Three coffees you have not had yet

Cà phê trứng, Hà Nội, 1946

Egg coffee was born from a shortage. In 1946, with the war against the French cutting off milk supplies, a bartender at Hà Nội's Metropole hotel named Nguyễn Văn Giảng whipped egg yolk with sugar and condensed milk until it stood like a French sabayon, then floated it on strong coffee. He opened his own café on the strength of it. Café Giảng still trades in the Old Quarter, run by his family.

What it tastes like: a warm, custardy foam over a bitter base, closer to a dessert than a latte. There is no egginess to speak of, only richness. Order it when you want something to linger over, mid-morning or after food. Drink it with a spoon first, then tilt the cup.

Cà phê muối, Huế, around 2010

Salt coffee is the newest of the three and the one currently sweeping the world. The credited origin is a small café simply called Cà Phê Muối on Nguyễn Lương Bằng street in Huế, opened by a couple around 2010. The recipe stayed private for years, then the neighbours copied it, and then everyone did.

The idea is that a pinch of salt in the cream takes the edge off the coffee's bitterness and stops the condensed milk from cloying. The result reads as salted caramel without the caramel. Ours uses a salted buttermilk cold foam over a cà phê sữa đá base. Order it on a warm day, or when you think you do not like sweet coffee. It may change your mind.

Cà phê cốt dừa, the northern cafés

Coconut coffee is a Hà Nội invention of the last decade or so, made famous by the Cộng Cà Phê chain and now on menus from Hải Phòng to Sài Gòn. Coconut cream, condensed milk and ice are blended to a slush or foam, then met with phin coffee. The coconut is the body; the coffee cuts through it.

It is the most tropical thing we serve and the easiest to love at first sip. Order it in the afternoon, sitting by the glass, when the sea outside is doing its best impression of somewhere warmer.

What they have in common

Each of these is a topping over a phin brew, not a flavoured coffee. The robusta underneath is still bold, still bitter, and the cream on top is there to meet it rather than hide it. Stir if you like, but try the first sip unstirred. The contrast is the point.