Discover Saigon’s Best Street Food From the Back of a Scooter

Growing up, my mom implemented just two major rules: no motorcycles and no tattoos. Until the age of 29, I had obeyed both of these boundaries, but the motorcycle one seemed like a deal-breaker at this point. After all, I had just landed in Vietnam, and as Bourdain famously said, the only way to experience Hanoi is on a scooter.

While I was going to Saigon, not Hanoi, I felt that his point was still valid. Regardless, whenever I asked anyone for suggestions on what a tourist should do while there, one thing came up again and again: XO Tours, a motorbike tour through the city involving stops for street food along the way.

But as my trip approached, my itinerary was sparse, and I became increasingly nervous. How would I eat what locals eat? Sure, I’d be getting pho and banh mi, but where were the best snails, and bottom line, could someone please show me foods that I never knew existed? XO Tours turned out to be my ticket to all of that and more. 

I felt that familiar rush of excitement the moment my guide, a young woman named Han, greeted me with a wave outside my hotel, the Ramada Encore by Wyndham in District One. She told me to get on the back of her white Vespa, and as we cannonballed through traffic, I held onto the back for dear life but couldn’t help grinning. It seemed like being on a scooter in the city unlocked a whole other dimension (and this may be true in all cities, though I haven’t tried scootering them all yet). I was able to appreciate the sights — whole families piled on scooters, packages dangling dangerously from the back, helmet fashion, and even dogs balancing by their owners' feet. 

It started out with soup, importantly, not pho. Instead, we had Bún Bò Huế. The bowl was massive, and even though we had at least three more food stops, I slurped down the entire mixture of spicy rice noodles and sliced beef, savoring each refreshing bite as the added lemongrass hit my tastebuds.   

Before I could properly wipe my mouth, we sped off again, this time to a market in Chinatown, one of the largest wet markets in the country. Everything was out on the street, there were carts filled with fruits, blankets covered with fish, and live animals being sold to be slaughtered. Our next stop was appropriately for a barbecue. 

Tableside, we grilled up goat breast while the very same goat hung from the rafters at the end of our table, being picked apart by the in-restaurant butcher. This was, I was told, to prove that it was a goat (a more expensive animal) and not a pig. Dipped in a garlic sauce, the goat tasted more or less like beef, and the spring onions and peanuts we gobbled down in between waiting for pieces to come off the charcoal paired perfectly with the (unlimited) beer.  

Next was a seafood stop, where we saw scallops shucked and then grilled before being smothered in nuts and sizzling scallion oil. Crab legs were cracked open at the table, and there was even an embryonic duck egg, which I was instructed to eat like a soft-boiled egg, cracking it at the top, then scooping out the innards. “I don’t look at it when I eat it,” my guide said, but I couldn’t help but stare. 

Through it all, I white-knuckled the back of the scooter around twists and turns, roundabouts and alleyways, as we sped past neon signs and billows of smoke from carts filled with delicacies. There was, ever so thankfully, unlimited beer (included), which I slugged in order to keep up with the beads of sweat dripping from my chin to my thighs, thanks to the combination of the 100% humidity and my full belly.

Altogether, the tour was a magical one. It didn’t even really feel like a tour. Maybe all tours should be on the backs of scooters. And if you’re still worried about my mom, don’t be. I sent her a video of me on the scooter with a text that read, “Don’t worry, I’m wearing a helmet.”