67: A tale of two bánh xèo
No-fun Rhirhi strikes again
Dear Bánh Xèo,
It’s not you, it’s me.
Taking a cue from master George Costanza, this is how I would start my “Dear John” letter to this much-loved Vietnamese dish.
What I thought would be a tale of me rediscovering the joy I thought I had for bánh xèo has turned out to be one of me perhaps losing it forever.
Bánh xèo in one of its forms was something I wanted to try when I travelled through Vietnam 16 years ago. And I did, in Hanoi, if my memory serves me correctly. Not exactly the hotbed for the dish, but I was a much different eater and eats researcher back then.
My server immediately knew after placing the large crepe and accoutrements in front of me that I had no idea how to eat it with the herbs and its large size. He kindly showed me the process by making my first lettuce wrap for me. I had never had anything like it and was smitten. As I had felt numerous times on that trip, I was high on the flavour and abundance of all the fresh herbs that had been largely absent from the Vietnamese food I had experienced in Alberta/prairie-based restaurants.
I honestly can’t remember if I ever had another one between 2009 and 2022. Potentially when living in Vancouver or New York, but it clearly was not one that left an impression.
My neighbourhood here in Saigon houses potentially the most famous miền-Tây-style bánh xèo spot in the city, so I was eager to try it shortly after moving in. To date, it is my least favourite dining experience living here. Not only was the bánh xèo possibly too thick and completely flavourless, or rather, it only tasted of fryer oil, but as a solo diner, I was treated like someone they didn’t want to deal with. The only time I’ve felt that here. From where they sat me to how they served me, it was all just a complete bummer. And confusing given how busy it always is and how many solo diners they certainly regularly feed. My only solace has been learning that many residents agree that it doesn’t deserve its hype.
Between then and now, I was so turned off that I think there’s only been one other. It was fine but not outstanding, certainly better to me than the famous spot. When I decided to do this tale, I wanted to try to capture the same feelings I had in 2009, so I chose two spots with good Google reviews; that have been TikTok worthy for locals; and that have been recommended by residents I trust. As always, they both are easily walkable from where I live or work.
Spoiler alert: No joy was sparked.
Because it’s not you, bánh xèo, it’s me. I’m No-fun Rhirhi.
I have no qualms about recommending these two spots because I think, empirically speaking, they make the large, miền-Tây-style crepes as they should be made. Textbook, no errors, just slight differences between them. The crepes were thin; the pork and shrimp of good quality; their size showed off the skill of the chef; and they offered a garden’s worth of varied and fresh greens. People like them for good reason.
I won’t rush back for the following.
First, I’ve come to realize that I’m not someone who loves to work for her food. I’ll eat mussels happily in something, but I will never order a steamed bowl of them. I’m not excited about the work of pinching and pulling to get them to my mouth. Give me a lobster roll, not a tail, is another example.
When I moved here, I largely ignored these feelings as I started to appreciate dishes like bánh căn or nem nướng Nha Trang that can lean on the wrap-and-dip method for eating. I can see, though, how my eating of them has sharply decreased over my residency because the “fun” aspect of the wrapping and dipping is… not fun for me. “Just lemme dip! I don’t want to have to wrap it, too,” No-fun Rhirhi sighs. I think I just get tired/bored after one or two wraps.
Bánh xèo, to me, is also a highly textural dish that is most successful when all the different ingredients are at their peak. When the lettuce is crisp; the crepe is crispy; the pork is tender; the shrimp have that slight chew; and when the herbs give way tenderly when your teeth hit them.
As much as I can sense and appreciate all of these things, a multitude of textures doesn’t much matter to me. I want all of those textures when I eat all of those things, but bringing them together doesn’t make my eyes roll back in delight. Remember I’m someone who loves the texture-less soft on soft (flan with whipped cream, for example).
So, my (unfortunate) hot take is that when I eat bánh xèo, I feel like all I really taste are the herbs and the fish sauce because everything else kind of gets lost. And I do enjoy the flavours that come through, very much so. But the effort No-fun Rhirhi has to put in to add all the other things for what amounts to more texture than flavour (for her), is deflating.
The communal — fun! — aspect of eating bánh xèo has been brought up to me, and again, I can totally appreciate how it would be fun to eat this way with others. As someone who primarily eats alone, I do understand what I miss out on, and maybe this is one of them. Flavour has become something I prioritize, and so I think in addition to the work, I just have yet to find bánh xèo with flavour that leaves me wanting more.
All of this aside, I was in no way displeased after eating these two bánh xèo and, again, fully understand why they are beloved.
Bánh Xèo 1 (BX1)
I arrived at BX1 about an hour before its listed closing time, but when I walked in, there was no one about. Cooking is at the front, seating at the back, so I could see the large pans and ingredients out as though they were still open. “Xin chào, hello?” I called out. Up popped a face from the floor in the following room. A young man was taking a nap, and so, too, it seems was his mother and main chef as she rose to come to the front. It felt awkward, comical, and totally normal.
There were a few options for filling, including some vegetarian, but I went with the đặc biệt. It contained sliced pork (maybe shoulder), shell-on shrimp, shredded young coconut, mushrooms, mung bean sprouts, and mung beans. There were no sliced chiles presented to doctor the seasoned fish sauce for dipping, and I didn’t ask. I felt grateful that they were still open despite wanting to sleep, so I focused on being as easy a customer as possible.
What was placed on the table before the bánh xèo was the largest plate of fresh greens I’ve ever had the pleasure of picking through. All the herbs you could want, plus lettuce and mustard greens. Night had fallen hours ago, but their freshness suggested they had been harvested minutes ago. There were no other customers; they were asleep; and the place had seen better days; but those greens confirmed I was in a right place.
The bánh xèo was a good size and very thin, with translucent edges. There were three shrimp and a few slices of pork, but the ingredient she wasn’t shy with were the mung bean sprouts. The shrimp were fresh, and I liked the crunch of their shells. The pork was cooked fine, but it was sliced too thin to add much texture or flavour. I felt the same about the mushrooms and coconut. In bites they were lost against the greens and any crispiness left from the crepe.
Waning crispiness is the downside to a skillfully thin bánh xèo, I’ve learned. Once the edges are gone, the top can remain somewhat crispy but steam from the inside filling starts to infiltrate it. The slower you eat, the softer your crepe becomes. The underside starts to soften once it’s set on the plate, a mat here. I can’t help but think that tonkatsu-style nets would be a boon for the crispy bánh xèo lover — or maybe they exist already?
Softening at BX1 is hastened by the large amount of sprouts, the mushrooms, and the coconut. Just too many things full of moisture. By the end, it felt very much like a meal of crisp greens and fish sauce (which had a good salty-sweet balance). The softness of the other ingredients added substance but not much flavour.
Again, it tasted good, but I think the fatigue of wrapping and the loss of extra texture just left me feeling like I didn’t “get it.” It’s not the bánh xèo, I know. It’s me. Note that I think a small appetite could handle one at BX1 as an entire meal; I needed more.
Bánh Xèo 2 (BX2)
This is a daytime-only spot that is tucked away in a teeny hẻm. There are a few tables just outside the indoor kitchen, but I’m assuming a larger, tarp-covered area with tables nearby also belongs to them. That’s what you first notice as you turn into the preceding larger alley. As I did, an older gentleman sitting there waved me in. I assume my foreign face indicated to him exactly why I had turned the corner, and he was maybe the patriarch.
There were a few friendly people bustling around in the kitchen despite it being a late lunch hour — delivery orders seemed to be the biggest occupation. I grabbed a spot at one of the tables there, as the sun was not direct. The greens in the basket were not nearly as plentiful as BX1, and I worried a little I might have to ask for more. They were just as fresh, though. The fish sauce had some pickled daikon and carrot, and when I saw fresh chiles on another table, I asked for some. I would say the fish sauce wasn’t as sweet as BX1.
There’s only one bánh xèo on the menu from what I saw, the standard you usually see, with a filling of pork, shrimp, and bean sprouts. Here they also throw in some dried, yellow mung beans. The shrimp were also shell-on, but this time the pork was belly meat. I can’t lie, I found the fatty bit too fatty. But. It was sliced thicker than BX1, and so the chewiness did add more texture. The fat also added richness that was absent from BX1. I could tell no difference between the two spots’ shrimp.
BX2 was a slightly smaller crepe, and I’m glad I supplemented with the gỏi cuốn also on the menu — the darker sauce you see in the photo is for them. BX2 was an even thinner crepe, with edges so lacey and delicate I’m not sure how they even made it to the plate. They were more enjoyable just broken off and eaten as-is. It gave me the opportunity to experience the crispiness without distraction.
Because you know what comes next. Once I started wrapping and rolling, the predominant flavours were herbs and fish sauce. With the crepe even thinner here, all its flavour was lost. Pork, shrimp, and sprouts are then again all textural for me1. I think the thinness and the lack of additional fillings helped BX2 stay crisp longer than BX1. But it’s inevitable that as you reach the middle and as the underside sits on the plate, softening still occurs. Those few extra moments of crispy texture, though, means I did enjoy BX2 more than BX1.
Make your case for miền Tây bánh xèo! Are these celebrated spots maybe not that good? Am I eating it wrong? Or is it indeed just me, and my lack of fun is more of an AITA question because I find problems in a joyous food. I can take the heat, don’t worry.
It should perhaps now be said that I will not discount that being in my mid-40s means my taste buds are starting to age, and I’m losing my ability to taste as well. Wuh wuh.
The ability to have different flavor and texture combinations is why I like the wrap it yourself aspect of this dish. I also like mine with minimal filling, you’ve pointed out the soggy coefficient correctly.
Oh ya it was kinda crispy. It's all personal preference then, texture is important to me