This article was produced by National Geographic Traveller (UK).

On a damp evening in Ho Chi Minh City, I find myself perched on the back of a Vespa, unknowingly on my way to meet an infamous gangster. The rain drums relentlessly on the tarmac, soaking us through as we glide to a halt outside a vibrant eatery known as Oc Loan, tucked away in a quiet side street. The aroma that wafts from the establishment is irresistible, yet the scene is nothing short of striking. Tables adorned with an array of seafoodsnails larger than my fist, succulent clams, and glistening river prawnsbeckon from water troughs that resemble street stalls. At the helm of this seafood haven is a man in torn denim shorts and flip-flops, bedecked with heavy gold chains and knuckle dusters. Hes not your typical restaurant host, but he certainly adds an intriguing flair to the atmosphere.

My guide, Yen Navi, enlightens me on the restaurants storied past. The owner here was a gangster, she explains while gesturing toward our flamboyant host. His wife initially ran the restaurant. His flashy gold chains drew people in, and thats how Oc Loan gained its popularity. It quickly becomes evident that dining out in Vietnams second-largest city is a vibrant adventure, as I dive into my culinary exploration of its eclectic street food scene via a scooter tour.

Oc Loan is not merely a tourist trap; it holds genuine street cred among local seafood aficionados, evident by the bustling crowd both inside and outside. The floor is littered with empty shells, reminiscent of a lively tapas bar, and the rustic dishes served showcase ingredients sourced from the nearby Mekong Delta. Im feeling particularly adventurous as I indulge in juicy clams simmered in a fragrant lemongrass broth, sizzling barbecued prawns, and a platter of tender, smoky scallops topped with peanuts and spring onions. While I shy away from the giant snails, the flavors I experience are undeniably delectable.

In recent years, Ho Chi Minh City has seen an explosion of microbreweries, trendy cafes, and Michelin-rated restaurants, each contributing to its diverse culinary landscape. The city, still endearingly referred to as Saigon by many locals, recently inaugurated a groundbreaking metro line influenced by Japanese design in December of last year. However, exploring this bustling city on a scooter remains the quintessential way to immerse oneself in its culture. As we weave through the sprawling metropolis, we stop to relish jasmine iced tea and banh xeo, rice-flour pancakes filled with minced pork, aromatic Thai basil, and a uniquely flavored fish leaf herb. We dine cheek-to-cheek with the locals, gathered around unsteady tables illuminated by bare bulbs.

Despite the delicious fare, one iconic dish is noticeably absent from my feast: banh mi, the renowned Vietnamese sandwich that has garnered international acclaim over the past decade. The following day, while touring the city's breakfast food scene, my local guide Jerry Thanh Nghia, who possesses a charming American-inflected accent, informs me that banh mi is primarily consumed in the morning. We venture to a narrow street on the fringe of District 1 to find Bay Ho, a sandwich shop featured in Netflixs Street Food: Asia series back in 2019.

In Saigon, you can find a food stall every 150 meters, Jerry explains, baseball cap in hand, as we observe a constant stream of motorbikes arriving at the shop. The shop owner, Ho Quoc Dung, clad in a Louis Vuitton T-shirt and flip-flops, serves up baguettesan enduring staple in Vietnam since the French Indochina era. He expertly spreads pig-liver pt, coriander, pickled radish, and vibrant red chopped pork, infused with a cashew-seed rub, into the freshly baked baguettes.

As I take my turn, Dung offers me a taste of the coarse pt on a spoon. The secret recipe for the pt is our biggest asset, passed down from my grandfather, he shares. The flavor is rich, garlicky, and impeccably seasoned, enhancing every component of the sandwich. Dung, now in his late thirties, shares that he rises at 3 a.m. with his wife to scour markets for the freshest coriander and chilies.

The bustling markets of Ho Chi Minh City form the backbone of its food culture. As morning is the ideal time to experience them, Jerry and I set off to explore. The smoky aroma of grilled meats fills the air as we stroll through District 3 towards the Vuon Chuoi wet market. Here, shopkeepers expertly flip spring rolls in deep woks while others take short naps on day beds, doors swung wide open to welcome customers. Our journey then takes us to District 5, where we explore Chinatown, one of the largest in the world, established in the 1730s. We step into the Thien Hau temple, believed to date back to the 18th century, and offer a prayer beneath a sky filled with beehive-shaped incense burners.

Our culinary adventure culminates with a visit to Phung Hung market. As we approach, stall owner Chung Quoc Hung greets us with a steaming cloud of condensed milk ready to pour into small glasses, adhering to traditional Vietnamese customs. He expertly brews our drinks using a thin-weave cotton filter from a clay pot, a method known as racket coffee. Chung's family has honed this technique over 70 years at Caf Ba L. I balance on a small plastic stool beside his simple coffee cart, savoring the robust flavor, sweetened with condensed milk, that has become a beloved staple in Vietnamese culture.

Interestingly, Vietnam has emerged as the worlds second-largest coffee producer after being initially introduced by the French colonialists. They attempted to establish dairy farms here in the early 1900s, but the tropical climate proved unsuitable for cows," Jerry explains, alluding to the origins of condensed milk becoming a favorite among lower-income locals looking to indulge in French-inspired coffee drinks.

Later that day, I join a young barista named Nguyen Tran Anh for a coffee-making workshop in the historic French quarter at a trendy cafe called Lacph. The atmosphere is chic, with fashionable Vietnamese patrons sipping cold brews amid a backdrop of brick-lined walls. The workshop focuses on the unique Vietnamese phenomenon of egg coffee, where egg yolks replace milk to create a rich creaminess, while the whites provide froth. With the help of Anh, I navigate through the process using mini electric whisks and weighing scales, learning about Vietnams evolving coffee culture.

Once we complete our concoction, the resulting beverage resembles a baby Guinness cocktail, crowned with a luscious golden foam. First, we taste the cream like a dessert, Anh instructs. Then, you can take a spoonful of the egg cream and coffee together, and lastly, stir it up to drink it like a cappuccino. The drink is decadently rich and smooth, laced with coffee blossom honey harvested from the arabica flower, showcasing a delightful contrast of flavors.

Dinner that evening at Nn Light is an experience unto itself. I struggle momentarily to locate the understated entrance of this contemporary restaurant, whose Vietnamese co-founders were influenced by their time studying in Japan. In under a year, executive chef Summer Les culinary creations were recognized by the Michelin Guide, which praised the establishment for its immersive tasting menus. Nns sister restaurant in Da Nang was even awarded Vietnams first Michelin Green star.