A vegetarian food guide to Vietnam

It's 11 am, and we’ve finished touring the Imperial City — a grand complex of palaces, shrines, and gardens in Hue. We are in the historic capital of Vietnam’s Nguyen dynasty, on the banks of the Perfume River, and head to the centuries-old Dong Ba Market. Its origins date back to the early 1800s when Emperor Gia Long established the original Quy Gia Thi, long before it was rebuilt and renamed Dong Ba after the 1885 French attack.

Today, Dong Ba remains the city’s largest and most culturally rooted market. Stepping inside its bustling three-level maze is an instant window into the freshness and seasonality that define central Vietnamese cuisine: piles of dried fruits — mangoes, apricots and grapes, spices — pepper and turmeric, snacks — coconut crackers and peanut brittles and lotus tea, and, most telling of the season, heaps of sweet, juicy mangosteens, alongside guava and longan, which we buy to continue to savour at our hotel.

Hue could be the best city in Vietnam to explore vegetarian or vegan food. Phùng Khánh Yên Chi, who champions the food and culture offerings at Thanh Lich Royal Boutique Hotel, shares that Hue's vegetarian cuisine is influenced by its royal traditions and Buddhist culture emphasising on simplicity, balance, subtle flavours, and vegetarian dishes imitating meat.

This is evident in dishes like Bún Chay Huế, a vegetarian take on the city’s most famous spicy beef soup. The soup leans on vegetables and plant-based ingredients like lemongrass, pineapple, and tofu, that create a light and flavourful dish. Loaded with fresh herbs, banana blossoms, bean sprouts, and chilli, and topped with tofu, the soup arrives mildly sweet with a hint of spice. It is the most beloved among Hue’s many vegetarian dishes, and “represents spiritual purity and mindfulness, often enjoyed during Buddhist fasting days or simply as a healthy, peaceful way of eating,” says Chi.

No trip to Hue is complete without a stroll through the Hai Ba Trung night walking street. After 6 pm on weekends, it transforms into a pedestrian-only zone, buzzing with vendors, who turn footpaths into open-air eateries. Here, you’ll find everything from fresh juice and beer to traditional candies like keo chi and bò bía ngọt. Keo Chi meaning ‘thread candy’ is named for its silky, thread-like strands. Sugar and malt syrup are melted, pulled and stretched by hand, into thousands of fine threads, then sandwiched between crispy rice paper, sometimes with roasted peanuts or shredded coconut. Each bite is sweet and crunchy.

“As these are traditional street foods passed down through generations, there is no fixed recipe,” she says, adding each local vendor creates them in their own way. “For many Vietnamese, the candy is a nostalgic childhood memory as vendors sold these outside school gates, which is why it is often called Vietnam’s original childhood candy.”

There’s bo bia ngọt or sweet spring roll—soft rice paper wrapped around malt candy, shredded coconut, roasted sesame, and crushed peanuts. Chewy and fragrant, it’s cheap, easily available, and a simple evening treat enjoyed by locals, “making it a beloved part of Vietnamese street food culture,” says Chi.

With memories of Hue’s flavours still in our mind, we set out to explore Hoi An, which is 125 km away from Hue, starting with Peanuts restaurant tucked under a canopy of green in the Cẩm Châu neighbourhood.

Phuong Nguyen, the founder of Peanuts, grew up during the Đổi Mới era (1986 to the early 1990s), a period of economic and political reformation for Vietnam, following decades of war (the Vietnam War). As the country was opening its economy, many families had limited access to meat and other “luxuries.”

“Most of our meals were simple and plant-based,” says Phuong adding vegetables, peanuts, tofu, and locally-grown produce were the norm. That upbringing shaped her cooking philosophy: resourcefulness, balance, and deep appreciation for the flavours of vegetables and herbs. Those meals became the foundation for Peanuts, which she eventually launched during covid.

Her creativity shows in the plate of Miến xào Hàn Quốc chay, or vegetarian version of Korean stir-fried glass noodles. Although the name includes Korean, the dish has been embraced and adapted locally in Hoi An. Its springy texture pairs beautifully with Vietnamese-style seasonings—soy sauce, sesame oil, garlic, and fresh herbs. This family recipe reflects “how Hoi An’s food culture evolves through travel, trade and cultural exchange,” she explains.

There’s also Bánh trung thu, sesame-filled mooncakes, tied to Tết Trung Thu, or Vietnam’s Mid-Autumn Festival, celebrated on the 15th day of the 8th lunar month (this falls in September or early October on the Gregorian calendar). Mildly sweet, rich and nutty, and round like the shape of a full moon, the mooncake makes for an unexpected, but memorable end to the meal. “It celebrates family reunion, the harvest, and the full moon as a symbol of completeness,” says Phuong.

As night falls, we head to the next stop at Nguyen Hoang Street, by Hoi An’s Japanese Bridge, where the night market is in full swing, with food vendors calling out to passersby. Within minutes, a vendor whips up Bánh tráng nướng, or Vietnamese pizza, a nickname earned for its shape and preparation style.

A sheet of rice paper is grilled over charcoal, and topped with scallions, fried garlic and mayonnaise, and then sliced like pizza. “It’s a fun, modern street food that reflects the creativity of younger Vietnamese cooks,” says Phuong, “blending traditional ingredients like quail eggs, scallions, and chilli sauce with a global presentation style.” The smoky, savoury and crunchy dish reminds us of masala papad from home.

Exploring Vietnam’s street food and plant-based traditions felt like uncovering a familiar place in a new light—slow and enjoyable. And through it all, I kept thinking of the mooncake—round, whole, a symbol of reunion. Sharing this journey with my mother made me feel a sense of completeness.

Ridhi Agrawal is a freelance writer based in Nepal.