I Only Have Eyes for Sweet, Sticky Banana Fritters
I Only Have Eyes for Sweet, Sticky Banana Fritters
Banana fritters in Hoi An
On our first trip to Vietnam, my friend and I found slices of India everywhere. A popular Hindi TV show played on tiny screens in markets, hosts shared notes about their favorite Bollywood movies, and we had in-depth discussions about why Indians don’t win global beauty pageants anymore.
At the end of our 10-day trip, we chanced upon a fried street snack that satiated our craving for home food. The banana fritters (chuối chiên) were as brown as our skin, and as sweet as they were cheap.
The golden-brown banana fritter was sticky, speckled with sesame seeds, crispy on the outside and oozing with sweetness on the inside. It was the perfect morning treat, a sweeter version of the fried snacks we eat on Mumbai’s crowded streets when we need a quick and filling meal.
We discovered it, much like the best things in life, by accident. It was our last day in Hoi An, a heritage town of cobbled paths, ancient shopfronts, and lanterns swaying in the wind. We had guzzled cheap beer, munched on grilled meat on the streets, and loaded up on cheap trinkets at the night market. We were on the hunt for an authentic eating experience.
A crowd led us to it.
They were gathered around a small cart, so we went to investigate. People were engrossed in watching something. A closer look revealed a food cart, the people around it brimming with desire.
We heard the sound first; the heavy sizzle that signifies something has been dunked into a pan full of hot oil. It soon relapsed into a melody of crackles and hissing. A young woman stood behind the cart peeling bananas and slicing them into perfect halves. The bananas, swaying in the wind above her head, were no ordinary ones, but small and stubby (called chuoi su or chuoi xiem). She dunked these slices into a mixture of rice flour, sugar, salt, and water, before popping them into a pan of oil. When a slice turned golden brown, she held it aloft for a few seconds before placing it on a stand.
There were also plates of crab fritters and sweet buns filled with mung bean and coconut, but we only had eyes for that sticky sweet snack. Money exchanged hands and then we were holding them in our hands, a flimsy tissue protecting us from the heat. We were soon busy munching on the fritter, savoring the ensuing sugar rush. It was a high that lasted until lunchtime, and was more intoxicating than the local beer.