Tastes like caviar: worm omelette, a seasonal Vietnamese delicacy, draws diners from miles around

As autumn’s chilly winds sweep through the Vietnamese capital, anticipation grows among Hanoi’s foodies for a rare delicacy, one that’s unsuitable for the squeamish: fried worm omelettes. At a street-side stall in Hanoi’s hectic Old Quarter, a tourist hotspot famous for markets and eateries dotted along ancient streets, strangers sit shoulder to shoulder on tiny plastic stools. Inches from buzzing motorbikes and only a few metres from an ancient gate to the city, the experience of sitting here is already intimate and exhilarating. And then you see the worms. Beneath the restaurant’s metal display stand lies a container brimming with the writhing sea creatures. These unsightly worms form the key ingredient in a unique delicacy known in Vietnamese as cha ruoi. The snack is mostly eaten in Hanoi, although only at a few locations across the city. The worms – known as ragworms, or palolo worms – are not served alive, but are boiled before being fried, which helps remove their fishy flavour. As the midday rush gets closer, chefs at popular restaurant Cha Ruoi Hung Thinh fry the omelettes in batches before piling them up on the stand. Over the next hour, customers throng the place, swiftly filling the seats and even overflowing into neighbouring cafes. To make the dish, the worms are mixed together with tangerine peel, herbs, minced pork and egg before being fried in oil over an intense heat. The resulting omelette is infused with a fruity zest and a rich, caviar-like taste. The omelettes are crispy on the outside and soft in the middle and, thankfully, lose any resemblance to their most notorious and seemingly unpalatable ingredient. At Hanoi’s street stalls, the protein-rich meal, which costs a couple of dollars, comes served with bundles of rice vermicelli and a bowl of sweet-and-sour fish sauce. These extras, together with a refreshing glass of iced tea, help cut through the greasiness. Nguyen Thi Lan, a 38-year-old civil servant, travelled 10 kilometres (6 miles) with her colleagues to sample a worm omelette. “I’ve heard about this restaurant for years but this is the first time I’ve actually come here. The cha ruoi is delicious and unique. It’s mixed with eggs and some leaves, but tastes different to other kinds of grilled meat. We paid just under 700,000 Vietnamese dong [US$30] for eight people.” The restaurant’s 40-year-old chef, Bui Thi Nga says, that her family has been running the restaurant for over 30 years. “I am the third generation to sell cha ruoi,” she says. “My grandfather opened this restaurant in 1986. My mum inherited it, and then when she grew old, she asked me to run it. I am selling it because I want to preserve a traditional Hanoi dish for future generations.” Nga left an office job to work here – one she accepted after graduating from university – as there was nobody else to replace her mum. “Cha ruoi is special because it’s made from this rare ingredient,” she adds. “The worms only appear at certain times of the year and only according to the lunar calendar.” The worms appear on the ocean’s surface only on specific days related to the cycle of the moon. In Vietnam, this phenomenon usually occurs in October and November, allowing the worms to be harvested directly from the waves or from flooded fields. There was once a time when coastal farmers would leap into the sea and cast nets by hand each time the worms appeared. In recent years, they’ve started populating small lakes and even paddy fields with them. These traditional worm omelettes are not the only unusual food eaten in Vietnam – silkworm salads, deep-fried crickets, live snake hearts and fertilised duck eggs all appear on certain menus. And thanks to people like Nga, this particular delicacy, which is surprisingly sumptuous, is unlikely to disappear any time soon. “I do love the worms,” she says, reflecting after a long day of cooking. “I love them and they love me.”