Bánh mì

Reading through Gourmet’s recent reports on the best street food worldwide, I thought about tacos and why Paris didn’t merit mention. It was, to be fair, hardly an egregious oversight. There are half a dozen falafel stands in the historic Jewish heartland of the Marais (most famous is the Lenny-Kravitz-approved L’As du Felafel), serviceable crepe stands in parks and tourist areas and forgettable filled baguettes on nearly every commercial strip. This limited quality and variety reflects a culture which is still adapting to changing eating habits. While the midday three-courses with wine is increasingly giving way to lighter and faster fare, excellence at lunchtime is somehow not altogether expected. And consuming a meal while standing up, walking down the street or riding public transport remains suspect.

But in the city’s outer arrondissments there’s an authentic quick eat with great potential to go mainstream. It’s even served on a baguette.

Bánh mì (literally sandwich on French bread) originated mid-century in Vietnam, then under French colonial rule. At first, it was a luxurious foreign import, a baguette lined with cured meats, butter and cornichons. But after France’s ignominious retreat post ‘54 it was transformed into a thoroughly local, immensely popular, cheap meal. Baguettes had remained, and the local paté was not a huge departure from the original. The Vietnamese touches came through in the garnishes—pickled vegetables (carrot and daikon) and fresh herbs—and the inclusion of some chili heat.

Still served at street-side stalls and mobile restaurants throughout southern Vietnam, the bánh mì also migrated west during the 1960s and 1970s, providing a taste of home (and entrepreneurial opportunities) for refugees resettled in southern California, Paris or Virginia. Here, it has undergone another series of adaptations, spurred by ingredient availability and acculturation. As well as the classic paté, fillings now include Chinese-style roasted pork, chicken, meatballs, even sometimes tofu. And some are experimenting with upmarket or avant-garde treatments. But whether in Belleville or Brooklyn, the bánh mì remains the quintessential lunch on the go: available for a handful of change in a fluorescent-lit setting ill-suited to lingering.

Real estate may be the only thing preventing the bánh mì from dominating lunchtime trade. Here in Paris, it can just be found in the two “Chinatowns”, each a good 20 minute journey from the city’s commercial heart. The physical proximity of Manhattan’s Chinatown to downtown offices makes the bánh mì more accessible to New Yorkers, though I’ve never seen one above 14^th Street. And in London, the search for a bánh mì would likely extend until afternoon tea.

For now the answer—which also conveniently resolves any qualms about eating super-cheap meat—is to make it at home. But should anyone be looking for a new business partner, remember who gave you the idea.

Bánh mì

Outside of Vietnamese population centres, it’s almost impossible to find made-for-purpose baguettes: slim, light and constructed partially with rice flour. Here, though, otherwise inferior fluffy baguettes come into their fore. If necessary, crisp them before serving and/or remove a bit of the interior. And while I’ve only encountered chicken bánh mì with plain steamed meat, the marinade ingredients are all used in other Vietnamese poultry dishes.

Adapted from Food Woolf and The Traveler’s Lunchbox
Serves 2
Total time: 2-4 hours; Active time: 30 minutes
Special equipment: mortar and pestle

Chicken
2 chicken breasts
1/3 star anise flower
1 large clove garlic
1 small finger ginger
Pinch 5 spice powder
Chili (dried or fresh, to taste)
1 heaping tbsp brown sugar
2 tbsp fish sauce (nam pla)
Splash rice vinegar

Sandwich and Filling
2 small carrots
1/8 cup rice vinegar
1 tbsp brown sugar
1/2 cucumber
1 baguette
Mayonnaise (to taste)
Sricha chili sauce (to taste)
Small handful cilantro (coriander)
Lime juice

In advance:
Rinse chicken breasts, remove any skin and/or fat and place on a large plate or shallow dish.

Using the mortar and pestle, grind the star anise finely. Peel the ginger and garlic and chop the ginger coarsely. Add and grind. (You may find that coarse salt helps the mixture to coalesce) Mix in a pinch of five spice powder. If using dried chili, add to paste and grind. Fresh chili can be chopped finely and then combined. Stir in brown sugar, fish sauce and rice vinegar. Taste for a sweet-salty-sour balance.

Pour marinade over chicken, turning to coat. Cover and refrigerate.

Grate the carrot coarsely using a grater or food processor. Combine rice vinegar and sugar in a large bowl, adding about ½ cup body-temperature tap water. Stir to dissolve. Add carrots, stir and refrigerate.

Just before eating:
Heat grill or grill pan on a medium-high heat. Remove chicken from marinade and cook, turning when firm and cooked. Remove from heat and let rest for at least 5 minutes. Slice into cubes or strips.

Cut cucumber into long, thin strips. Slice baguette in half, opening up to make 2 sandwiches. Place desired quantity of mayonnaise in a small bowl. Season with Sricha and spread on bread. Drain carrots and add to sandwich, along with sliced cucumber. Tear or cut coriander into small sprigs, discarding stalks. Add chicken to the sandwich. Finish with coriander and a good squeeze of lime juice.

Pan Bagnat

John Ash tells of being invited for lunch by the great food writer MFK Fisher. As they chatted, she prepared a large sandwich, wrapped it tightly and handed it to him with instructions to sit upon it until it was time to eat. After an hour or so it was retrieved from its resting place and served in thin, neat slices with cornichons and Californian Pinot Noir.

According to Ash, lunch that day was a ham and cheese sandwich, bound together with a tangy mix of mayonnaise and mustard. But it seems likely that Fisher, who spent many years living in the south of France, borrowed the melding technique from the classic Nicoise sandwich, pan bagnat. Best translated as "bathed bread", a pan bagnat sandwiches tinned fish, hard-boiled egg, tomato and condiments in a large roll, using weights, time and good amount of olive oil to turn the whole into a deliciously marinated mess.

Sturdy and able to keep, pan bagnat makes perfect picnic food. So when the idea emerged to spend an afternoon cycling in the parks surrounding the Chateau de Versailles, I knew exactly what we'd be having for lunch. By chance, the one local bakery selling ciabatta had reopened the previous day, and we had discovered a particularly tasty brand of oil-packed anchovies. I made the sandwiches early in the morning, layering on the tuna and anchovies, egg and sliced tomato and seasoning with herbes de provence, the remaining oil and a splash of lemon juice. Double-wrapped, the sandwiches went into my backpack under 4 bottles of water and other paraphernalia. By the time we had dragged the bikes out to Versailles and found a sunny spot facing the Chateau, they were nicely squashed and moist throughout.

I was distracted from taking photos by the swarm of alcoholic wasps who also attended our picnic, eventually meeting their demise in a half-bottle of Saumur Rouge. But the sandwiches, along with what wine we could retrieve and a bag of Reine Claudes, provided sufficient ballast for several hours of charging through the woods and gaping at the grandeur.

Pan Bagnat
Adapted from the New York Times
Serves 2
Active time: 30 minutes; Total time 3-10 hours

2 portion-sized or 1 large ciabatta, either olive or plain (substitute a small white country loaf)
1 medium-size tin tuna packed in olive oil
1 small or medium tin of anchovies packed in olive oil
1 tomato
Small handful olives (optional)
Basil leaves or a small handful of rocket (optional)
Herbes de provence
Lemon juice
Olive oil
Salt and pepper

Hard-boil eggs according to preferred method. Split the ciabatta, removing a bit of the interior if desired. Open the cans of fish. Spoon a bit of the residual oil onto the bread. Add the tuna, followed by the anchovies. Slice the tomato and place on top. Stone the olives, cut in half and add.

Once sufficiently cool, peel eggs, slice and add to fish and tomato. Top with leaves. Season to taste with herbes de provence, lemon juice, olive oil and salt and pepper.

Wrap sandwiches in a double layer of foil, place on a plate and refrigerate, using a heavy pan or some canned goods to compress. Bring to room temperature before serving. Sandwiches will keep for at least a few hours outside the refrigerator.