Along with the sites, smells and kaleidoscopic beauty that makes up Northern Vietnam, so was the slow-and-steady drip, drip, drip of the ubiquitous "phin", aka Vietnamese Coffee Drippers.
Decadence at its finest—the crack-like quality of an obscene amount of Robusto coffee, packed into these little steel contraptions, topped with hot water and then you wait as it slowly appears, a tar-like looking liquid with petrol-like qualities.
I remember once—many years ago—while living in Saigon, I mainlined one of these two quickly and had to literally lie down in a park, as I was fearing a heart attack brought on by both the caffeine level (Robusto is famous for it; nearly 2 or 3x the usual amount) as well as the gobs of condensed milk that are then added.
And it's currently all the rage these days in the coffee scene. Much like books and vinyl, the reemergence of coffee as it should be—a byproduct of hot water slowly making its way down through the granules, and eventually to your cup vs. this society of Keurig machines, delivering prepackaged Joe within seconds.
Not the Phin. Its beauty exists in the anticipation. How many more droplets of black gold until it's ready? You can never be sure.
And I thought this little culinary cultural piece would go well along our little Silk Road we have here, joining the ranks of Turkish Towels + kebab knives from Istanbul, Aran Sweaters from the Aran Islands of Ireland and K-Beauty products (coming soon).
They're being offered here to my little ON GOING circle for $20 a piece, or $45 for a pair + shipping.
(I wanted to offer it here and with a discount before going public.)
It also comes with a wonderful little animated video, that my friend, the talented artist and illustrator Elena Ignia created, to show you exactly how to make Iced (or hot) Vietnamese Coffee or even tea.
And the best part? They were bought from the kindest of couple in Hanoi's Old Quarter, Mrs. and Mr. Hang, who not only spent an hour up in their attic finding them all, but also called on the entire neighborhood to help me box them all up—sitting there on the side of the road (Iced Coffee in hand), packing these all up.
But I only have 38 remaining, so should this fit nicely into your kitchen or on your Christmas shopping list, message me!
