Balut
Southeast Asia

The first indication that this is not your typical eggThe first indication that this is not your typical egg

20th century cinema has given us creatures that evoke revulsion and fear, reducing audiences to howling, horrified school girls; who can forget watching the chest-burster plowing its way through John Hurt’s writhing body in Alien, or the disembodied head of Vance Norris (Charles Hallahan) sprouting spider legs in an attempt to escape incineration in John Carpenter’s The Thing? As horrific as these images are, the quivering little voice inside your head comforts you with the knowledge that this is simply cinematic technology at play, the product of skilled puppeteers, make-up artists and CGI techs. Nothing that Hollywood has presented to scare the bejeezus out of us can prepare the uninitiated diner for their first experience with the Southeast Asian street food known as balut in the Philippines, pong tia koon in Cambodia and Hột Vịt Lộn in Vietnam. At first glance, the dish seems relatively innocuous – the familiar faded white oval shell belies the evil that lurks deep inside, and if you’re not prepared for what you will inevitably tear asunder with each bite you could find yourself painting the carpet with Donald Duck’s progeny.

Slow-cooked balut waiting for a quick dipSlow-cooked balut waiting for a quick dip

It would be a simplification to pass off balut as a “cooked, fertilized duck egg”. The operative term here is “fertilized”; although much of the hen fruit we consume has been fertilized by the rooster, the eggs are refrigerated quickly preventing the fetus from developing. With balut, candidate eggs are candled to find the ones blocking the light (an indication that there is a developing chick inside). As Mrs. Gump accurately opined, “Life is like a balut – you never know what you’re gonna get” – the eggs are incubated to varying degrees by location – the Filipinos enjoy theirs at a reasonable 14-day gestational period while the hardcore Vietnamese eat them up to 21 days after being laid. At the later stage in the egg’s development, all the features of the duck fetus are clearly visible (bill, feet and even tiny feathers); the yolk is interlaced with a network of tiny red veins, itself a discomforting sight. Clearly there is an opportunity here for the Easter Bunny to mete out justice to misbehaving rugrats by leaving something special in the Easter basket, ensuring that the air will be filled with cries not of joy, but of horror (Eddie Lin did just that in an Easter posting on his Deep End Dining web site). Like a box of Cracker Jack, there’s a prize inside every one, but I doubt little Timmy will be trading with his friends.

The beak is all that's left after the first biteThe beak is all that's left after the first bite

Although some Asian dishes substitute balut for raw egg, the general process for enjoying these protein-packed snacks is to eat them right out of the shell. The Municipality of Pateros in the heart of Manila is the epicenter of balut production; the name itself means “duck raisers” in the native Tagalog language and there are more street vendors selling these avian infants than anywhere else on earth. The shell is worked to remove a small cap from the top; the first step is to drink the “soup” (the thin fluid inside the egg) right out of the shell. A conservative application of salt, pepper, chili paste and/or vinegar is added and then the shell gradually removed bit by bit to allow generous bites. As an omnivorous consumer with no reservations about eating any of this planet’s life forms, I could easily bankrupt Fear Factor; however, I must admit here that my freshman attempt at eating balut involved ten to fifteen minutes of self-convincing before I took my first bite. Although I can now polish off one or two balut faster than Cronos downed his offspring, I was recently taken aback when after taking my first bite I noticed that Huey, Dewey or Louie’s beak was sitting on the top of the remainder of the egg with the rest of his head missing (presumably in my mouth). Once you become accustomed to eating balut, it’s make Way for Ducklings – it imparts a strong flavor that is a conglomerate of duck, rich egg yolk and offal with the flavor of whole duck soup. Although the taste isn’t off-putting, you may wish to forego eating what is left of the albumen, as it is usually reduced to a hard chunk (appropriately referred to as “the rock”) that offers the same dining experience as trying to masticate a Michelin steel-belted radial.

Halved and plated Scotch balutHalved and plated Scotch balut

Although I favor traditional preparations and serving methods for most ethnic cuisine, I have taken balut to the next level, making an insidious version of the British treat, Scotch eggs (which could probably more accurately be called “deviled eggs”). Scotch eggs are simply hard boiled eggs, typically enveloped in ground pork sausage meat, painted with an egg wash, rolled in bread crumbs and then fried. The finished product is cleanly bisected to reveal concentric circles with a bright yellow yolk nucleus, surrounded by the white cooked albumen and rimmed on the outside with the brown sausage and fried coating. In the case of my hellish tribute, the balut served as the core, enveloped in ground duck sausage. I used raw unfertilized duck egg for the wash and rolled the ducky football in crushed crisp rice in an effort to translate the dish into Asian. After deep-frying to golden brown, the orbs were baked in the oven for about 15 minutes and then halved.

Asian street food - balut, basil and salt and pepperAsian street food - balut, basil and salt and pepper

I wasn’t sure how the Scotch balut would turn out, but I knew as I sliced each through the center I would be creating and artistic work destined to be the talk of the dinner party and a subject for investigation by the authorities. As I only made a few, I ended up slicing them into much smaller sections after the party guests went back for seconds – at one point someone asked for a morsel “with more baby duck in it”. I never could have predicted the popularity of the dish, but was pleased that those in attendance were willing to try it and judge it primarily based on taste.

Balut isn’t a dish for the timid food adventurer, but once you’ve savored its rich bounty, the infanticide aspect isn’t quite so daunting. It’s a relatively cheap and easy snack, regarded by many as an aphrodisiac, although the odds of you getting lucky after consuming balut on date diminish as the likelihood is you’ll be left standing with egg on your face.

Special thanks to ExoticMeatMarkets.com for the duck sausage

GALLERY: Images of balut and Val’s creation, Scotch balut

VIDEO: Val makes Scotch balut for KCRW’s Good Food:

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Bánh mì
Vietnam

The namesake Buu Dien SandwichThe namesake Buu Dien Sandwich

To the untrained eye, banh mi might resemble a “five dollar foot-long”, but under the hood you’re likely to find the ingredients a tad less Western. The term bánh mì actually describes the baguette used to create this Vietnamese staple, a diminutive loaf of French bread made from wheat and rice flour. Bánh mì can have a variety of fillings, but traditionally features slices of ham and/or head cheese and stuffed silly with fresh crunchy vegetables including cilantro, hot peppers, cucumber and picked, shredded daikon radish and carrots. In Southern California there are a few hot spots where you don’t have to travel far to sample traditional and localized preparations of the workingman’s salad sandwich, including San Gabriel Valley and Little Saigon in Westminster.

BBQ pork banh mi from Lien HoaBBQ pork banh mi from Lien Hoa

I was invited to join The Minty on a bánh mì through L.A.’s Chinatown, and after the fun I had getting my Salvadoran on at her pupusa crawl, I eagerly signed up. She had planned 5 stops, which included a not-so-gourmet food truck and an upscale bistro serving up Anglicized versions of the sandwich at the end of the yellow brick road in Little Tokyo. There were four foodies in tow (myself included) and we quickly agreed that we would order one or two sandwiches at each stop and quarter them (a sensible survivor skill when dealing with multiple bread bombs). The first stop was Bưu Điện, a small storefront at the end of a parking lot alley with iron folding plates over the window. The menu featured about 10 variations, all listed on a banner on the wall, and we quickly agreed on the Bánh Mì Bưu Điện (their signature Bưu Điện Sandwich) and the Chả Lụa (a Vietnamese pork sausage). The Bưu Điện Sandwich was their version of the traditional sandwich featuring a pork pâté and sliced ham and chock full of the aforementioned vegetables. The bread was firm but not stale and it neatly postponed bites bursting with flavor and texture; the sausage was an odd shade of red and was crumbly and dry. While a refrigerator held soft drinks I was intrigued with the two fountain bubblers at the counter that held a brownish-black fluid and something that looked like lawn clippings run through a blender. I opted for the dark, murky beverage which turned out to be a tasty blend of five different teas.

The remainder of my meatball banh mi at LA SandwichThe remainder of my meatball banh mi at LA Sandwich

Our second stop was a confusing little place billed as “Liên Hoa Chinese Deli & Seafood Market”. Inside was a row of steam tables holding limbs and organs of undetermined fauna and a meat case holding executed whole roasted ducks hanging from hooks, illuminated by what looked like klieg lights. As I prepared to preserve Donald in digital celluloid the woman behind the counter shouted out, “No pictures”, obviously assuming I was going to copy their inimitable style and open my own Chinese deli in Laguna Beach. We ordered the Vietnamese Special and BBQ Pork sandwiches and waited while she “toasted” the bread. Since Liên Hoa serves up hot food but doesn’t have any place to sit, we opted to partake of our purchases on a bench out front, hoping that the belief that everything tastes better outdoors held true. Sadly, it did not. Both sandwiches were dry, doughy and salty and even though they featured different ingredients did not have much variance in taste.

Fried catfish banh mi at The Spice TableFried catfish banh mi at The Spice Table

Discouraged but not beaten, we crossed back over the street and into a nondescript indoor mini-mall to LA Sandwich, a place that looked like a Subway counter you might find at in a truck stop on I-5. The climate inside was so diverse that I expected hail over the cash register; one particular spot felt like it was under a heat lamp and the store was filled with the smell of burnt toast. LA Sandwich offered 6 sandwiches and we decided on the #2 Pate Chả Lụa (Vietnamese sausage pâté) and #6 Xiu Mai (steamed meatball). We sat at a burnished aluminum table in the hallway where we divided up the goods – the bánh mì gods must have been smiling upon us since the smell of charred bread was not emanating from our meal; the bread was toasted but soft and the buttery Vietnamese mayo was prominent in the sandwiches. I particularly liked the course-ground steamed meatballs which were complemented by the spicy, fresh cilantro, frisky jalapenos and cool, crisp cucumber.

French bread, tools of the trade at The Spice TableFrench bread, tools of the trade at The Spice Table

We looked for the Nam Thai Vietnamese Truck at its stated location, but being a vehicle we were outsmarted by its mobility. With only one stop on the crawl left, we traveled the mile or so to Little Tokyo to the upscale Spice Table. The interior of the antique brick building was well lit but looked like it would be more at home in Tuscany than Los Angeles. I wasn’t sure we were in the right place since every printed word in the place was in plain English. The Spice Table’s menu features five bánh mì sandwiches (simply referred to as “Sandwiches”). I wanted to stay with tradition, ordering the “Cold Cut” sandwich (featuring ham, pâté and head cheese); we also ordered their take on the meatball bánh mì and the bizarre fried catfish. The cold cut sandwich had the potential to be fresh and flavorful but sadly it was doused in a red Sriracha-like sauce that overpowered the dish. The meatballs were zesty and delicious and garnished with peanuts and fresh herbs, but I found the over-use of the red hot sauce annoying on this sandwich. It seems as though they douse all the sandwiches with the fiery brew, but it actually worked well with the fried catfish. The catfish nuggets were coated in a cornmeal batter that formed a crust, sealing in the juices and resulting in moist, tender bites. I laughed a little thinking that the assembly of the catfish on the baguette along with the hot sauce made the sandwich seem more like a po-boy than a bánh mì.

I always have fun on The Minty’s crawls and enjoyed the variety of choice in what is otherwise a simple sandwich, but short of booking a flight to Ho Chi Minh City I am now intrigued enough with bánh mì to head out to San Gabriel and Westminster in search of the real deal. Big A, I still crave your steak and cheese, but I now have a new sandwich to love.

Bưu Điện
642 N. Broadway
Los Angeles CA 90012
GPS Coordinates: 34° 3’34.77″N 118°14’20.28″W

Liên Hoa Deli & Seafood
721 N. Broadway
Los Angeles CA 90012
GPS Coordinates: 34° 3’39.27″N 118°14’20.91″W

L.A. Sandwiches
736 N. Broadway #106
Los Angeles CA 90012
GPS Coordinates: 34° 3’40.90″N  118°14’19.16″W

The Spice Table
114 S. Central St.
Los Angeles CA 90012
GPS Coordinates: 34° 2’55.20″N 118°14’20.65″W

GALLERY: See images from Val’s eatventure on The Minty’s banh mi crawl in Chinatown and Los Angeles, California

Read The Minty’s take on the banh mi crawl in L.A.’s Chinatown

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