A Very Short History of a Colonial Sandwich

Bánh Mi, a French-Vietnamese colonial fusion sandwich known around the world.

“Gooooooooooooood morning Vietnam!!”

That quote is the first thing that came to mind when I bit into my crispy pork bánh mi sandwich. The crunch from the baguette and the crackling pork coated in sriracha mayo gave me the love I needed at that moment. This deceptively simple sandwich can easily go wrong in the right hands. At Banh Mi Stable in Berlin, they perfected this sandwich. At last, I found peace from my previous embarrassing sandwich trials.

My Masochistic Sandwich Habit

At Bánh Mi Stable, they only serve 4 sandwiches. That’s it, no sides. I would easily pay 12€ because of how good it was, I was shocked when I saw the price for one sandwich being 6.50€. This is going in my top 10 sandwich list that, I guess, I just started.

The initial quote from the movie Good Morning Vietnam with legendary Robin Williams kicked in because it’s a happy scene, and it shared my feelings toward my sandwich. Then after a few more bites, I thought about the history of the bánh mi, which has an incredible story to tell.

This is a colonial sandwich. You know when you pass a restaurant that says fusion, and you kind of cringe? Well, not with this one, this is the true meaning of fusion, for better or worse. Let me tell you about it.

France disguised themselves with what seemed like a ruse by arriving in Vietnam as missionaries in the 17th century. They later established colonial rule in Vietnam in the late 19th century. With that rule, the French brought along the skill to make baguettes and other colonial things.

By 1950, nearing the end of France’s colonial rule, the Vietnamese nicknamed the rich person’s sandwich as bánh tây, which translates to “Western-style bread.” Stuffed with paté, mayo, and pickled veggies, the bánh tây became the precursor to the bánh mi which translates to “bread.”

After further dabbling with ingredients, the Vietnamese took the simple French sandwiches and made it their own. By adding sweet and crunchy vegetables, herbs, and spices, they transformed the sandwich and made it Vietnamese. It became essential Vietnamese street food.

The cultural migration of the sandwich and the explosion of its popularity can’t be understated. You could find the sandwich in Vietnamese student communities in France from the 1950s onwards. In the United States, refugees were opening restaurants and featuring dishes like the bánh mi, which had front seat for more curious diners of that era.

You can’t pretend and say the classic French sandwich of fromage, jambon, and cornichon comes close to a bánh mi. I mean, picture the two in a boxing ring. The bánh mi would be bobbing and weaving. The French jambon sandwich would be on the ropes, and go down swinging.

The surprisingly light bánh mi sandwich compared to the fat-heavy merguez sandwich, both have a rich history.

Strangely enough, that same day I not only had the banh mi, I also ended up with a “French sandwich.” A merguez sandwich, which would also be another French colonial sandwich from Algeria. It was a colony-heavy sandwich day, a sandwich museum. Yet the merguez sandwich didn’t come close to the bánh mi.

The banh mi has got it all, crunchy bread, meat, rich mayo, crisp pickles, chilies, refreshing cucumbers, and that signature cilantro. I thought I was insatiable but this sandwich proved me wrong.

Bánh mi wins by knockout!

Bánh-thây-ly yours,

The Greasy Pen.

P.S.

If you want to learn more about the bánh mi check out Andrew Lam’s “The Marvel of Bánh Mì.”