Do you remember the first time you hit a crack pipe? Yeah, me neither. I've heard, however, that drug addicts continually chase their first high, doing endless amounts of dope just to get back to that initial euphoria. Such is my relationship with Banh Mi, the lust child of French and Vietnamese cooking. I've tried them all in an effort to recapture that first bite of Nhu Y (802 Christian St., Philadelphia, PA 19147) magic. But alas, nothing gets me close to that lip-quivering blend of sweet yet savory meat, crisp vegetables, and crunchy but pillowy French bread served up by some Vietnamese dude on the outskirts of the Italian market of Philly.
And yet, I chase. After moving to Queens, I remembered that a recent "Best Thing I Ever Ate" showcasing sandwiches mentioned the Brooklyn site of Nicky's Vietnamese Sandwiches not once, but twice! Nicky's Banh Mi was going to be the Blue Magic ("Breaking Bad" reference) to my Nhu Y cloudy meth. Although the restaurant garnered a paltry 3.5 stars on Yelp, I remained unfazed. I hopped in my car, sped through town, hit a few old ladies, and parked my car, mouth watering in anticipation.
Me (with gusto): I'll have your famous sandwich!
Cashier: [Odd look.]
Me (deflated this time): The Banh Mi.
Cashier: [Rolls his eyes but acknowledges my order.]
I got my order. I reached into the bag, my hands shaking violently, and pulled out this magical sandwich. It was beautiful. It seemed to have an aura about it, a halo of some sort. Was this God himself in sandwich form? I took a bite, and another, and another, and another. Wads of chewed meat flew violently in every direction. Men cringed. Women gawked. Children ran.
And yet, as the warmth of the meat washed over my brain, I came to a painful epiphany. Nhu Y was still better. NHU Y WAS STILL @%#&$% BETTER! KHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAN!!!
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| Yes, I rubbed the other half on my pants. |
Verdict: 3.9 out of 5 Wrath of Khans (and still not better than Nhu Y)
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