With no cooling fans or signage, only a bamboo basket and worn plastic chairs, Mr. Viet’s sidewalk salad stall on Hang Bun Street (Hoan Kiem, Hanoi) still draws throngs of loyal customers each afternoon.

At 4 p.m., as Mr. Viet arrives with his bamboo basket in tow, 4–5 customers are already waiting.

“I don’t even finish setting up until 4:30 p.m. and you guys are already here in this heat,” he jokes as he unloads.

“If we don’t come early, we’ll have to queue,” the regulars reply.

Mr. Viet sets down his bamboo basket and a large bag filled with green papayas. His setup includes a bamboo tray and dozens of well-worn plastic stools.

Customers form a line, with those dining in seated on the sidewalk. Within 15 minutes, a crowd gathers to order the signature “nom lim” and “nom ta la” – special papaya salads passed down through generations.

“I don’t have a signboard, so most people come by word of mouth. Lately, my son started a TikTok channel, which helped bring in new customers,” Mr. Viet says with a grin, his tone both humorous and blunt, but always friendly.

Mr. Do Trong Viet, 57, has been in the salad trade for 45 years, a livelihood started by his parents. Initially, they sold dried beef salad and spleen, but began adding beef offal in 1985.

By age 12, Viet was already helping his father. When his parents became too old to continue, he and his brothers took over. After marrying, they divided the business but stayed supportive of one another.

The names “nom lim” and “nom ta la” were coined by customers. “Nom lim” refers to the dried beef, whose dark, firm pieces resemble ironwood – similar in appearance to the smoked buffalo meat of Vietnam’s northern highlands.

“Nom ta la” came about when his parents started including beef offal like stomach (often called honeycomb), spleen, liver, throat (nicknamed 'spring'), and penis (referred to by the local slang “ca bo”).

Many first-time customers react with surprise when learning what “ca bo” is, blushing as Mr. Viet explains.

This particular item is especially popular among male customers and usually sells out quickly.

“Even though we all inherited the same recipe from our father, each of my brothers has a slightly different flavor, reflecting our individual styles. We all value and preserve this legacy,” Mr. Viet says.

In the morning, he shops for fresh ingredients at wholesale markets and preps until about 1 p.m. His son and grandson help with serving and deliveries during sales hours.

Fresh beef is cleaned, deodorized, marinated with fish sauce, salt, and cinnamon, then dried into strips the width of three or four fingers. These are shredded by hand before serving. “One bite and you’ll know it’s real beef,” say many patrons.

Each piece of dried beef, resembling a block of ironwood, costs about 100,000 VND (approximately 3.93 USD).

Offal is meticulously cleaned to remove unpleasant odors. While frying, Mr. Viet adds annatto seeds to the oil to give the dish its golden hue.

The “ta la” plate features a variety of textures and flavors from the assorted offal cuts.

Fresh green papayas are scrubbed, peeled, halved, and deseeded before being bagged. Despite the long lines, Mr. Viet only grates the papaya after an order is placed to ensure it stays crisp, dry, and absorbent for the sour-sweet dressing.

The salad is served with herbs, beef, tendons, stomach, and more depending on customer preference, topped with a tangy, spicy, savory, slightly fatty dressing made with beef fat. Mr. Viet slices each ingredient to order.

“Watching the vendor prepare food with scissors and bamboo trays takes me back to the 1990s,” says Duy, a regular. “It’s not for the impatient.”

Many diners enjoy the dried beef and offal so much that they order extra or take some home.

Customers typically wait 15–20 minutes for their turn.

Another crowd-pleaser is the crispy fried garlic, which is light, aromatic, and fluffy. “If not done right, it turns either burnt or mushy,” says Mr. Viet. It should be eaten separately or quickly, as soaking in the dressing makes it soggy.

The chili sauce and dressing are also homemade, with the former being quite spicy, so patrons are advised to request milder versions if needed.

“My father’s stall was always busy, especially with drinkers. If someone rushed him, he’d say, ‘If you’re in a hurry, go buy some candy – that’s fast. This isn’t.’ Now I just ask for patience or suggest they come back later. Our food is best made fresh, not rushed,” Mr. Viet explains.

Despite the scorching weather, people still line the sidewalk, eager for a taste.

Though the stall operates from 4:30 p.m. to 7:30 p.m., it often sells out by 6 or 6:30. Prices range from 50,000 to 300,000 VND (about 1.97 to 11.80 USD) depending on the amount of dried beef and offal ordered.

Though not cheap, with no air conditioning or fancy seats, patrons are drawn in by the freshness, unique flavors, and Mr. Viet’s witty, occasionally sharp-tongued humor.

Recently, Mr. Viet’s son launched a TikTok account to share stories about his father’s popular street food stall.

Linh Trang