The eatery of Ha Dinh Hoa, 70, located in a narrow alley on Khuong Thuong Street, is a small shop with an old signboard, a cupboard of ingredients, a mini gas stove, and a few tables and chairs.

The alley leading to the stall is just 1.5 meters wide—motorists must skillfully maneuver to pass or turn around. Yet, for 22 years, this spot has been a go-to for locals and even attracts curious visitors from afar, eager to witness Hoa’s deft “fire-dancing” performance.

Hoa’s stall serves only one dish: bun bo. He told VietNamNet that he was once a soldier and later worked in HCM City, where he met a mentor who treated him like family and gave him the recipe for ‘bun bo nam bo’, or southern-style bun bo, which is differentiated with bun bo Hue , or Hue-styled bun bo. Bun bo nam bo, in southern provinces, is also known as bun tron or vermicelli with stir-fried meat.

As his aging parents remained in the North, Hoa returned to Hanoi, setting up his bun bo trade to support his wife and raise two sons.

His bun bo features eight ingredients: vermicelli, lettuce, bean sprouts, shredded pork roll, crushed peanuts, fried shallots, stir-fried beef, and sauce.

Hoa said the dish’s success hinges on stir-frying the beef and crafting the sauce. “It took me over three months to master beef frying - practicing repeatedly until my teacher approved,” he recalled.

Hoa and his wife use fresh beef provided by a loyal supplier, who also supplies beef to large supermarkets. The beef, pre-sliced, is marinated with lemongrass and stored in a cooler.

When a customer places orders, Hoa fires up the stove and prepares beef. “I fry it fresh for each order—hot, tender, and juicy, never dry or tough,” he explained.

Fire-dancing flair

This is when he showcases his “fire-dancing” flair, captivating onlookers and enhancing the dish’s appeal.

His ‘stage’ is right at the stall’s entrance. Equipped with a mini gas stove and a small wok, Hoa heats the oil until it sizzles, tosses in beef, garlic, and pepper, and stirs lightly with chopsticks.

With a flick of his wrist on the wok’s handle, flames leap above his head, engulfing the pan’s rim. The beef sizzles audibly, releasing a mouthwatering aroma as fire flares dramatically—a visual feast.

“You’ve got to keep the beef spinning in a perfect arc, so it doesn’t spill. The flame rolls up from below to cook it evenly, not flaring too high or spreading out. I use a mini stove as it’s safer than industrial ones and gives just the right heat,” he cautioned.

Before frying, Hoa puts chopped lettuce, vermicelli, bean sprouts, and pork roll strips into a bowl. After about three minutes of fiery frying, he pours the steaming beef atop, sprinkles crushed peanuts and golden shallots, and finishes with a ladle of sauce.

The sauce, a blend of fish sauce, vinegar, sugar, and cooled boiled water, is the flavor linchpin. Hoa’s secret recipe uses Phan Thiet’s finest fish sauce, salty yet not overpowering.

“Some restaurant folks have offered to buy my sauce recipe, but I won’t sell. My teacher told me to keep it sacred. No matter the price, I’ll only pass it to my kids,” he said.

The ingredient that determines the quality is the sauce, made from fish sauce, vinegar, sugar, and cooled boiled water. However, Hoa has his own recipe, in which the fish sauce must be Phan Thiet fish sauce, salty enough but not too strong in flavor.

“Some restaurant folks have asked to buy my sauce recipe, but I won’t sell. My teacher told me to keep it sacred. No matter the price, I’ll only pass it to my kids,” he said.

Diners mix everything with chopsticks, letting the sauce meld into a tangy, sweet, and savory harmony.

To Van Kien, a 10-year loyal customer, told VietNamNet that he comes to the shop regularly.

“It suits my taste, and the price is fair. Hoa is very cheerful. The place is small and tricky to reach, but I keep coming back,” he said.

Open from 8am to 9pm, the stall is busiest on weekends and hot summer days. Hoa sells about 100 servings daily.

Linh Trang