Where: Xuan Banh Cuon, 232 Hampshire Road Sunshine
What: A hearty introduction to northern Vietnamese dishes I’d never had before
Who: Dancing Queen, Tea Siren
Bloat score: 0 – Living the dream
On the way back from a nature gal expedition to Lerderderg Gorge (I do not recommend if you, like me, are afraid of river crossings), Dancing Queen and Tea Siren – who both last appeared in this review of Burger Shurger – indulged my wish to visit Xuan Banh Cuon in Sunshine.
If my preliminary google search is anything to go by, this place was extensively blogged about and reviewed between 2013–2015 so this may be old news for most, but if you, like me, were a hapless fool who didn’t venture far beyond where you lived and haven’t yet visited, I can’t recommend it enough. (What perusing old reviews also revealed are the barely changed prices at Xuan Banh Cuon, despite numerous years having passed and this ~cost of living crisis we find ourselves in.)
This family-run Sunshine institution is named after, and famous for, its bánh cuốn – which translates from Vietnamese to mean ‘rolled cakes’. Originating in northern Vietnam and often eaten for breakfast, these rolls are made from a fermented rice batter that’s freshly steamed over cloth to form thin sheets. They’re traditionally filled with pork, onion, jicama and mushrooms – though at Xuan Banh Cuon, the fillings ranged from a shrimp hash brown and pork meat loaf to prawns and vegetables. This interesting piece delves into regional variations of bánh cuốn.
We ordered the bánh cuốn nhân ($13) with the original pork filling for sharing. They arrived garnished with a heap of housemade pounded dried pork floss and crescents of sticky fried shallots, with thinly sliced chả lụa, a type of Vietnamese pork sausage sitting to the side (I availed myself of a sliver and it was very tasty).
Before the bánh cuốn had arrived, we were served a plate of shredded lettuce, mint, bean sprouts and coriander – traditional accompaniments to bánh cuốn, though we weren’t entirely sure how to eat them all together (I took to picking up the bánh cuốn with my chopsticks and topping it with some lettuce and coriander).
The freshly steamed translucent wrappers were incredibly delicate, slippery and creased at their edges, while the minced pork and springy wood ear mushrooms within the wrappers were subtle and mildly seasoned. I really enjoyed my first bánh cuốn experience – they were fresh and light, and if you wanted some extra tang or heat, you could dip your steamed wrappers into the accompanying nước chắm (Vietnamese dipping sauce rich with fish sauce, lime juice and chilli). Bánh cuốn is best eaten fresh and it’s believed the thinner the steamed wrappers are, the more experienced and skilled the chef is (Xuan Banh Cuon’s were exceptionally thin).
It was only after we ordered our second plate, a serve of phở cuốn thịt bò (pho noodles wrapped around sauteed beef – $15) to share among us, that we realised our mistake. These were far heftier than the delicate bánh cuốn and coupled with the bowls of noodles we’d each ordered ourselves, we realised it’d be a struggle to finish them. Dancing Queen and I ended up splitting the leftovers between us and taking them home.
Phở cuốn is a common street snack from Hanoi. The fresh rice noodle sheets used to make these rolls are also used to make pho, hence their name. The story goes that a pho shop in Hanoi ran out of broth and so the owner came up with a way to use the few remaining noodles to roll around meat and herbs – giving birth to phở cuốn, a contemporary iteration of pho.
I really enjoyed the phở cuốn too – more solid than bánh cuốn but just as fresh with shredded slivers of lettuce and carrot within, these tasted more familiar to me.
It was a supremely chilly day and Xuan Banh Cuon wasn’t all that well-heated, so we were in the mood for piping hot broths. I’d heard great things about Xuon Banh Cuon’s red speciality noodles, and couldn’t go past the bowl of Bánh đa đỏ Riêu Cua Chả Cá ($15), which featured these noodles in a broth with crab paste and housemade fish cakes. The same crabs that are boiled, pounded and formed into loose meatballs feature in this dish and several others on the menu.
Banh da are caramel-coloured rice noodles with a bite. They are usually wide and flat, and may come in rugged textures. Compared to white rice noodles, these wide, flat noodles are subtly more complex with a wheaty flavour, earthiness and springy elasticity.
They’re native to the port city of Hai Phong – where the restaurant’s owners, the Xuân family, are from – and are often eaten for breakfast, but have since migrated to other regions of Vietnam. Bánh Đa Cua (crab paste noodles) is to Hai Phong what phờ is to Hanoi, bún bò huế is to Hue and hủ tiếu is to Saigon.
The tomatoey, slightly tart pork-based broth was unlike anything I’d had before, and a world away from the other Vietnamese soups I’d tried (i.e. phờ and bún bò huế – my Vietnamese soup repertoire be limited). There were so many varying components to this complex, multifaceted dish – crab meat, pork balls, chả lụa sausage, ground pork wrapped in betel leaves (chả lá lốt), tofu, a smattering of spring onions and coriander. I indulgently polished this off and continued eating way past the point of fullness.
Dancing Queen had the Bún Riêu Cua Chả Cá ($15), a dish somewhat similar to mine except instead of banh da noodles, it used rice vermicelli. Bún riêu comes in several varieties – bún riêu cua (minced crab), bún riêu cá (fish) and bún riêu ốc (snail).
A traditional bún riêu features freshwater crabs pounded into a paste which is then strained; the liquid is then used as the base for the soup alongside tomatoes, while the solids are the basis for the riêu i.e. meatballs. The tomatoey broth commonly has tamarind paste, fermented shrimp paste, fried tofu, rice vinegars, annatto seeds that gives the broth its crimson tinge, and congealed pig’s blood in certain instances. It’s typically a sour soup – Dancing Queen enjoyed its tartness.
Tea Siren went down a different route and ordered the Mì Gà Chiên Giòn, an egg noodle soup with crispy chicken served on the side. She was sated by this warm, comforting dish.
It was a joy to delve into regional variations of Vietnamese food I’d never encountered before – I can’t wait to revisit Xuan Banh Cuon for their namesake dish and perhaps to try a few new dishes. I can’t leave a bowl of broth without at least trying to finish it so despite leaving with a very full stomach, I wasn’t bloated – Vietnamese is one of the cuisines friendliest towards my malfunctioning gut.
Xuan Banh Cuon is open every day from 9am to 8pm.
Whatever Floats Your Bloat 