Marianne Smallwood catches a Hanoi-style caffeine buzz ~ 周末读书天 My Weekend with Books

Café Mai on Nguyen Du
图片取自 TNH Vietnam

Marianne Smallwood catches a Hanoi-style caffeine buzz

Driving down Nguyen Du Street, I pull up to Café Mai and hand my shinny blue bicycle over to a red uniformed youth who smiles and whisks it away to join the mass of motorbikes parked on the sidewalk. It's July in Hanoi and hot; a refuge is needed from the stickiness and heat that lingers even at night. Customers on the first floor gaze casually out onto the sidewalk, empty coffee glasses littering their small tables. Fish swim lazily around a tank in the middle of the room. Teenagers in Café Mai uniforms bustle around a bar crowded with containers of coffee, condensed milk, and unlabeled plastic jars holding the secret to why Café Mai is known for some of the best coffee in Hanoi. During my time in Hanoi, I have had countless cups of coffee in dozens of cafés - none have affected me as lingeringly as Café Mai. From a blended of ground coffee beans, chocolate, and sugar, the rich aroma wafts throughout the café and down the street.

As usual, I skip the first floor and climb the narrow stairs to the second level, sidestepping a young girl carrying a full tray of glasses. The three story café is packed on this stuffy afternoon. Luckily, my usual table is open, sandwiched between three other tables bordering the rail that overlooks the street. I settle in and persue the menu, although I already know what I'll order. Café Mai offers juices, hot chocolate, and even tea, but I opt for coffee every time. During my last visit, I was buzzed 'til 10 p.m. from a cup of ca phe sua nong, hot coffee with sweetened condensed milk. This time I order an equally buzz-inducing ca phe sua da, the customary drink of Vietnam, which is consumed as often and easily as water. Ca phe sua da translates to "coffee with milk and ice"; the sua usually refers to sweetened condensed milk, and ingredient that is ever-present in Vietnam and a downfall to the health conscious.

The young girl who takes my order returns in just a few minutes, glass in hand. Filled three quarters to the top, it has a small layer of condensed milk resting at the bottom, with dark coffee and ice composing the rest of the mix. I stir, turning the drink a creamy caramel brown. I sip. Far more than any coffee I've ever had Café Mai's is the smooth and rich, an entirely whole coffee with enough sweetness to almost render as dessert. The after taste leaves a chocolaty overtone that remains as long as the time between your last and next sip. This isn't your run-of-the-mill coffee pumped full of amaretto of hazelnut syrup; the flavor is founded in the coffee itself, and from as much sweetened condensed milk as you can handle. I've brought friends and visitors here and have repeatedly watched the widened eyes, unprompted exclamations, and eager second gulps.

And this coffee is strong. The first time I visited Café Mai, I downed three cups with a friend of mine while proclaiming immunity to caffeine, since I had worked in a coffee shop for three years in high school. I was wired until 2 a.m. that night. After tasting Vietnamese coffee, chain blends will seem like water. During a recent trip to Kuala Lumpur, I rushed to the nearest Starbucks for a creature comfort from a company yet to penetrate Hanoi. I left, having finished my overpriced latte, feeling decidedly unsatisfied. Vietnamese coffee - and Café Mai's in particular - is unbeatable.

I drink the rest of my coffee, idly study my Vietnamese lesson (concentrating can be difficult in the stifling heat of Hanoi summer), and look around me. Men smoke cigarettes and chat, absent-mindedly stirring their glasses. A Westerner pores over notes and academic journal. Couples quietly drink and murmur. Boisterous young adults laugh. I order a second cup. A third would be foolish - I'd like to make it through the rest of the day without vibrating out of my shoes. I nurse this one slowly, take in the French-style architecture od the building across the street, squint into the sun, and enjoy the slight breeze that rustles the beaded curtain by the railing. I smile, I'm in Hanoi, drinking a sublime cup of coffee on a lazy Saturday afternoon. At this moment, things couldn't get better.

To Vietnam with Love, A Travel Guide for the Connoisseur
P105~106
ISBN 978-1-934159-04-0

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