Bánh mì Hôi-An

The Vietnamese Bánh mì has an origin story entangled in colonial pasts and cultural adaptation. The end result is a banging sandwich.

This iconic lunchtime munch has spread from the streets of Saigon to restaurants all over the world. But it’s hard to come by a good one outside Vietnam. Yesterday, I popped into Bánh mì Hôi-An in East London and gave their pork classic a go.

When the French colonised Vietnam towards the end of the 19th Century, they brought much of their food with them. Including deli meats, cheeses, milk, and coffee. Wheat couldn’t grow in the Vietnamese climate, so it had to be shipped in from Europe. And as journalist Matthew Pike states, “Only the French could afford it. They used this inequality to reinforce their notions of superiority. The locals weren’t worthy of bread.”

But after the seizing of two large German exporters in World War I, these European goods suddenly became affordable to locals and colonisers alike. And after decades of becoming accustomed to French ingredients and dishes, the European colonial regime finally ended in 1954. But left a lasting imprint that would change Vietnamese cuisine forever.

The Vietnamese took what they liked from their previous oppressors and made it their own. One notorious example is Vietnamese coffee. Which is typically served alongside the overly sweet and ridiculously indulgent condensed milk. And now that the baguette could be cheaply imported from across the globe, it was filled with more traditional local ingredients and quickly became a popular street food. Known as the Bánh mì. They had turned their painful experiences into something beautiful, redefining their food culture. The ultimate fuck you to the French.

Bánh mì Hôi-An is only open between 12 pm and 3 pm and is exclusively run by two members of staff. Nhat, the owner, who is from a village near the city Hôi-An, keeps things authentic, simple, and cheap. Serving a variation of Bánh mì sandwiches, Phó and Bún dishes, as well as rice or noodle salads.

The Vietnamese baguette is different from the classic French one. The dough mix is worked more aggressively and is baked using bread flour rather than all-purpose flour. Leaving you with a more crispy and flakey baguette altogether. Due to profit margins, Nhat exports the baguette baking duty to a local Turkish bakery, but oversees the process, ensuring standards and authentic methods are maintained.

The filling comprises a mixture of hot and cold ingredients. Thin strips of pickled carrot, fragrant coriander, and three different types of juicy and saucy pork. Slow-cooked pork shoulder, skinless pork belly, and Char-Siu pork. You’re basically in pork heaven. Some strips melt in your mouth, others have a carnivorous bite to them. The sauce which sits at the foundation of the meal brings all the ingredients together, leaving you with a fresh, versatile and exotic-tasting sandwich. You don’t feel like you’re eating something unhealthy, but it still seems like a treat. The moment brings a giddy smile to my face whilst crumbs spill down my shirt. But as you can see, I continue to get stuck in.

I wanted to know Nhat’s process of Bánh mì making, but he claims to have a long list of secret ingredients, as he gestures with his hands to an imaginary foot-long list and recipe. Surprisingly, both members of staff said they wouldn’t want too much publicity but wouldn’t mind me writing about their Vietnamese spot. They said it’s because they know it’s not everyone’s cup of tea and wouldn’t want to disappoint anyone. How humble of them. But I can’t imagine anyone who knows good Vietnamese food could be dissapointed. And as I lay on the compliments, they both seemed to open up and chill out a bit more. Slowly beginning to glow in pride of their esteemed cuisine.

When I visited Vietnam with my family back in 2016, I couldn’t get enough of the Bánh mìs. So cheap, simple and tasty. Perfect to eat on the street. My dad and I would immediately order another one after completely demolishing out first. Yesterday was the first time I had one which tasted just as good. It brought me back. I know here in London it wouldn’t be quite as low-priced, but for £8.50, it’s a pretty decent-sized and luscious lunch.

Don’t get me wrong, colonialism is a terrible thing. But it did bring us the Bánh mì. What I admire about the Vietnamese, is that they got their own back in some way. They seized a cultural and financial opportunity, bringing foreign and local ingredients together. Cultivating new dishes from a traditional and inclusive perspective.

Nhat doing his thing.

242 Graham Rd, London E8 1BP