The Hanoi Social Club
There are many areas in which Vietnam excels (bahn mi’s, hip propaganda, UNESCO World Heritage criteria, tea) and then there are those which have not quite been mastered across the board (personal space, road etiquette, income equality). Sadly, much to the dismay of this self confessed muesli aficionado, the eternally craved western breakfast has, for the most part, fallen into latter category. Whilst I’m certain that we in the oceanic world are equally as bleak in our congee skills, many a breakfast in ‘Nam left me with a somewhat bitter taste in my mouth (literally so much as metaphorically). This is perhaps the reason for the influx of oat themed posts as of late (plenty more where that came from!), because when you do happen to stumble across a breakfast place like this, it’s impossible not to want to shout it from rooftops. The Hanoi Social Club is a place of creaky floorboards and heavenly felafel sandwiches. Of warm croissants with jam and rooftop terraces dripping in foliage. Of avocado and ricotta. The bircher is heavenly (mango, coconut, passionfruit) and the eggs are poached perfectly. I’d love to say this was a once off excursion, that I didn’t give up hope on everywhere else and continued to give other establishments the benefit of the doubt, but if I did, I’d be lying. Because eating spiced carrot muffins tucked away in a little old French colonial villa to the dulcet tones of Jack Johnson is exactly the way one ought to begin a balmy morning, and once you’ve done it once, there really is no going back.