Bánh Mì Version 2.0

Meatball bánh mì  at Bánh Mì Saigon in New York

I remember when no one in New York knew what a bánh mì was. This was a time before Instagram and Top Chef, when food porn was limited to Saveur and the weekly dose from the New York Times Dining section.  Unless you were Vietnamese or had backpacked in Vietnam, the sandwich of cold cuts, pate, and pickled vegetables was a complete unknown. 

When was this long ago time, you ask?  Only about ten years ago, actually.  My how things change.

I was in the backpacker category of the bánh mì knowledgable, though I can't say my first experience was a positive one.  Rushing to pack and get out of Saigon for an overnight bus trip, I persuaded my brother we should buy two uncertain looking sandwiches from a street vendor.  Unbeknownst to us, Ho Chi Minh was the perfect place to be picking up the sandwich, as it was there that the bánh mì, in its classic form, was invented.

Unfortunately, my brother and I broke the cardinal rule of bánh mì: eat immediately. These are not sandwiches designed to be packed away for late night snack on a long bus ride.  Most of our soggy, smelly sandwiches were left behind in a rest station trash bin.

Mackerel Bánh Mì at Num Pang

While I was living in California a few years back, I came to New York for a visit and was surprised to find the bánh mì had taken the city by storm. It seemed shops devoted to the sandwich were popping up everywhere, as with the mini-chain Baoguette.  And it appeared every Chinatown coffee shop had signs placed in the window advertising bánh mì alongside pictures of dark tapioca pearls bobbing in plastic cups of bubble tea.  (How the Taiwanese sweet milk tea drink became companions with a Vietnamese sandwich is an investigation for another time.)

A Laotian bánh mì shop opens in Tribeca

Coming back to New York a couple of years later it seemed the bánh mì had so quickly moved from obscurity into the mainstream it was already on to Phase Two: reinvention.  While walking through the Village I stumbled upon a small shop front near Union Square, Num Pang.  A look at the menu revealed a list of sandwiches that appeared similar to bánh mì but, well, different. “Pulled Duroc Pork with Honey” and “Peppercorn Catfish with House Made Sweet Soy Sauce” sounded innocuously Asian, but the rest of the sandwich ingredients- cucumber, pickled carrot, cilantro and chili mayo- put these squarely in the traditional bánh mì category.

Num Pang’s Cambodian-style bánh mì clearly hit a nerve with New Yorkers. Now, living back in the city, there are so many Num Pang locations I only need to walk two blocks from my West Village apartment when I get a craving for their Khmer sausage sandwich piled high with pickled carrot and slicked with a sheen of chili mayo.

French Dip Duck Confit bánh mì from Khe-Yosk

With Cambodian versions and Vietnamese versions it was just a matter of time before that other border country, Laos, chimed in with a version of the bánh mì.  Enter Khe-Yosk in Tribeca, a window counter opening onto the street, an offshoot of the attached fine dining Laotian restaurant. A couple weeks after the “khe-yosk” opened I stopped by for a duck confit “French dip” bánh mì.  The foie gras spread was lost to me between the rich shredded duck and bright pickled vegetables.  And though dipping the enormous sandwich into a small container of au jus was challenging, I found the unusual addition to be a nice accompaniment for the crusty loaf of French bread.

I remember when there was no bánh mì.  Now, just ten years on, I live in a New York era of so many kinds of bánh mì and restaurants that serve them, I could eat a different version every day months.  When it comes to this sandwich none was bad, some was good, and more is definitely better.

Amy Powell is a food and travel writer based in New York City. She is a graduate of Cornell University's School of Hotel Administration and the French Culinary Institute. Follow her on Twitter @amymariepowell

A Storm Diary, In Food

 New York City: Hurricane Sandy

Monday

Breakfast: Sky is eerily quiet but somehow foreboding.  (Or am I just feeling that way because of all the doom and gloom warnings on CNN?)  I make my usual 7-grain hot cereal with raisins and maple syrup.  

Coconut-Salted Caramel Cookies

Lunch: It started to rain a bit on my walk to the gym- perhaps the only place in Manhattan that is packed with people today.  Realized lunch will have to be at home.  Even though it is barely drizzling every restaurant is closed.  Even Starbucks.  Reheat curried butternut squash soup and toast a slice of Amy’s Bread's Tangy Sourdough.  Spent afternoon baking cookies to pass time with the little I could scrounge up in the pantry.  Came up with some rather delicious coconut-salted caramel thumbprint cookies.

Dinner: It’s here.  The power is out.  The wind is wild.  Something hit my window not long ago.  I know I’m not supposed to be near the windows but peaked out anyway.  My window planter is broken.  Probably just as well as not much more than moss has grown there in the last 12 months.  Not sure how long the power will be out but figure I should start eating the most perishable items.  I don a headlamp, light the gas on my stove with matches, and sear a small piece of skirt steak.  I slice the steak and eat it in front of the fireplace with tortillas and salsa verde. Beer is thankfully cold.

Tuesday 

Breakfast: Woke up to a chilly apartment. It is still windy but doesn’t appear to be raining. Still no electricity.  Should probably get started on those farm eggs.  Fry an egg and have it on the last of the sourdough with some Vermont salted butter.

Lunch: What comes between lunch and dinner? Linner? Dunch?  Anyway, I didn’t eat until 4.  Getting stir crazy, I packed a backpack and hiked the 2.25 miles to the closest gym with power.  Worked out, showered, recharged.  On the hike home, like a bright shining light from heaven, I spotted a sushi restaurant with power!  Two rolls and a Sapporo later I was feeling more like a human being. 

Dinner: Started to think about the perishables.  Boiled the rest of the eggs. Moved the cheese and the rest of the beer to the freezer (very important).  Reheated the last of some cheese and chicken enchiladas from a few nights earlier.

Wednesday

Breakfast: Poppy seed bread, a gift from John’s mom, was starting to defrost so I pulled it out.  Will be munching on this for days, I think.

Lunch: Long walk, over 3 miles, to meet my cousin for ramen in midtown. It is a different world up there in the electricity zone.  Tourists shopping, suits lunching.  Very different from vacant downtown. It was worth every step for spicy ramen with extra pork and scallions at Hide-Chan.

Curried Chickpeas with Spinach and Peas

Dinner: Made it back home just as the sun was setting.  With no streetlights probably safest to get home before dark.  It is Halloween.  Weird mix of people out on the dark streets: kids in costumes holding parent’s hands; gay couples, hands entwined dipping into the few open, candlelit bars; refugees, suitcases trailing, headed uptown to escape powerless, waterless apartments.  I lit the stove and fried up chickpeas with onions, garlic, curry, spinach, peas (last two salvaged from the leaking, defrosting freezer). Steamed rice, just enough for one.  Felt luxuriously homemade, eating by candle and firelight.

Urban Camping Food- Tuna + Hardboiled Egg

Thursday

Breakfast: More poppy seed bread and cheese (staying somewhat cool in the freezer).  Sadly tossed out two duck carcasses I had been saving to make stock.

Lunch: Hardboiled egg, tuna, rosemary crackers.  This scavenging thing is getting old.

Dinner: The hike uptown today was not so bad as the trains are now partially working.  Had a burger and sweet potato fries at PJ Clarke’s.  The staff could not have been kinder finding me a table with an outlet to charge both my phone and computer. 

Carolyn's Poppy Seed Bread and Ossau-Iraty Cheese

Friday

Breakfast: The last of the poppy seed bread and some more cheese.  As of today, I am over this urban camping thing. Think I will spend most of the day uptown. 

Lunch: Found a nice quiet table in the atrium for ticket sales at Lincoln Center.  Hot green tea, Wi-Fi, lots of other refugees graciously sharing outlets. Met friends at Landmarc in Columbus Circle and spent a sum of money I will later want to forget.  But the braised lamb sandwich with butter pickles will surely standout as one of the most comforting meals of the week. 

Dinner: Lunch kind of ran into dinner and migrated to a friend’s corporate apartment.  We reheated my leftover sandwich and some pizza. We passed pieces around while watching the Hurricane Sandy telethon.  Too many bottles of wine consumed to count.  Disobeyed my own rules, walking home in the dark, only my headlamp and some traffic guards to guide me.

Saturday

Friends celebrating the return of power at A Casa Fox

Breakfast: Let there be light!  Fired up the stove the old fashioned way to make seven grain hot cereal.  Still no hot water or heat. But electricity!  Sweet electricity.  Didn’t realize how much I needed you.

Lunch: Neighborhood is still scarily quiet.  Everyone just got power back so most restaurants are closed.  Walk for 20 minutes determining what is open.  End up at Bill’s Burger.  Getting tired of burgers and sandwiches but desperate times…. 

Dinner:  At A Casa Fox on the Lower East Side it is back to business.  A random mix of people- new friends, old, friends of friends stranded in Manhattan post-marathon cancellation.  We drink cocktails and pass plates of calamari and rice, empanadas, beef tacos.  We talk of waterless toilet strategies, the beauty of headlamps, the generosity of neighbors and gyms, the disappointment of marathons un-run, the many people less fortunate than us still waiting for help. We tie our bandana napkins in funny ways making neckerchiefs and silly hats.  We take pictures.  A snapshot of a time that none of us will soon forget. 

Amy Powell is a food and travel writer based in New York City. She is a graduate of Cornell University's School of Hotel Administration and the French Culinary Institute. Follow her on Twitter @amymariepowell

I’m Just Saying: Parm, NYC

Meatball Hero at Parm, NYC.

 To say there has been a lot of buzz about Parm, the off-shoot of much hailed Torrisi Italian Specialties in New York City, is an understatement.  In one of his first reviews on the job last month, New York Times restaurant critic Pete Wells gaveParm two stars out of four.  That is a lot of stars for what is essentially an Italian-American sandwich shop. 

I’ll be the first to admit that unlike Pete Wells, I have not eaten at Parm multiple times.  But I did eat there last weekend with my brother, and one time was enough for me to understand a few simple things about this shrine to the hero. 

1.     Service. Perhaps in an effort to stay true to its Italian-American homage, service is spotty.  The waitresses, who seem to have a thing for cat-eye glasses and orangey red lipstick, paid little attention to our table save to plop down each plate as it came up.  I will give points to the hostess who managed the flow of food tourists like a seasoned air traffic controller, calling my cellphone at a bar down the street at the precise time she said she would when a table opened up.

2.     Calamari. When it comes to calamari, I like tentacles.  For my taste, this basket had too few.  But what it lacked in tentacles it made up for in a pile of sweet fried peppers mixed with the lightly breaded, but otherwise ordinary, calamari rings.   As my brother and I sparred forks over the last peppers, I almost wished our basket had been filled with just that.   

Calamari, Parm, NYC.

3.     Chicken Parm. Close my eyes, and I could have been at any cheap-o restaurant in the country eating the chicken parm hero, complete with the acrid taste of burnt oil.  You know, that bitterness that comes from a flat top that hasn’t been cleaned well enough, or a vat of frying oil that has seen too many baskets of fried things go through it?  Yeah, our chicken tasted a bit like that.  I’m just saying… that’s not a flavor you expect in from a restaurant team that is supposedly revolutionizing Italian-American food.

4.     Meatball. And then came the meatball. The meatball hero at Parm is not of any restaurant, or planet for that matter, that I have ever encountered.  The sweet, pink, melt-in-your-mouth combination of veal, beef, and Italian sausage is a revelation in meatball making.  Juicy, tender, and pink, the meat literally melted in my mouth like butter with each bite.  I will never look at a meatball the same way again.

Can a restaurant really thrive off one star-making menu item?  The burnt oil taste of the chicken parm might be forgivable and forgettable was it not so glaringly below the high bar set by the meatball.  But given the enduring popularity of red sauce Italian restaurants in this country, I doubt this one diner’s opinion will keep the hoards away.  That meatball really is something to behold, to hold, and to lustily devour.  But as for the blah calamari and chicken parm, I could find that mediocre standard anywhere you can find an Italian restaurant in this country, probably with no wait and at a fraction of the price.  I’m just saying….

Amy Powell is a food and travel writer based in New York City. She is a graduate of Cornell University's School of Hotel Administration and the French Culinary Institute. Follow her on Twitter @amymariepowell

Step Aside Turkey, the New Sandwich has Arrived

Pastrami is for Sundays at Jewish delis with the parents. Turkey and avocado is so Los Angeles circa 2000. And don’t even get me started on the chain restaurants that think pumping out the nauseating smell of “fresh baked bread” will make me hungry for lunch.

The new sandwich has arrived. Direct from South East Asia.

Anyone who has spent time in Vietnamese immigrant enclaves searching for the best bowl of pho is probably familiar with the other street food staple, banh mi. Banh mi, perhaps the best-known South East Asian sandwich, is found on almost every city street corner in Saigon and Hanoi. There the French bread sandwich is near ubiquitous- piles of baguettes split down the middle and layered with pate, pickled vegetables and spicy chilies fill the carts of vendors and the bellies of the hungry denizens.

In America, just as banh mi is breaking out of the immigrant enclaves and into the mainstream, new chefs are already playing with the concept of the South East Asian sandwich with delicious results.

Num Pang in Manhattan is one such restaurant that is skipping over the introduction to the Asian sandwich and smacking you in the face with their bold sandwich pairings. Chef Ratha Chau styled Num Pang’s sandwiches after his Cambodian heritage- fish, meat, and vegetables are piled onto crisp and crunchy semolina mini-baguettes and smothered in Num Pang’s signature sauce, a sort of Sriracha laced mayonnaise. Shredded pickled carrots, thinly sliced cucumber, and cilantro add distinctive South East Asian flair to regular offerings like a gooey pulled pork in honey laced sauce and coconut tiger shrimp.

But it is the rotating specials that really get me excited. Just steps away from Union Square, I like to imagine that the caramelized leeks in the grilled mackerel sandwich were purchased at the farmer’s market that same day. Indeed, the restaurant does draw inspiration from its proximity to seasonal produce with a “market” gazpacho- a nice rendition of the classic summer soup with tart early season tomato flavor and a nice sweet and spicy balance that keeps it Asian- a cool accompaniment to whichever spicy, sweet, salty, tart sandwich is eaten alongside.

At The Spice Table in Downtown Los Angeles, it is bright, vinegary coleslaw in clear plastic tubs that serves as pallet cleanser for the Asian sandwich spread at this Singaporean-Vietnamese newcomer. The “Cold Cut” sandwich is a hefty version of the more typically thin banh mi. A long baguette is layered with pate, ham, and headcheese, stuffed with pickled carrots and daikon, cucumber, cilantro leaves, and spicy jalapeno slices. A recent visit featured a rich pork belly sandwich special that was like Banh Mi 2.0. Other regular sandwich offerings like fried catfish and chicken keep most of the same fixings as the Cold Cut but add in the occasional spring of mint or hint of lemongrass. Rest assured that even if the names are a bit ordinary- chicken, meatball, cold cut- Spice Table is no Subway.

If the lines at Num Pang the brisk business and Spice Table are any indication, the citizens of New York and Los Angeles are catching on to what the people of Saigon have know for years: a sandwich just tastes better when layered with sweet, spicy, tangy South East Asian flavors. And who knows? If banh mi really is the new sandwich, maybe pate and pickled vegetables will be the new Subway special.