Here's how to not have a tummy ache while eating in Southeast Asia. Photo / Chris Stead
One of the highlight experiences of any trip into the bustling streets and humid jungles of Southeast Asia is food and, as Chris Stead discovered, you can eat with confidence.
A sea of scents swirls across the crowd like a taste tornado, causing many a lip to be licked in anticipation. The last rays of the sun paint a corner of the sky a palette of pink pastels, in stark contrast to the neon lights that illuminate the surrounding market.
There’s a sizzle in the air, a chorus sung by dozens of barbecues rolled out by merchants for the nightly ritual. In the centre of the market, they corral a carpeted area, already dotted by families, couples and backpackers, laughing and talking. Music drowns out the endless hum of motorbikes in the distance.
It’s been this way for two months now; my family of five finding street markets to sate appetites earned touring destinations and activities. The selection is vast and cheap. Often, we choose a dish each – a freedom the kids adore – then throw in some staples to flesh it out. Rice, noodles, spring rolls and vegetables.
We were worried at first. That we’d get sick. That we’d spend days in servitude to the porcelain throne. But it never happened and I want you to be confident and empowered to do the same. Because of all the amazing sights, and sites, we visited, our night market ritual remains my fondest memory.
The No 1 thing that’s likely to get you into trouble is water. The good news is the locals are aware our weak Western guts can’t hack Asian tap water. When ice is used in cocktails or drinks, you’ll see it come out of a bag. While fruit or salad gets washed with bottled water.
The reality is, that the amazing people of Indonesia, Vietnam, Laos, Cambodia, Thailand and Malaysia – which we visited – aren’t out to get you. That said, if unboiled water or ice is a part of your meal, don’t be afraid to ask where it came from.
I remember for the first few weeks I’d push the little garnish (usually cucumber) to the side, unsure how it had been rinsed … until I found out the kids had been eating it the whole time.
Cooked and peeled
As a basic rule of thumb, anything cooked or peeled is good to go. Malicious particles are killed by the heat or discarded with the peel. The vast majority of street food you’ll come across in Southeast Asia is fresh and cooked in front of you.
Topping up your energy levels at street-side shops, mobile vendors or markets is not only an enjoyable experience of discovery, but functional and cheap. Pork or chicken buns are easy to come across. Banh Mi is great. Barbecue skewers are all the rage, with any number of meats on offer. Cheese-filled coin pancakes are popular at the moment, while my kids adored Bánh Xèo, a crispy pancake.
One word of warning, if a food you love, like pizza, is prefaced with the word “happy,” they’re not referencing its mood, but rather the inclusion of cannabis-infused ingredients.
Hot in the heat
There’s no such thing as mild in Southeast Asia. There’s chilli or more chilli. Thankfully, I was surprised by how quickly all of us – kids included – adapted to a bit of heat. Soon enough my boys were fighting to be the first to try something new, while bravely deadpanning “no reaction” with watery eyes.
If heat is an issue for you, poke through your food with your chopsticks before you start shovelling mouthfuls down your throat. It’s easy to spot chilli and move it to the side.
Smoothies are super
One of the best discoveries we made during our days walking the streets of Southeast Asia was smoothies. Real smoothies. We’re talking multiple, full pieces of fruit blended and mixed in their purest form.
Ludicrously cheap, smoothies are made to order by street vendors and are not just filling, but refreshing. Whenever we found our energy wavering in the heat, we were quick to hunt down a smoothie. You can stick with fruit flavours, but there are some inventive sweet options, too.
Weird and wonderful
Life’s too short to die wondering; don’t let your imagination run you away from a local delicacy, the experience of which you can hold over your friends for years.
In Cambodia, we dined on tarantulas and fried insects at one roadside stop, while spiders crawled along our arms. In Can Tho Vietnam, we found dried frog at a riverside stall. In Luang Prabang, Laos, whole squids skewered on a stick, while in Vang Vieng a cart owned by “Big Mama” made incredible burgers from a mystery meat. On the Mekong, we were invited into a local’s farmhouse to try her homemade cakes and sweets.
And not once did we get sick.
Sitting on the corner of a bustling street in Ho Chi Minh on a tiny stool at a tiny table, under a motorway, may not be exotic, but it’s intoxicating. I remember being surrounded by locals, laughing and drinking. A hot pot centred on the table, with five salivating mouths chomping at the bit. Plates of fried rice, pho, spring rolls and bok choy piled around it; a cool beer in the hand …