My crab legs at Xin Chào come as a pair. Cracked by the kitchen, battered and deep-fried, the long, thin shells bulge with sweet coral flesh. Painted with a sticky mix of tamarind pulp, palm sugar, and fish sauce, they eat messy like barbecue ribs. I snack on them as a bar appetizer, popping shards of crust in my mouth, digging into crevices with a small fork to snag big hunks of crab.
About the time I finish my legs, a young couple get theirs. They ooh and