THIS ARTICLE IS ADAPTED FROM THE DECEMBER 3, 2022, EDITION OF GASTRO OBSCURA’S FAVORITE THINGS NEWSLETTER. YOU CAN SIGN UP HERE.
When I was a 22-year-old teaching English in Wuhan, China, I spent almost every Saturday night at a punk club in the Wuchang district. The joint never really got going until midnight, by which time the dance floor was sticky with spilled baijiu and the dive bar next door was spilling into the street. By the time I staggered out at the tail end of the night, I was a real mess—but more importantly, I was hungry.
Luckily, Wuhan has a long history of serving excellent food at odd hours. The city’s famous re bro mian (“hot dry noodles”) don’t make an appearance until dawn, but the hawkers grill up the rou chuan—lamb skewers liberally dusted with cumin and chile —had a sixth sense for pulling up right when the revelers were rolling out.
Although originally from Xinjiang province, the skewers are popular around China, especially in Beijing (where they’re known as chuan’rwith the hard Beijing r). They’re great as a snack at any time, but at a certain point in the night, the alchemical combination of charred animal fat, smoke, spices, and salt is nothing short of transcendent.
Science has told us that nothing can really save you from a hangover, but certain foods definitely seem to help—or at least feel destined to pair with booze. After I moved to Bangkok, I swapped the chuan for hoy tod (an oyster slathered omelet with hot sauce), gai tod hat yai (shatteringly crisp fried chicken), and bowls of kuay teow reua (“boat noodles” made fragrant with star anise and rich with pig’s blood). In Berlin, my order became ein Doner mit allesthe kebab born in the city’s Turkish-German diaspora, served with all the fixings.
Even since moving to New York, my late-night eats have shifted with neighborhoods and boroughs. I never got the appeal of New York–style pizza until I moved around the corner from a slice shop that stays open until 4 am
While living on Mott Street, in the heart of Manhattan’s Chinatown, my nights ended in tangles of taxi-yellow lo mein topped with Cantonese-style roast duck or once, in a memorable (but delicious) misorder based on a drunk friend’s attempt at Mandarin , a platter of garlicky snails in a subterranean dining room.
Because the neighborhood was hit so hard financially during the pandemic, many of Chinatown’s iconic after-hours spots are now closing early. As grateful as I am to see them still there, it hurts to imagine that those feasts in the liminal space before sunrise might be gone.
Because so many cities have their own drinking foods, powerful, Pavlovian connections form between our most memorable nights and the dishes that fuel us through them. Drinking food has become a point of pride for the places that serve them, partly because our associations feel so personal with them.
Q&A With Jimmy Lee
For Jimmy Ly, the chef-owner of Monsieur Vo in New York’s East Village, Vietnamese drinking-food culture feels especially personal. Born and raised in Queens, Ly grew up with one foot culturally in New York and one in Vietnam.
His menu at Monsieur Vo is an homage to ăn nhậu, or Vietnamese gastropub culture, as well as the kind of flavor-charged fare his dad used to serve at dinner parties in their home when the top-shelf cognac came out. I spoke with Ly about trying to stave off hangovers, being the life of the party, and craving com chay. Below is our conversation, which has been edited for length and clarity.
How would you characterize Vietnamese drinking foods?
Every culture has its drinking foods. I think in Vietnamese culture, it leans more towards the pungent flavors—more anchovies, more fermented fish. My dad would start off [his parties] with a lot of fried dishes. There were shrimp fritters, which are great for absorbing alcohol.
Fermentation is always a thing in Vietnamese drinking culture. So in dishes like our salads, it gets really wild. My dad made one salad with mango, chile, and little fermented soft-shell crabs. It was pungent and salty and sweet all at the same time.
You’ve said that your dad was a big inspiration when he came to Monsieur Vo. How did he factor into your menu development?
For months, I leaned really heavily on my upbringing and my experience. I had a lot of talks with my dad and
