Crumbs, Bikes, and Bánh Mì

Why Vietnamese Street Food Belongs in Vancouver

By Samantha McLeod
For Caviar Bistro

There is something beautifully uncomplicated about Vietnamese street food.

It doesn’t try too hard. It doesn’t ask for linen napkins or three-hour sittings. It just wants to be eaten. Fresh. Bold. On the go. With the sun on your shoulders and crumbs on your shirt.

Especially bánh mì.

If you’ve ever bitten into a proper bánh mì, you know what I mean. The baguette shatters just a little when you bite in, because a good baguette should always cover your chest in crumbs. That’s the first sign of quality. The second is the sound it makes when you crack through that golden shell into warm pâté, sharp pickled vegetables, herbs, chili, and maybe some roasted lemongrass chicken or marinated tofu, depending on your mood.

It’s all balance. French technique. Vietnamese soul. Wrapped up in a loaf of air and crunch and memory.

And there may be no better city for bánh mì than Vancouver.

We live in a place made for this kind of eating. Walkable. Rideable. Seawall-benchable. Vancouver’s breezy corners and mountain-framed sky beg for something hand-held and joyful. Something that fits into a bike basket, a backpack, or one hand while the other holds your handlebars or phone.

So, we say this. Grab a bánh mì.

Grab two, even.

Tuck them beside a cold bottle of water, a couple of fresh mandarins, and if you’re anything like us, a cookie or two wrapped in paper for later. Then take to the seawall. Or the park. Or that quiet little bench near the marina where the wind moves gently through the trees.

Call it a picnic. Or a bike-nic. Or just lunch. Whatever you call it, Vietnamese street food was made for this kind of life. Unrushed. Flavourful. Slightly crumb-covered.

And if you’re nearby, we’re here at Caviar Bistro making them fresh each morning. We may not have caviar, but we do have crispy baguettes, bánh mì with heart, and the kind of street food that belongs exactly where you are.