Vịt Lộn: Vietnam’s Answer to Balut

Dare to try vịt lộn – where bravery meets bold flavors!

Trứng Lộn: How It All Began

In 1827, British Ambassador John Crawfurd attended a lavish banquet hosted by the Nguyễn Dynasty in Huế. Among the many dishes, one particular delicacy caught his attention: trứng lộn (balut), which he called “hatched eggs”. He later recounted in his journal:

“It consisted of three bowls of hatched eggs. When we expressed some surprise …, one of our Cochin Chinese attendants observed, with much naivete, that hatched eggs formed a delicacy beyond the reach of the poor, and only adapted for persons of distinction. On inquiry, we, in fact, found that they cost some 30% more in the market than fresh ones. 

It seems, they always form a distinguished part of every great entertainment; and it is the practice, when invitations are given out, to set the hens to hatch. The feast takes place about the tenth or twelfth day from this period, the eggs being then considered as ripe, and exactly in the state most agreeable to the palate of a Cochin Chinese epicure.” 

(Journal of an Embassy from the Governor-general of India to the Courts of Siam and Cochin China, Asian Education Services 2000, p. 265)

So, trứng lộn were already a favorite among the Vietnamese by the early 19th century, and they certainly appeared in Vietnam even earlier. But were the eggs Crawfurd described made from chicken or duck eggs?

The Đại Nam Quấc Âm Tự Vị dictionary (Rey, Curiol & Cie, 1895, p. 583) includes the phrase “gà lộn trái vải: a chick embryo inside the egg, already formed, almost ready to hatch” under the entry for “lộn.” However, there’s no mention of “vịt lộn” (duck embryo in egg). Vietnamese folk song also has a line:

“Can you guess what dish is so fine?

A gà lộn trái vải, almost ready to shine,

And a young pigeon, plump and divine.”

Not only is it mentioned in folk poetry, but writer Vương Hồng Sển also quoted his friend, Dr. Nguyễn Ngọc Minh, praising “gà lộn trái vải” (partially developed chicken eggs at 10–11 days) as one of the “four most nourishing dishes.” Mr. Vương wrote: “These chicken eggs are unmatched in their tenderness and nutritional value. But since they’re hard to come by, people now use duck eggs instead – larger, richer, and just as nutritious.” (Sài Gòn Tạp Pí Lù, Tổng Hợp HCMC Publishing House 2012, p. 279).

Thanks to being “larger, richer, and just as nutritious”, while also more abundant and affordable, duck eggs quickly monopolized the market. Later, quail eggs joined the scene, but duck eggs have firmly held their throne as the reigning champion.

The Vietnamese classify vịt lộn (partially developed duck eggs) into three types: non (young), úp mề, and già (mature). A young egg, incubated for about half a month, reveals a small, bright crescent-like spot when held to sunlight. At 19 to 21 days, the egg reaches the úp mề stage: the bright spot expands to cover nearly half the egg, and a thin, translucent membrane encases the embryo, making this stage the most prized for its flavor. If left to mature further, the egg becomes già: the duckling is nearly fully formed, the liquid content diminishes, and only a faint, cloudy streak remains visible when examined with light. (Hoàng Anh, “Fertilized Duck Eggs and Tang Poetry,” 2013)

Some curious souls wonder why the Vietnamese ancestors chose the word “lộn” to describe developed eggs – does it come from “lộn xộn” (chaotic)? Honestly, I have no idea! Our ancestors aren’t around anymore to ask, so who knows?

The internet has its own theories, each wilder than the last. One explanation claims, “It’s because duck eggs were incubated by hens – now that’s lộn xộn!” Another jokingly suggests, “Back then, developed eggs were rare. Someone accidentally boiled an egg that had already developed into a chick or a duckling, so he cried “Lộn rồi!” (Oops, wrong one!), and the name stuck.”

Scholar Huỳnh Tịnh Của offers a more serious take: “Nói lộn hột means to speak in a tangled, confusing way.” (Đại Nam Quấc Âm Tự Vị, p. 582). Since developed eggs are partly egg and partly chick or duck, perhaps “lộn” comes from this idea of “tangled” or “confusion.”

What’s fascinating is that Northern and Southern Vietnam enjoy vịt lộn in two distinct ways.

In the North, they crack the egg in the middle, pour the contents into a bowl (often several eggs for convenience), and season it with salt, pepper, vinegar, garlic, shredded ginger, and Vietnamese coriander. It’s eaten with a normal spoon – quick and practical.

In the South, vịt lộn is served in a small cup with the larger end facing up. Diners gently tap the shell with a tiny spoon, peel back a small opening, and sip the flavorful broth. The contents are then seasoned with a mix of salt, pepper, and lime. Using the spoon, the egg is scooped directly from the shell and enjoyed alongside Vietnamese coriander. This method keeps the egg warm while preventing burned fingers.

Both styles have their own charm: the Northern way is fast and efficient, while the Southern way is cozy and hands-on.

How Vịt Lộn Spices Up Vietnamese Language

Before 1975, in Central and Southern Vietnam, vịt lộn were sold by wandering vendors rather than at fixed stalls. In Huế, bamboo baskets carrying the eggs swayed rhythmically on shoulder poles, illuminated by a flickering oil lamp that guided the way through “a drizzly, chilly winter evening in the ancient city.” Author Thanh Mạo recalls the vendors’ melodic calls, their voices stretching and echoing the final note: “Ai… trứng… lôôôn…” (Who wants… developed eggs…?). 

But here’s the twist: Vietnamese is a tonal language, and a slight change in tone can change the meaning entirely. The author couldn’t help but laugh when the vendor’s “lộn” (with a heavy tone) accidentally turned into “lồn” (with a falling tone) – a rather unfortunate slip! (From “Hồi ức về những tiếng rao vui” 2016)

A friend from Nha Trang reminisces about the warm basket of vịt lộn and the short, catchy calls from decades ago: “Ai… lộn… hông…” (Anyone… want developed eggs…?). If you weren’t a local, you might stay up all night wondering “What on earth are they selling?”

Down in the Mekong Delta, the sweet call of “Ai… dzịt lộn… hôn…” (Anyone… want developed duck eggs…?) sometimes got misheard as “Ai… dzật lộn… hôn…” (Anyone… want a fight…?), leaving more than a few startled listeners!

But wait, there’s more! Vịt lộn even inspired a tongue twister, often used by Southern girls to tease Northern boys struggling to distinguish between the “l” and “n” sounds in Vietnamese:

“Muốn ăn hột vịt lộn,

Luộc lầm hột vịt lạt,

Ăn lộn hột vịt lạt,

Luộc lại hột vịt lộn.”

(If you want partially developed duck egg,

But boil the wrong, bland eggs,

You’ll eat the wrong, bland eggs,

Then boil the developed eggs again.)

Meanwhile, in Southern Vietnam, where the “d” and “v” sounds often blend together, the idiom “ôn hoàng dịch lệ” (complaining about the unpredictable weather or mischievous kids) took a hilarious turn. One fine day, people playfully twisted it into “ôn hoàng… hột vịt lộn!” (An Chi, Rong chơi miền chữ nghĩa, Vol. 2, Tổng Hợp HCMC Publishing House 2017, p. 177)

Vietnamese folklore also believes that eating vịt lộn can “reverse bad luck” (xả xui). The word “lộn” (to reverse) symbolizes turning misfortune into good fortune. But remember: you must eat an odd number of eggs, either 1, 3, or 5 otherwise the bad luck might stick around. After eating, it’s customary to crush the eggshells to “free the duck embryo” and allow it to be reborn in its next life.

Vịt Lộn Reinvented: Bold Flavors and Creative Twists

After 2000, Vietnam’s economy flourished, and its culinary scene grew richer than ever. New dishes emerged, and vịt lộn began to transform in creative ways: stir-fried with tamarind, braised with gourd, grilled with salt and chili, and most notably vịt dữa (a boiled duck eggs that are not properly developed).

The tamarind sauce strikes a perfect balance—tangy and slightly salty, with a touch of sweetness and a gentle kick of spice. The vịt lộn tumble playfully in the sauce, mingling with scallions and cilantro in a game of culinary hide-and-seek. Each bite delivers a harmony of tender textures and satisfying chewiness, accented by the occasional crunch of roasted peanuts and the sweetness of fried shallots. A crusty baguette eagerly soaks up the sauce, joining the vịt lộn on its flavorful journey to your stomach. Before you realize it, the plate is empty, yet your mouth still craves more.

It’s a late night in Huế, with the cold night dew gently clinging to your skin. Huddled on a plastic stool, you cradle a steaming bowl of vịt lộn braised with gourd, savoring each spoonful. The warmth flows from your hands to your lips, then radiates through your body, banishing the chill and wrapping you in comfort.

Gourd and vịt lộn – two ingredients that seem unrelated but come together like soulmates. The gourd is gentle and soothing, while vịt lộn is bold and flavorful. Fragrant scallions, warming pepper, and intoxicating chili add depth. The broth is a delicate balance – light and sweet from the gourd, rich and savory from vịt lộn. How can a cold night feel so warm?

In a small earthenware bowl, a mysterious sauce made from fish sauce, salt, chili, spices, and kumquat juice gently simmered, coating vịt lộn in a glossy, honey-like glaze. Fragrant scallion oil, golden roasted peanuts, and vibrant Vietnamese coriander adorn the grilled vịt lộn, making it even more irresistible.

According to authors Vũ Phượng and Thanh Khương (Thanh Niên newspaper, November 2020), Ms. Trần Thị Kim Loan, the owner of a shop at 219C Lê Quang Sung in District 6, Ho Chi Minh City, is credited with creating vịt lộn grilled with salt and chili. In 2017, she crafted this dish using vịt lộn úp mề and a homemade sauce. Its unique and irresistible flavor quickly attracted crowds to her eatery, and soon, the dish gained popularity, spreading to provinces and cities across Vietnam.

“Ai… vịt lộn, vịt dữa, cút lộn, bắp xào… đê…!” The woman pushes her stainless steel cart slowly along the bustling street, occasionally calling out her melodic sales pitch. This is one of the newer street vendor calls that emerged in Southern urban areas in the late 2010s. Most of these vendors hail from the Mekong Delta, so their accent turns vịt vữa into vịt dữa, and over time the name hột vịt dữa stuck.

Vịt vữa refers to eggs that were incubated but didn’t develop into embryos, so they’re filtered out during the incubation process. At this stage, the egg white and yolk have blended together, giving the eggs a slightly pungent smell – though not as strong as rotten eggs.

When boiled, vịt dữa đặc turns into a solid, dense mass, while vịt dữa nước becomes creamy. Fans of vịt dữa nước praise it as the “real deal” of egg custard – rich, creamy, and as fragrant as durian. But for those who dislike it, even the smell is enough to make them shake their heads in disgust. As the Vietnamese saying goes, “Thương nhau củ ấu cũng tròn, ghét nhau bồ hòn cũng méo” (When you love someone, even a water chestnut seems round; when you hate someone, even a soapberry seems crooked).

Vịt dữa rose to fame thanks to a grafic design. In 2017, graphic designer Maxk Nguyễn spotted a handwritten sign on a street vendor’s cart in Saigon that read, “vịt lộn, vịt dữa, cút lộn”. The simple yet striking six-word sign became the inspiration for a series of graphic designs that quickly gained popularity. From that moment on, vịt dữa found itself with a growing fanbase.

Vịt lộn, a dish that sparks debate, loved by some and loathed by others, yet cherished in various forms across many countries. In Vietnam, it was once a royal delicacy, steeped in cultural significance and culinary richness. And let’s not forget: it’s also a little test of bravery. If you can conquer vịt lộn, there’s hardly anything else in this world that can faze you!

mlefood – Minh Lê