sashimi paired with savory ramen on a hot Vietnamese summer night. With delicious cocktails and green rice wine flowing, we were two lovers hidden behind the veil of wafting cigarette smoke, savoring each other’s company.

The restaurant manager recommended a wine bar inspired by Wong Kar-wai’s cinematically delicious movie, In The Mood for Love. A hard-to-find bar at the end of a dimly, purple-lit ally, Wong Bar Wine awaited us. Floor-to-ceiling soft, pink, satin drapes adorned the walls of Wong Bar Wine, an intimate space able to seat no more than ten patrons. As a new bar, the owner was there and served us our wine. A fittingly French man with a relaxed demeanor. He served us some tastes of cheese and pâté, and we enjoyed the wine and conversation as In The Mood for Love played on a vintage TV in the corner.

It was our last night in Hanoi, and our time in Vietnam was coming to an end. It was a perfectly romantic ending to a perfectly romantic night.