While planning my first trip to Southeast Asia back in 2024, I asked my Vietnamese friend Kieu if she had any advice for me before I boarded the plane.
She gave me two priceless nuggets of wisdom.
First: carry pristine $100 bills. Apparently, wrinkled American money overseas is treated with the same suspicion as expired sushi. But that’s a story for another day.
Second: “You have to try the Vietnamese coffee.”
Now, at the time, I was hardly what one would call a coffee connoisseur. My idea of sophistication was a basic cup of joe with enough CoffeeMate to alarm a cardiologist. But Vietnam changed me, friends.
Completely.
I used to think my old hometown of Portland was serious about coffee. Portland has coffee shops the way squirrels have acorns. But Vietnam? Vietnam treats coffee the way Italy treats opera. It’s woven into the national soul.
Coffee shops are absolutely everywhere. Tiny sidewalk cafés. Trendy modern lounges. Hole-in-the-wall spots with little plastic stools designed specifically to test the flexibility of Western knees. Morning, afternoon, midnight — doesn’t matter. Somewhere in Vietnam, somebody is sipping coffee and watching traffic like it’s a spectator sport.
And honestly? It kind of is.
What surprised me most was learning that Vietnam is actually the world’s second-largest coffee exporter behind Brazil. Tea may get all the romantic press when people think about Asia, but coffee in Vietnam is practically a national religion.
The French first introduced coffee to Vietnam during the 1800s while colonizing the region. Fresh milk, however, was hard to come by in the tropical climate, so locals began using sweetened condensed milk instead.
Humanity peaked right there.
Vietnamese coffee is typically made with powerful Robusta beans — darker, bolder, and stronger than the coffee I was used to back home. Then comes the condensed milk, turning the drink into this velvety, caramel-colored masterpiece that tastes like espresso and dessert had a beautiful child together.
One sip and suddenly you’re questioning every watery gas-station coffee you’ve ever consumed in your life.
But coffee in Vietnam isn’t just about caffeine. It’s social. It’s cultural. People linger for hours over a single cup, chatting with friends, working on laptops, scrolling phones, or simply watching the endless ballet of scooters buzzing past like caffeinated hornets.
Vietnam doesn’t rush coffee.
And after a while, neither do you.
Now, while exploring Vietnam’s coffee scene, I stumbled upon something called Weasel Coffee.
This is where things took a turn.
If you’re unfamiliar with it, allow me the honor of permanently changing your relationship with beverages.
Legend has it that farmers discovered certain coffee beans tasted remarkably smoother after being eaten and — how shall I phrase this delicately? — processed by weasels.
Yes. That kind of processed.
Apparently, enzymes inside the animal ferment the beans, reducing bitterness and producing a richer, smoother flavor.
Because naturally the next logical thought after discovering animal droppings is:
“You know what? Let’s brew this.”
And somehow… it worked.
To this day, Weasel Coffee remains one of Vietnam’s most famous — and expensive — specialty coffees.
I tried it exactly once.
And I’ll admit something that pains me deeply:
It was delicious.
Unfortunately, my brain refused to cooperate with my taste buds. Every sip triggered an internal battle between “Wow, this is smooth” and “Dear God, remember where this came from.”
Some experiences change you forever.
Vietnamese coffee was one of them.
Weasel Coffee was another.
Though perhaps not in the same way.
Until next time.
