I am not a huge fan of Subway Restaurants. In fact, I can't stand the distinctive smell of sweetly yeasty, half-baked bread that assaults the nostrils every time you walk by one of the fast-food outlets.
But let's be honest. We've all succumbed to a foot-long meal deal in one famished pinch or another.
Never. Ever. Again. Why would anyone in their right mind settle for an overpriced sponge stuffed with factory-roasted chicken squares after discovering the delights of banh mi ?
This Vietnamese version of the submarine sandwich is a lip-smacking legacy of French colonialism. Pronounced bun-me (or sometimes bun-my, depending on the vendor), this wholly inspired fusion creation takes a crackly-crusted Parisian demi-baguette and stacks it high with pork cold cuts, meatballs or chicken, a swipe of peppery pate, pickled slivers of carrot and daikon, crisp cucumber shards, fragrant cilantro stalks, creamy mayonnaise and hot green chili peppers. Made fresh to order, they rarely cost more than $3 to $4.
Banh mi was recently elevated to the “it” sandwich of Manhattan after The New York Times and New York Magazine both waxed poetic about the next generation of American-Vietnamese cooks who are moving this street-vendor stalwart onto hipster menus and nudging it forward with such nouveau fillings as Polish sausage, fried oysters and peppercorn skirt steak.
Here in Vancouver, most banh mi renditions are fairly traditional – with the exception of The Diamond, a funky Gastown cocktail parlour that has retrofitted the classic Ho Chi Minh hoagie with Peking duck, raisins and Asian pear.
Yet there does seem to be a local trend afoot, as these delectable sandwiches are slowly spreading outside their ethnic suburban enclaves and can now be more commonly found in the downtown core. In addition to Viet Subs mentioned below, One Saigon, across from the Law Courts (979 Hornby St.; 604-669-6764), apparently does a bustling weekday lunch trade.
Of course, not all banh mi are created equal. Vancouver's finest – procured, in my humble opinion, at Tung Hing Bakery – are still well worth the drive to the Kingsway.
AU PETIT CAFÉ
“No thank you, we don't need a story,” the manager says over the phone. Indeed, his Vietnamese sandwiches are so cult-worthy they usually sell out by early afternoon.
When we arrive on Saturday at 11:30 a.m., there is already a 15-minute lineup outside this tiny pink-hued hole in the wall, joined by a steady stream of drive-by customers who keep dashing inside to pick up their orders.
The Minh family (refugees from Vietnam) are local banh mi pioneers who started selling their Saigon subs in the early eighties, originally in Chinatown. While deliciously satisfying and wildly popular, these banh mi are simply not the best.
After consulting with the owner, I discover that the No. 2 with “homemade” ham ($3.50) actually enfolds slices of ground pork roll ( cha lua ) bought from an outside butcher. The fresh baguettes, although served soft and warm (likely steamed) are also imported from a French bakery, which explains why the restaurant runs out so quickly.
The lightly seasoned smear of pork pâté and tangle of pickled carrots are made in-house, as is the sweet egg-yolk mayonnaise. But even with a scattering of fresh onion, coriander, cucumber and peppers, the filling still feels scant.
If you're nonetheless curious, I do recommend the No. 3. ($3.50), a beautifully moist, soy-flecked meatball variation that comes with all of the above-mentioned condiments (except pâté). And don't miss the dark French coffee ($2.95), slow-dripped into a tumbler of sweet condensed milk.
VIET SUB
Opened last July, this downtown newcomer fills an inexpensive lunchtime takeout niche. And the servers here are enchantingly friendly. Unfortunately, the quality of its banh mi pales in comparison to its East End competition.
The Special Sub ($3.75) stuffs a little bit of everything into a toasted baguette that crumbles on the dry side of stale. Amid the customary slivers of daikon, carrot, onion and cilantro we find some standard Vietnamese ham, a few shreds of barbecue beef slicked in a sweet, hoisin-style sauce, a smidgen of meatball so small you can barely even detect it, and a bright pink daub of liverwurst that tastes so horrible it must have come out of a tube (and could easily be mistaken for Spam).
Crunchy? Yes. Tasty? No.
The counter clerk says the restaurant's greasy deep-fried spring rolls ($4.95) are a house specialty, but I can't in good conscience recommend that you try them.
TUNG HING BAKERY
“Bacon, ham and pork.” This is what the shop girl tells me when I ask about the three different cold cuts she is piling into the House Special Sub ($3).
What she doesn't say is that these slices of lusciously rich, smoked-ring belly, lean rolled sausage and mottled headcheese are all made in-house. So are the lashings of peppery pâté and whole-egg mayonnaise, as well as the honey-grilled sausage, shredded garlic chicken, lemongrass tofu and tender pork meatballs (slathered in a savoury tomato sauce that could rival some of the top Italian restaurants in the city), which are available in other sandwiches
She obviously needs not elaborate on the thin, crisp bread pulled out of a rack that comes straight from the oven behind her (and never runs out, not even later in the day). And it's certainly nice to see her generously pack the delicate, doughy innards with more tangy carrot, turnip, cilantro and crisp, seedless English cucumber than any other banh mi supplier we have seen.
But what's this? A glazed butter bun filled with sugary golden nectar for only 80 cents?
Later, at home, after I wolf down my banh mi and sweets, all wrapped in parchment paper bound with elastic bands, I feel like I've died and gone to heaven. She could have warned me.
Au Petit Café: 4851 Main St., 604-873-3328
Viet Sub: 542 Robson St., 604-569-3340
Tung Hing Bakery: 1198 Kingsway, 604-875-3394
