Whenever people talk about food beyond burgers, steaks and potatoes, the conversation invariably turns to one major ingredient: authenticity.

Even Portlandia has mocked travelers who come back from a trip proclaiming themselves supreme arbiters of what is authentic in a country’s cuisine. And I admit, it’s easy for us to get carried away. I attribute this to an extra layer of enjoyment that comes from going to a country and trying your best to eat as the locals do; it’s just a great experience whether you’re in New Zealand or Norway.

A 16-day trip to Vietnam provided my favorite experiences dining abroad — and not just because the food was delicious. Here’s what I learned by dining out Vietnam.

If the furniture isn’t kindergarten-sized and you don’t have a motor scooter whizzing six inches past your elbow, you’re not an authentic Vietnamese restaurant.

And holy shit, it’s fun to dine like this. You’ll spend a few meals wondering what you’ve gotten yourself into, though. I imagine after a few months it would just become my new normal. If a restaurateur in my city decided to add tiny furniture and menacing scooters in a bid for authenticity, I’d eat there all the time.

Honestly, if you can choose from more than three different items, you’re not at an authentic Vietnamese restaurant.

It’s not the variety of Western restaurants that cater to every mood and taste. If you go out with your friends, you’d all better want some form of bun cha. Locals will tell you the places that serve dishes all over the board are second-rate.

Most of the places you’ll eat in Vietnam would get shut down in a nanosecond by a health department in the United States.

Despite that, I never had any sort of food-born illness. I was 100 percent fine, which is more than I could say after eating in Logan, Utah. I don’t know what exactly this means — but it makes me wonder how much of our food sanitation hand-wringing is bureaucratic busywork versus a genuine health concern.

There are some dishes you’ll rarely see in the U.S.

Cha ca la vong is the first that comes to mind, and it’s not really a flavor profile you’d expect. I never imagined dill being a thing in Vietnamese cooking — but this dish explodes with it, in addition to big flavors from fresh turmeric and the near-ubiquitous shrimp paste. There’s an entire street in the Hanoi Old Quarter named after this stuff … which was more impressive before I found out nearly every food or consumer item has a street named after it.

Regardless, I can’t find it anywhere in my city. So I had to learn how to make it.

The motor scooter is the workhorse food delivery vehicle.

This was obvious from my first walk in Ho Chi Minh City when I saw a guy peel out on a motor scooter with one hand holding a piping-hot bowl of pho on a tray as he rode. Didn’t look like spilled a drop, either.

Meal time can get a bit repetitive.

When we were in the rural areas, we could count on some consistent fixtures: some sort of pork, some stir-fried vegetables, white rice, spring rolls and some sort of fried egg roll. It can get a bit dull, but you won’t mind too much thanks to the delicious ever-presence of lemongrass.

Yes, dog is on the menu.

As adventurous as I am in my eating (I drank a shot of rice whiskey that had aged with a dead cobra floating in it), dog is on my no-eat list. One of the locals explained that it’s not like there are dog farms raising them for meat in Vietnam. It’s more like people will sell their aging family pets to be eaten. She told me it was more a gesture of veneration, though she didn’t think it should continue — and the habit is declining. I haven’t been able to verify this online, but the Internet is not all-knowing of every cultural nuance.

If you’re worried about eating dog, just avoid restaurants referencing thịt chó. When I ran the Song Hong 10k race in Hanoi, the route took us past several restaurants advertising it.