I’ll be upfront: Bánh doesn’t make the best bánh mì in London. Unless, that is, you want to be a nerd about it and point out that ‘bánh mì’ refers to the bread, not the sandwich. In which case, fine: Bánh makes the best bánh mì in London.
In case that was as messy to read as it was to write, let me be straightforward: the baguettes are the star at this Dalston cafe, which only opened last summer. This is one of the handful of Vietnamese sandwich spots in the city that bakes its own bread, and you can tell why: they’re really bloody good at it.
This is the ideal bánh mì baguette: short and plump, with a flaky, crisp crust that shatters at the slightest bite, with none of the crunch and resistance you’d expect from the French equivalent. The innards are soft, light, and fluffy, but compress under pressure, suddenly dense enough to hold the structure of the sandwich together.
The downside is that baking their own bread means there’s a pretty strict limit to how many sandwiches Bánh can sell each day. Rock up too late and you’ll be out of luck, so I recommend skewing to the early side.
If the baguettes do sell out then you’re not entirely out of options, as Bánh also sells rice bowls and vermicelli noodles, and phở at times too. I have a confession though: I’ve never tried any of them, and wouldn’t especially encourage you to either.
This is partly because that bread is so good that you shouldn’t order anything else. But also because that bread is so good that it makes up for the fact that what’s inside isn’t quite at the same level, and the rest of the menu won’t have that advantage.
I am a criminally boring bánh mì eater, and so routinely stick to whatever gets passed off as a classic and contains at least three kinds of pork. Here the magic number is five: char siu pork, ham hock, pork belly, pork patties, and pâté. It’s a whole lot of pig, if nothing else. Inevitably it all gets lost in the mix, and in fact the main reason I notice any particular meat is a too-fatty sliver of belly that pulls with every bite.
In fact, the Classic here comes with a surprise sixth type of pork, in the form of an unannounced flourish of pork floss: a brilliant touch that you don’t see often, a delicate sweet-savoury cloud that melts into your mouth, infusing your every taste.
For the most part, the salad is probably stronger than the pig products. There’s enough of it to deliver the crunch that the baguette purposefully doesn’t, including thick slices of red chilli that provide a hint of real heat. The pickle here is milder than I prefer though, and the sauce a little sweeter, which leaves the sandwich a bit one-note in the final reckoning.
Bánh is built primarily for take-away, but there are a few barebones tables inside if you’d rather sit and perch. That gives you the excuse to order a welcome, warming pot of jasmine tea too. In or out, Vietnamese coffee is available, but I abstain — I’ve never quite seen the point in taking bitter robusta and drowning it in condensed milk. But then, I’m as boring with my coffee as I am my bánh mì, keeping it as far as I can from either milk or sugar.
Every once in a while I’ve spotted a variety of home-baked buns on the Bánh counter, filled with coconut custard or char siu pork, but if there’s rhyme or reason to when these appear then I haven’t figured it out. These don’t quite pack the same magic as the bread, but do reinforce the sense that baking is the real strength here. I’d have a lot of time for a version of Bánh that also sold plain baguettes to take home, allowing me to make all the daft sandwiches I see fit to in the comfort of my own home, secure in the knowledge that the bread, at least, will not let me down.
I don’t want to sound too down on Bánh, because it is broadly a good time. The bread alone puts this in the upper echelons of London’s bánh mì options, though that might be to damn it with faint praise — London is a strong city for Vietnamese food but a surprisingly limited one for Vietnamese sandwiches. Importantly for me, Bánh is easily the best that delivers to my flat, which will forever guarantee it a place in my heart while I contemplate the effort required to trek out to my real favourite bánh mì spot — place your bets in the comments as to where that is.