Our Story:

I Resented Bánh Mì

There was a time when bánh mì felt like a burden—something I couldn’t wait to leave behind. But life has a way of bringing us full circle. Looking back, every struggle, every sacrifice, every sleepless night was shaping something deeper. Bánh Mì Ơi isn’t just a restaurant. It’s a living memory. It’s the voice of my family, the echoes of everything we endured, and a testament to love that never gave up—even when everything else fell apart.

From Loss to Labor

I was born into comfort in Saigon, the daughter of a self-made man whose world collapsed with a single stroke. Everything we had vanished overnight. But my mother—she was unshakable. With nothing but grit, she started a humble bánh mì cart outside our home. My carefree childhood vanished too, replaced by long days spent beside her, slicing vegetables until my fingers stung and my arms ached. I hated the work. I hated the struggle. But what I hated most was watching her suffer, silently, day after day. And yet, she never broke. Every sandwich, every cup of coffee, was her quiet rebellion against despair—for us.

The Promise to Never Return

Her only dream was that we’d never have to live that life. And somehow, against all odds, she made it happen. She sent us to America with hope in her eyes and pain in her hands. When I boarded that plane, I made a silent vow: to never return to bánh mì. To never go back to the smell of vinegar in my hair or the exhaustion stitched into every bite. I studied hard, earned my degree, built a life in the corporate world… but even success couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing. The pressure, the inequity, the emptiness—it all led me back to the very thing I tried to run from.

Full Circle, On My Own Terms

In 2020, I made the scariest decision of my life. I left my job and opened Bánh Mì Ơi. When my mother walked into the shop and saw me behind the counter, she cried. Not from joy. But from heartbreak. To her, it felt like I had thrown everything away. But what she didn’t see was that this time, bánh mì wasn’t survival—it was a choice. A choice to honor her sacrifices. To reclaim our story with pride. Today, Bánh Mì Ơi is not just food—it’s healing. It’s remembrance. It’s a space to give back, to celebrate culture, and to remind us all that sometimes, the things we once ran from are the very things that lead us home.