Bahn mi, oh my

Kim’s Vietnamese
1008 J Street
(916) 448-8922

Kim’s Vietnamese’s rating:

Star Ginger
3101 Folsom Boulevard
(916) 231-8888

Star Ginger’s rating:

Duc Huong
6825 Stockton Boulevard
(916) 428-1188

Duc Huong’s rating:

Thanh Huong
6901 Stockton Boulevard
(916) 393-9999

Thanh Huong’s rating:

There’s a crowd that doesn’t believe in coincidence. Their view is that for whatever reason, random flashes of congruity occur now and again without purpose. Whether they’re right or predetermined trajectories inevitably do intersect is too weighty a topic for this space. But it’s still a shocker to hear a speech by Lou at Zen Sushi in Midtown about the need for a downtown Sacramento banh mi counter without him knowing that it comes in the midst of several weeks of my education-by-ingestion of the iconic Vietnamese sandwiches. So, Lou waxes poetic about the housed-in-a-baguette slices of meat, slathered mayo and pate, svelte cucumber spears and jalapeños strewn with cilantro and do chua—pickled strands of daikon and carrot—as well would anyone who has sampled the same.

But he doesn’t know that Sacramento is home to many purveyors of this delicious meal. So Lou is told that Star Ginger, Mai Pham’s joint (3101 Folsom Boulevard), has five types of banh mi at lunch and banh mi sliders on the dinner menu, which with their diminutive circular buns and an $8.75 price tag seem antithetic to the banh mi tradition on a number of levels. They have the same classic banh mi taste, however. There’s no thit nguoi or cha ca filled baguettes—ham/headcheese and fish patties, respectively—here at Star Ginger. Lou is also unaware that the cramped and always-crowded Kim’s Vietnamese offers a scant two banh mi options, teriyaki chicken and pork. The “mi” is pronounced me. And “banh” is closest in sound to bun, which is apt since banh roughly translates into bread, and Kim’s banh mi stands erect in its paper-lined red-plastic basket, but, echoing its roots as an on-the-street offering, banh mi more commonly is presented laid on its side, wrapped in white paper, and secured with a rubber band. The sandwich is a meal for $3.75. While not as gargantuan as tortas, one banh mi is plenty. Folks who speak of them as a snack are foolhardy. Two banh mi can be consumed in one sitting—and God knows the temptation tantalizes—but, inevitably, be prepared to waddle home. Odds are long Kim’s bread is baked in the teensy restaurant, but still charges $1 to $1.50 more than a comparable sized sandwich on Stockton Boulevard, where the French roll is of more recent vintage.

On the subject of Stockton Boulevard, Lou is a habitué of Huong Lan Sandwiches but its merits, and those of Long Sandwich, have already been chronicled here. On the other side of Stockton is Duc Huong, a new takeaway place permeated by the smell of fresh bread and its eight versions of banh mi that clock in around $2.75. There’s also banh flan, a vanilla-sweet custard that looks like a giant, jiggling caramel-and-cream colored eye. There is also Thanh Huong, which features 11 banh mi variants. First choice—as it should be with all untested Vietnamese places—is the house special. Thanh Huong’s banh mit dac biet has it all except fish patties and sardines. The sardines, anchoring their own banh mi, taste more like tuna. The dac biet features chewy headcheese, ham, ga—chicken—and several types of pork (including a barbecued variation). There’s so much meat that the cilantro, do chuac, jalapeños and cuke spears aren’t enough to fully counter the dryness of the meat. At $2.50, however, far more crimes must be committed to knock the dac biet from the pole position.

Here’s a dare: Take a walk on the weird side and wash it down with a Hong Van Basil Seed Drink. So, yeah, more downtown options would be swell but, in the short term, how about daily downtown sales—from three-wheeler bikes plying the central city, for example—by creators of the banh mi mecca on Stockton.