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The City Is Getting Some Completely New Pho
Photo: Hugo Yu
When the chef Nhu Ton was in Hanoi in 2022, she rented a Vespa and lit out for the territories. While cruising around the countryside, Ton — a co-owner of Bánh, a small Vietnamese restaurant on the Upper West Side — ended up in Nam Định, about an hour and half southeast of the capital. This was her first time in the province, which, the story goes, is said to be the birthplace of pho. “There are different styles in Nam Định, but in general the soup is a lot more peppery and there’s a lot more fish sauce,” she says. Upon finding it, Ton knew what had to be done: She’d bring Nam Định to New York.
As she and her business partner, John Nguyen, soft-open their new spot, Bánh Anh Em, that pho is the centerpiece of the menu. And they’ve gone all in: In 2024, Ton returned to Nam Định to learn how to make the right pho noodles — wider in Nam Định than most of the pho found around New York — and to visit the Thế Chiều noodle-machine factory. For the restaurant, they imported one of the company’s big, long machines, which they’ve squeezed into the 1,400-square-foot space. “We barely have the room, but we’re making it work,” Nguyen says.
The machine was just the first part of the noodle puzzle. Rice was next. They couldn’t import the variety used in Nam Định, so they landed on a mix of basmati, broken rice, and leftover cooked rice. To make the noodles, they soak the basmati and broken rice overnight, mill it with the leftover cooked rice, then let it sit for another day. To test the durability, they let the noodles sit in hot broth for five-, ten-, and 15-minute increments. Eventually, they got the desired texture and chew.
Such luxurious noodles need a matching broth. Ton and Nguyen start theirs with beef bones that they wash in mẻ, rice paste that they’ve been fermenting for years to achieve a distinct sour note. The broth is cooked for 12 hours, seasoned generously with black pepper imported from Ton’s hometown of Buôn Ma Thuột, and finished with fish sauce. Other familiar aromatics like star anise are added with a light hand. The beef served with the soup is multiple cuts of brisket while a deluxe version — Đặc Biệt — comes with the addition of beef navel, tendon, tripe, and meatballs. Condiments include garlic pickled in rice vinegar and sliced onions in homemade hot sauce that’s fermented for six months. It’s the extra condiments, Nguyen says, that give the Nam Định “the distinctive characteristics of this particular style.”
But why stop at pho? They also mill rice for bánh cuốn, or rice sheets, one of the restaurant’s other specialties. They’ll have several options, including one in the style of Buôn Ma Thuột: a tower of rice sheets with grilled pork, pickled mustard greens, and shredded young mango, which you wrap and dip in fermented fish sauce cooked with pork bones. “A lot of tourists will come just to eat this,” Ton says.
These sorts of little-seen regional specialities are the draw at the original Bánh: an unconventional riff on the savory doughnut called bánh tiêu; holiday specials like bún ốc (a snail and vermicelli soup); balut in tamarind sauce. At the new space downtown, Ton and her cooks are all in on pho and bánh mì, but the reasons why are surprising. A couple years ago, Ton and Nguyen asked their Vietnamese staff, “What dishes do you miss from back home?” Most said bánh mì. “Pho and bánh mì are so popular in America. It captured my attention,” Ton says. The problem: They aren’t the real deal. Bánh Anh Em will feature styles from around the country, including Haiphong (a smaller baguette with pâté, pork floss, and chí chương hot sauce) and Nha Trang (fish cakes). They also decided to make their own bread — they’re doing noodles, so why not? — after an employee suggested it in a group chat. “We took that seriously,” Ton says.
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