La Viet, Edinburgh — What I Expected

La Viet doesn't have "bánh mì" in the name, which technically puts it outside my usual rules. But they advertise it in the window, and I took that as a sign someone in there had decided it was worth doing properly. So I made an exception. Part of the deal with an obsession is that it doesn't stay home — I was in Scotland for the better part of three weeks, and somewhere in there the hunt for a decent bánh mì turned into its own small side quest. I probably shouldn't have got my hopes up.

The bread was extremely light — so light it bordered on insubstantial, the kind of loaf that gives up the moment you bite it. There was plenty of cilantro, which I genuinely appreciated, but nowhere near enough pickled carrot to balance it. The chicken was skimpy, a few thin pieces asked to do the work of a full filling. And there was virtually no pâté or sauce to speak of, which left the whole thing tasting of almost nothing until I started raiding the condiments on the table — hot sauce, pickled garlic, whatever was within reach — just to give it a pulse.

That's the real problem. You shouldn't have to build the sandwich yourself after it's already been handed to you. A bánh mì is supposed to arrive finished — balanced, decided, complete. This one arrived as a set of ingredients still waiting for instructions. Seasoning isn't a garnish you reach for at the table; it's the whole point, settled in the kitchen by someone who cares how it lands.

It cost £10, about $18 Canadian, and for that — in a genuinely pretty room, with genuinely good service — I expected a great deal more. What I got was a sandwich that tasted like it was holding something back. As though the flavour had been prepared in the kitchen and then, at the last second, decided not to come out. It's a strange thing, a room that polished turning out a sandwich that timid.

One more thing: they wouldn't let me use the wifi. I'm noting it.

To be fair, I arrived in Edinburgh with low expectations for bánh mì, and La Viet met them precisely. There's a strange kind of honesty in that. But if you're in the city and you actually want a good one, skip this and go to Bánh Mì Brothers instead — they're cheaper, and, crucially, they season the food.

Verdict: Not Better Than Bloor Street.