Phu Quoc, Vietnam

I worry about Phu Quoc. A mere hour's flight from Saigon, it sits off the Southern coast of Vietnam, near Cambodia. You can take day trips to Kampot and eat crabs stir-fried in black pepper. But Phu Quoc itself, a large island, is in the grips of construction. The main roads are being paved at speed, and new developments are sprouting. These are no trifling hotels either; from the work going on, they are going to be gigantic. The beaches are incredibly beautiful, and much of the island is dense jungle that has is a national park.

To the north of the island, Vinpearl has opened a giant, glitzy amusement park, garish and bright. Soon, Phu Quoc won't be the island life paradise it used to be, or still has current signs of. Get it while you can, because it really is a beautiful place. The sand is fine, the sea is clear and the food is good eating. I can't speak for the German and Russian restaurant, or the pizza places, or the curry house but I can tell you about roadside noodle restaurants and the night market.

Hire a pushbike or a scooter and get out to down-town Phu Quoc. It's frenetic and busy, with the market stalls selling fish, vegetables and meat. There's a lot of beep-beeping of scooters, vendors calling out to customers, shading themselves from the 35 degree heat. Metal and glass carts selling noodles or rice dishes were at every corner. We swerved splashes of water and ice used to keep the fish fresh, and pedalled past children on their way to school, piled high on motorbikes, sometimes three to the bike.

After a long morning exploring on our bikes in the blazing sunshine, we ate bun rieu, our t-shirts dark with sweat, by the dusty side of a bridge. The little old lady assembling the dish that was round noodles, a crab paste and lots of chives brought us glasses of cold tea, packed to the brim with ice to cool us down. 

We breakfasted often at a small café on the main road into downtown Phu Quoc, characterised by flapping bed sheets pinned up to keep the sun off the customers. Other diners had big bowlfuls of what looked like tripe and other innards, but the cook, already looking at us a bit wide-eyed, selected only the premium slices of beef for our noodles. I can't say I wasn't relieved, given it was our first meal of the day. A huge pile of chillies were passed around the diners, for you to take the chillis out and mash them in a saucer with lime juice. Some people just munch on the chillis straight up.

The night market, on every night, has an abundance of seafood. It's hard to know where is best to go, as by and large the selection looks pretty similar. It can be a bit overwhelming with people trying to convince you that theirs is the best, but we traversed the length and decided based on the number of diners.

We pointed to the dish the two local men sitting next to us were eating - what looked like a pile of salad in rice paper rolls, and we were given a plate of raw marinated anchovies mingled amongst it. The dreaded fish leaf was present and needed to be picked out, but otherwise I loved this; it was an enormous portion, but each bit had a different assortment of herbs. I've never seen rice paper like it; usually as with making summer rolls you need to dip them in hot water, but these were perfectly pliable and delicate without and needed but filling. Our local buddies next to us were impressed and started taking photos with us and of us. We smiled politely and concentrated on our rolling.

Huge prawns were split in half and grilled to just-done with plenty of garlic, and a lime-salt and chilli dip. Snapper was smeared in a garlic, chilli and sugar paste, to be barbecued in foil until caramelised, and eaten with rice. It was a wonderfully light, simple and delicious dinner, which cost just a little more than peanuts. We were told that prices at the night market were around 10% higher than local restaurants. It still doesn't come anywhere near breaking the bank.

The night market continues on to dessert stalls selling 'ice cream rolls', shaved ice drinks and then to clothes and souvenirs.

Wandering around one night round the back of the night market, we came across Oc Noc Quan on Ly Tu Trong street. We were immediately drawn by the barbecue going outside, and that nearly every table was packed with Vietnamese people with the odd foreigner here or there. We wedged ourselves in, amongst groups of lads cheers'ing big glasses of beer, and couples cooking on their own hot pots. Fish tanks with folorn-looking fish lined the back wall.

We ended up eating here twice out of our 4 nights, it was so good. Crispy noodles with seafood and vegetables were flavoured with a lot of black pepper, and the fried rice version was just as good. I think the dish cost £2. 

Clams with holy basil were sweet and delicious, cooked in a thick-ish sweet and tangy sauce. Lotus stem salad was an enormous portion and the building fiery heat made us gasp for water (beer). The couple next to us were carefully extracting whelks from their shells.

We asked for a barbecued fish, and our server pointed out one in the tank to us and the poor bugger was swept out of its prison. It reappeared 20 minutes later. I gave it a poke and was slightly disturbed to find it was still in its entirety. I flagged down our nice waiter and gave him a pleading look, and he deftly peeled back the charred and burnt skin, exposing the perfectly cooked flesh and avoiding any guts. We went from being aghast with our Western ways firmly in our heads, to admiring the ingenuity. This was served with that same rice paper, herbs and cucumber, and vermicelli to wrap it all up in, alongside a nuoc cham sauce to dip it into. One of my favourite ways to eat.

It wasn't all plain sailing; crab claws were obviously from frozen and had a mushy texture to them and were left largely untouched. Corn stir-fried with shrimp was tough and strangely dry, lacking in sweetness. But for a couple of duffs, we had some really great eating.

With a bloody great hangover, we ventured to the north of the island, to find an untouched beach mostly to ourselves, amongst fishing boats. It was perfect for my state of mind; I didn't want to be anywhere near anyone. Solitude was bliss.

I'd recommend doing this if you have a scooter, as it's a bit of a way in a taxi, without many to take you home again. We spent a very enjoyable day all on our own, with a quick break for lunch at a restaurant overlooking the ocean. 

The restaurant was full of Vietnamese families surrounding hot pots, each dipping their ingredients into the pot. Their meals went on into the afternoon, grazing as they went. We pointed to one of the hot pots blindly, putting everything in the hands of our waiter. 

It might seem crazy to be huddled cooking around a boiling pot when it's 34 degrees out, but once you're sweating you're arse off, you're sweating your arse off; a little hot soup doesn't make a difference. We got a huge basket of all manner of vegetables; chrysanthemum leaves, Chinese cabbage, morning glory and the like. A plate came with lots of different sliced fish, and a big bubbly thing we had no idea what was. We threw it in the pot and it turns out it was sea urchin, emerging from the pot looking rather like a deformed sponge. We poked at it, and feasted instead on delicately cooked fish and prawns, in a lemongrass-heavy broth, spooned over rice.

And so, after a few days of exploring, sitting on beaches and stuffing ourselves silly with seafood, it was on to Hoi An.

(I'd recommend staying at Phuong Binh House, where we stayed. Simple bungalows with decent A/C, and a good restaurant and beach location.)

Shuang Shuang, Chinatown

Shuang Shuang is a new-ish restaurant, taking over the space that used to be Mr Wu's buffet of woe on the corner of Wardour Street and Shaftesbury Avenue. When it was being built I wondered if we were getting another conveyor belt sushi joint, but I only got half of that right - conveyor belt, yes, but instead they specialise in hotpot. 

Hotpot is incredibly popular in Asia; some know it better as steamboat. It's especially liked as a style of meal for groups; its great fun and sociable, and you get a bonus face-steaming facial. It's a messy meal, as it involves dipping raw ingredients into stock, and then swooshing through various sauces and for that very reason Shuang Shuang provide bibs. I was a bit skeptical about the concept; it's meant to be a sociable dinner, so how would the individual stock pots work? Turns out they have both individual ones and ones to share, with a split for different stocks. Upstairs they have tables for parties of four. All bases covered, then.

The only cooked options are the 'snacks', and the jasmine tea egg was properly gooey. The pigs ears in Xinjiang spice were crisp, crunchy and addictive. That flavour built up incredibly, and before long we were gasping for water. They are a perfect little beer snack. 

We were invited to pick between the broths, and after having tasted them the 'fish pond', which was scented with lemongrass and reminded me much of a tom yum was selected, alongside the vegan soy milk base. I was hoping for a thicker, creamier broth for the soy milk, much like the gojiru that Koya Bar serve but as the broth reduces down, it typically gets stronger in flavour. I was a little taken aback that they charge £7 - £8 for the broths, as you can't really have a meal here without it. 

We got stuck into the ingredients, using the tongs to pluck the ingredients out of their plates and into our wire mesh baskets, to get dunked and cooked in the broth. All of the ingredients that whizzed past on the conveyor belt were of high quality, and we didn't feel there was any point in which we were lacking in variety. Other hotpot meals I've been for in London serve large portions of each ingredient which is great when there's four or six of you, but can be a bit filling when there's just two. This conveyor belt system means you can choose to eat a wider variety in smaller portions. Our favourite was the prawn balls; it arrives in a bamboo tube, for you to spoon into you broth, where it puffs up and bobs to the surface when its cooked. 

Roots like pumpkin, daikon and lotus stems need to go in early on, to give them plenty of cooking time. I usually forget about them and fish out a nice surprise when I'm sweeping the pot. Shuang Shuang has a guide to how long things need to cook for, but for anyone who cooks at home I imagine this would be redundant, as it were us. 

I like that they have more traditional ingredients, like tripe, and this blood tofu. It's pigs blood set and sliced - it has the texture of silken tofu. They also have 'luncheon meat' - aka Spam - which is really very delicious boiled. Trust me. Lots of vegetables went by, like choy sum, gai laan and corn on the cob. They also have very thinly sliced beef, available as wagyu as well which we didn't bother with; after all, you are boiling it and wiping it through a pretty intense sauce. 

Traditionally, once you're done with cooking your bits and bobs, noodles then go in for you to finish off with a noodle soup using the broth that's been enriched with all the flavours of your ingredients. I liked the knotted noodles, and trashy instant noodles hit the spot too. I'd like to see more options for the noodles as they were quite limited to these two on the night we went. 

And then we were done. Soy milk ice cream with crystallised ginger was a lovely, refreshing end to the meal. 

I've been reading the reviews trickle in with interest, and sure enough a lot of them quip about not wanting to cook their own dinner. Giles appears unable to gauge the heat of vegetables coming out of a cauldron of boiling stock. AA Gill confuses hotpot with soup. Bafflingly, a lot of them complain about the stress of so much choice. Have they been to Yo! Sushi? Is that heart-stopping too? Chill out, guys. There's much mention on feeling stressed about all the utensils on offer. Let me break it down for you - tongs for raw food, wire mesh basket for fishing, chopsticks for cooked food into the mouth. The critics seem to have broken down into hysterical children at something more complicated than ordering off a menu. Peculiar really, as I absolutely loved hotpot as a child, and I do now. It's meant to be fun.  

There is the delicate matter of the bill, though. As with any conveyor belt restaurant, one does have to be a little savvy with mental arithmetic. All the careful sourcing, house-made tofu and quality of the ingredients mean that to come to Shuang Shuang, feel like you've had a decent meal and maybe half a bottle of wine, you're looking at £50 a head. Not inconceivable for a Central London restaurant, but Little Lamb, a few doors down, has a hotpot set menu at £23 a head, whereby you order 5 ingredients each. (NB. this is most worthwhile if you are a party of 4 or more.) Quality and variety costs. 

Shuang Shuang,
64 Shaftesbury Ave, 
London W1D 6LU

I dined as a guest of the restaurant. 

EDIT from the PR: the prices have been altered since the visit to the restaurant and the average is now around £25-£30 a head. Shuang Shuang have now introduced a set menu ‘The Market Set” which is £12.50 for broth, dipping sauce, noodles and x5 green plates. 

Sweating Over a Steamboat

Steamboats, it must be said, aren't traditionally eaten in high summer. Bubbling pots of broth are set upon a hot plate or a gas burner with piles of thinly sliced meats, fish and vegetables for you to dip in the broth, fish out and eat. Not really conducive to the summer sun, but then we don't get much of that anyway.

We used to go for steamboat a lot when I was a child. One particular memory I have is of gazing down at some sort of shellfish and poking it with a toothpick, watching it quiver, before promptly dumping it in the broth. I was never destined to be a vegetarian.

Four of us, plus my parents took a trip to Little Lamb in Chinatown for dinner one night. If I'm honest I'm surprised my parents agreed to it. My dad always muttered that he couldn't understand why anyone would go to a restaurant to pay to cook their own food, but it's all in the fun of it. We were given a tick sheet and for 23 of your finest pounds per head, you get to choose 5 dishes each .

Given we were 6, we chose 30. Firstly, a huge bowl, split into two, yin-yang style. In one side, a spicy, oily broth, the other was a mild, mushroom stock. And then the plates started coming. Wafer-thin slices of pork, beef and lamb were dipped lazily into the broth until just cooked. Fish balls of all type, our favourites being the Fuzhou (stuffed with minced pork) slopped in to bob around. An onslaught of prawns, squid, sweet meaty crabs, various vegetables joined, and soon we couldn't move for the plates.

My favourites? The 'ham', which as we suspected, was Spam (stop grimacing - I bloody love Spam). Who would have thought boiled Spam would be so tasty? It was. Those Fuzhou fish balls and the crab came in at a close second, as well as the turnip, which was daikon, that soaked up the flavours beautifully. Mongolian flat bean noodles were wonderfully slippery, and none of us escaped without splattered selves - do not, under any circumstances, wear white. Pak choi and lettuce were refreshing in simplicity, and the only real duds were the fried gluten which were much like deep fried bread puffs, and a really tough plate of beef tripe.

For £33 a head with a few beers and service, it really was a feast - 30 dishes! 30! - and although yes, you are cooking the dinner yourself, it's a fun way to share a meal with friends. Highly recommended; but you will emerge stinking of meat.

Little Lamb

72 Shaftesbury Avenue
London W1D 6NA

Tel: 020 7287 8078

Steam Boat

Steam boat or hot pot is one of my favourite ways to eat. You get a big pot of stock, sometimes divided into different sections to have different flavoured stocks, and it sits on either a gas fire or an electric hob to keep it bubbling. Raw meats, seafood and vegetables are then lowered into the stock with a small wire basket (like the one you can see on top of the veg) to cook at your leisure. It's a fun and sociable way to eat, and it allows you to cook the food just how you like it. At the end, you usually have noodles to throw in to eat with the well flavoured stock to eat as a noodle soup.

We had ours at this Vietnamese restaurant in the Wing Yip complex in Croydon. We chose seafood (£39.95 for four). It was delicious - it was all very fresh, although a bit cheeky of them to give us the 'crab'stick. We chose a tom yum stock, and this was obviously made fresh and not from a cube. It was both spicy and sour, like a good tom yum should.