For You And Bánh Mì

My older sister, Catherine, recalls that one of her fondest childhood memories is visiting the food stalls in the streets of Vũng Tàu, Vi ệt Nam (a port city southeast of what was then Sài Gòn). One of the bánh mì vendors was my uncle’s girlfriend, before they were separated by the end of the Vi ệt Nam War. Catherine remembers being excited to eat the simple yet delicious bánh mì made daily by our uncle’s girlfriend. She relished the fresh baguette and ingredients and the rare opportunity to eat Vietnamese street food. “It was just that it was fun to eat street food,” recollects Catherine. “It’s nice to grab something to go that is hot, fresh and homemade. Being poor, street food was still an occasional luxury for us.”

In our family’s first years of resettlement in the Houston area, my older brother, Byron, remembers our parents occasionally treated us to bánh mì when they could afford the luxury. He savored the Vietnamese sandwiches my parents purchased from a bánh mì vendor at Crystal Palace, a once-popular Vietnamese retail mall in Midtown, after attending mass at nearby Holy Rosary Church.

When I was a child, my mother often made us her version of bánh mì — simplistic, working class, delicious. She bought whole French baguettes and sliced each into several nearly even rolls. After placing the rolls in the oven to toast for a few minutes, she untied the strings and peeled off the aluminum foil that encased the giò (Vietnamese garlic sausage also called chả lụa) and diced it into small, rectangular pieces. She then took the baguettes from the oven, cut them open on one side and efficiently but proportionately, filled each 5-to-6-inch roll with slices of giò.

Next, she placed a few sprigs of cilantro in each roll. Finally, my mother sprinkled Maggi or light soy sauce as evenly as possible. Her bánh mì was unsophisticated in its construction and ingredients yet it was crunchy, warm, savory and tasty. It was also atypical. Short, individual baguettes are more commonly used to make bánh mì. But my mom, like many Vietnamese home cooks in Texas, sometimes adapted to what was available. Some even used delicious Mexican bolillo rolls to make Vietnamese sandwiches. Their resourcefulness and creativity in making wonderful Vietnamese dishes with the ingredients available in the United States is what makes their cuisine so unique.

BRIEF HISTORY OF BÁNH MÌ IN VIỆT NAM

Neither French cuisine nor French-influenced dishes such as bánh mì (which traditionally referred to the crispy, Vietnamese-style baguette that was the base for the sandwich) were popular in Việt Nam until the early 20th century, when French colonialism was in full force. Historian Erica Peters notes, “A turn-of-the-century (19th century) French cliché declared: ‘Rice is to Vietnamese meals what bread is to French meals.’ Bread was not meant for the Vietnamese, they said, and rice would be out of place in a French diet.”

However, Peters says, by the 1910s, French writers in Việt Nam described “widespread Vietnamese appreciation for French bread, butter and Gruyére cheese.” By the 1920s, it was commonly documented that “some Vietnamese people breakfasted on café au lait and toast.” According to Văn Đài, a French-educated Vietnamese woman, writer and anti-colonial fighter in the 1930s and 1940s, bánh mì had become the norm for breakfast among the Vietnamese. By the 1950s, Vietnamese food vendors were selling bánh mì in the streets of Sài Gòn, Vũng Tàu and other cities. Although primarily a breakfast sandwich, bánh mì became a popular and versatile sandwich that could be eaten for lunch or as an afternoon snack.

TRADITIONAL INGREDIENTS FOR BÁNH MÌ

“For the less well-off, the stall bánh mì was good enough, or perhaps even better, for it was more versatile, with more combinations,” writes historian Vũ Hồng Liên. “No fancy rolls were needed; instead a long stick of bread was cut into lengths of about 20 centimeters (8 inches) and split open. Butter, mayonnaise or paté (or all three) were spread inside, before the main ingredients were added.” These were usually a protein such as Vietnamese cured cold cuts or giò. Next, shredded carrots and pickled radish, cucumber slices, cilantro, whole or sliced red chili pepper and a little Maggi or light soy sauce were added. “The finished bánh mì was then put on a charcoal stove underneath the stall to heat up and to restore its crunchiness, before being half-wrapped in a piece of newspaper and secured with an elastic band,” adds Vũ.

James Beard Award-winning author Andrea Nguyễn notes that the cold cuts in the traditional bánh mì called đặc biệt are “typically made from pork, but sometimes chicken too, it’s the Viet equivalent of bologna (mortadella).” Nguyễn adds that it is the “Viet version of a hoagie filled with multiple meats and the whole shebang of accoutrements.”

Other popular versions include bánh mì thịt nướng (charcoal grilled pork), bánh mì xá xíu (Chinese barbecue pork) and bánh mì chay (vegetarian). Regarding bánh mì thịt nướng, Nguyễn says, “Viet cooks love to grill thinly sliced pork; it’s no wonder bánh mì thịt nướng is one of the ubiquitous options at Viet delis. The flavor is often more sweet than savory and dryish in texture.” To give thịt nướng its flavor, the grilled pork is typically marinated in fish sauce, sugar, soy sauce, lemongrass, garlic, black pepper and onions or shallots.

VIETNAMESE AMERICAN FOODWAYS: FROM VIỆT NAM TO HOUSTON

With the arrival of Vietnamese gastronomy in Houston, phở and bánh mì have become popular dishes in the Bayou City. You can find a phở restaurant or a bánh mì shop in just about every neighborhood. “The once humble, filled lengths of French baguette, Vietnamese-style, are now in serious competition with the traditional Western sandwiches,” says Vũ. Houston author Claudia Kolker deftly explains similar changes in Bayou City palates, “Houstonians really love Vietnamese food, and ... the presence of all immigrants and refugees in Houston have changed Houstonians’ perceptions of themselves.”

Despite its growing popularity and acceptance in the past two decades, not everyone agrees that bánh mì is becoming a n A merica n staple . Samantha Le, who owns and manages a Mama Mia Fusion franchise (formerly Smootea Café) in Houston says, “Surprisingly there are still a lot of Americans that have not heard or tried bánh mì even in ... Houston. We get the occasional customers that come in for teas and boba but have never had one before. I had a regular customer who came in and ordered like 50 bánh mì, cut in half for a high school that focuses on fine arts. He told me many thought it was so delicious but never had one.

Le reflects that she hopes one day bánh mì becomes equivalent to a burger. “It took me a long time to learn about making bánh mì. I enjoy the traditional [version]. It’s what we grew up with. I hope it won’t change too much. I worked hard to get the sweet and coal-like flavor of the pork.”

BURGERS TODAY, BÁNH MÌ TOMORROW?

Bánh mì is a Vietnamese food that is growing in popularity beyond the Vietnamese community. It’s becoming as common as a Reuben or po-boy. As such, it’s contributing to the growing mosaic of foodways that make up “American” cuisine, which is diverse, dynamic and oftentimes immigrant- and refugee-driven, particularly in Houston. The impact of Vietnamese cuisine over nearly half a century has added to the historically rich culinary diversity of Houston.

Food historian Donna R. Gabaccia argues that, “Rather than dismiss eating as a trivial consumer choice, Americans might do better to take our eating choices very seriously. Then we could recognize and celebrate that indeed we are what we eat — not a multi-ethnic nation, but a nation of multi-ethnics.”

Lending credence to Gabaccia’s arguments, new culinary ventures abound for an America that is multi-ethnic, advancing our palates and foodways. These cross-cultural gastronomic experiences give people the opportunity to construct new intersections of food and culture. By broadening our palates, we create new foodways, casting aside previous cultural, social and language barriers and accepting the natural fluidity between cultures. Imagine, if we expanded our minds as often as we do our palates, what other transformative wonders, possibilities and advancements would await us?