Mr. Hokkaido – 301 of 365

Mr. Hokkaido’s Home

Normally a boring salad and pastry lunch would not even come close to worthiness of inclusion in a Vietnamese food journey, but of course this being Vietnam, they were shrouded in the normal weirdness found over here.  And this one goes to show that my normal diet is actually quite mundane with leafy greens and such when I am not on the search for all things street.

Grocery store baked goods stewing silently in their rapid progression towards staleness are always a tasty, though guilty, splurge.  A strange one labeled “Mr. Hokkaido” screamed take me home tonight just because its name is so bizarre.  OK, so you are now wondering what is so special about a Japanese named pastry in Saigon.  Well, nothing really except for the fact that the sales girl steered this one right into the gutter though I suspect she had no such intentions.

A Busted Up Mr. Hokkaidp

First off, let’s just get out of the way what this thing is.  Picture a fattening and glazed gut busting mass of fried batter much like a doughnut but much longer.  Then top this diabetes inducer with yellow and red beans.  Yes, that is correct.  Beans.   The same sort of beans we might eat in a stew or as a dinner side.  Beans.  Beans on a doughnut more specifically.  I suppose they look at one of our apple and raisin delights and think how nasty can Americans be.  But still, just damn.  Beans?  How strange can things get?

Evidently even stranger after the sales girl tried to lift this sucker from the tray to a plastic bag using tongs.  Mr. Hokkaido unfortunately split in half.  She giggled and said, “Oooooooo.  Too big for me in finger!”  She picked it up again and gravity snatched this thing once again down to the tray.  As it landed with a thud, she then said, “You like eat?  Mr. Hokkaido taste very delicious!”  Of course I did not quite know how to answer this one.

Some of the icing made a sticky mess and without missing a beat she offered, “becoming wet from Mr. Hokkaido accident.”  I just laughed, and I am thinking just give me my damn pastry before this gets any more awkward to those of us who understand the subtle nuances of the English language.

Why is it that the most ordinary of foods over here can turn into such extraordinarily sexual adventures?  Every once in a while I appreciate a good laugh, and I keep it all in perspective.  Who in the world knows what my numerous mispronunciations of their language actually mean.  One wrong tonal utterance and a word can go from the “thank you” intended to an out of context “pig food.”

So yeah, I’ll let it all slide with Mr. Hokkaido.

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Categories: Vietnamese Food

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