The rainy season is upon us in Saigon. Bouts of rain from ferocious to gentle have helped tempered the searing heat of summer. At one corner of the city, amid the moisture of freshly rained-on atmosphere is the bittersweet caramel scent of sugar syrup bubbling on the stove and of fried dough. It fills me with both nostalgia and a craving for golden, crispy bánh chiên hidden at every market and alley across Saigon.

Bánh chiên literally means fried dough in Vietnamese, referring to a genre of pastry that comes in so many shapes and flavors. Today’s bánh chiên carts are adorned with flashy signage and even twinkling LED lights, but when I was young, they merely consisted of an aluminum trunk with wheels beneath so vendors could take their pastry on the road. Above the counter is an oil wok that’s never not boiling, while a glass display sits in front, showcasing steaming pastry that’s freshly fried.

The fragrance of oil and dough emanates from bánh chiên carts.

Even from afar, you can immediately smell the rich scent of fried food without actually seeing the carts. When you arrive, your eyesight will be greeted with a luxurious platter of puffy pastry arranged in neat rows. It’s very hard to walk by without stopping to grab at least a couple of bánh bò-bánh tiêu sandwiches, or a bánh cam to satisfy the craving.

It’s hard to walk by without grabbing something.

Bánh cam and bánh còng

I distinctly remember a time in Saigon when bánh cam vendors could pass for street acrobats thanks to their towering tray of bánh cam and bánh còng piling atop one another like giant hats. I’ve never seen them drop any while moving about on really cluttered streets.

Who wants a bánh cam or bánh còng?

To show appreciation for their intricate balancing act and sympathy for their hard work, my mother always bought a few bánh cam to help out. One for her, the rest for us. My love for bánh cam was kindled from then on.

Bánh cam is named after orange in Vietnamese, because it resembles a small fruit. Each bánh cam is spherical, covered in a shimmering layer of amber sugar syrup and white sesame seeds. Bánh còng gets its name from the shape which resembles a handcuff. Bánh cam and bánh còng often go together, though the former also comes with a mung bean filling.

Bánh cam and bánh còng with sugar glaze.

Before the first bite, I like to hold the bánh cam up and give it a little shake, just to hear the nub of filling collide with the crispy skin. Upon chewing, you’ll get a little taste of the sticky rice dough mixed with the sweet, salty, and nutty filling.

Bánh tiêu and bánh bò

While bánh cam can easily draw both children and adults in with its sweet shiny glaze, bánh tiêu, on the other hand, is much more rustic.

A traditional and pandan version of bánh tiêu.

Traditionally, bánh tiêu is not a sweet dish, mainly made of wheat flour with toasted sesame seeds. The dough is fried in oil until puffy and golden, for a simple and straightforward greasy treat.

Deep-fried bánh tiêu

I will always remember the weekends and summer days without school when mom would take me along during her market visits. The trips would end with heavy bags of produce, but to make it up to me, she would reward me with a bánh tiêu from the market corner.

The pastry is undoubtedly greasy, but very irresistible.

Bánh tiêu might look plump and round, but the inside is empty, so people often pair it with a jiggly chunk of white or green bánh bò as the filling. It’s a match made in sweet heaven as their tastes compliment each other: the oily fried dough is anchored by the soft, light texture of bánh bò. Just one pair of bánh bò tiêu is enough to make anyone feel full.

Modern bánh tiêu is upgraded with ice cream like durian or taro.

Giò cháo quẩy and other crispy fried treats

Apart from circular and spherical pastries, the picture is incomplete without pairs of sausage-shaped dough called giò cháo quẩy. These originate from Hoa Vietnamese communities, but have been adapted to Saigoneers’ palates.

Giò cháo quẩy and drumstick donuts

As a morning snack, giò cháo quẩy is paired with hot drinks like bạc xỉu and milk coffee. Tear off a small chunk of dough, dunk it in the glass, and enjoy how that woodsy, bitter liquid perfectly balances out the greasiness of the fried dough. Elsewhere, in a savory context, bite-sized quẩy pieces are served alongside porridge and bánh canh. The dough will soak up the flavorful broth and burst in your mouth with every bite.

Of course, any fried food discourse can’t leave out the crispy presence of banana fritters. Small local banana cultivars like chuối sứ are rolled thinly, coated in flour, and then double-fried to produce a golden shell and moist, caramelly banana filling. Not to mention the quirkily named and shaped bánh đùi gà — chicken drumstick donut — that’s both sweet and chewy and smells of toasted sesame.

Fried bánh bao

A more adult offering would be fried bánh bao. A typical bao is soft and white, cooked in a steamer, while the fried version is amber-colored and crunchier, though the mince and quail egg filling is the same across versions.

Saigon’s bánh chiên arts are always a sumptuous feast that can satisfy any palate. Bánh chiên is a rustic treat for the people, a nostalgic snack that not only helps connect eaters with their childhood, but also satiate late-afternoon cravings.

Golden fried dough is never not alluring.