The World’s First Polish Bánh Mì Is Our Sandwich of the WeekConsider the “Greenpoint” sandwich at the new Williamsburg Vietnamese restaurant, Silent H, the world’s first Polish bánh mì. At long last, these two seemingly unfusable cuisines have fused, and no one could be happier about this blessed union than the Underground Gourmet, who yields to no one in his devotion to both Polish sausages and Vietnamese sandwiches. The “Greenpoint” is by all outward appearances a regular bánh mì (itself, of course, one of the greatest fusion dishes of all time) meticulously primped with pickled carrot, cucumber, daikon, fresh jalapeño, and cilantro. One side of the bread is slicked with pork-liver pâté, which serves nicely as a condiment rather than a filling; the other with a judicious swipe of aïoli.
Neighborhood Watch
Williamsburg: Subway Out, Silent H InConey Island : Having evicted and demolished the neighboring mini-golf course, Thor Equities neglects to renew the lease for beachside fave the Grill House. Where else are we supposed to get pretzels on hot dogs? [Gowanus Lounge]
East Village: Just in time for the 50-plus-degree weather, a Brooklyn Ice Cream Factory alum has opened a haute creamery on Avenue B near 14th Street. [DailyCandy]
Harlem: Gospel jazz comes to the Harlem Tea Room Friday night. Sure to be a wild evening. [Uptown Flavor]
Midtown East: Local prisons and the United Nations share a controversial food supplier, Aramark. Also, you’re allowed to smoke in the U.N. dining room. [Gridskipper]
West Village: Locals find a creative outlet to cope with fears of rat infestation: unchecked pun-making. [NewYorkology]
Williamsburg: Controversial Subway franchise on Bedford now up for sale. Comes with free trapper hat. [Curbed] Vinh Nguyen fulfills his dream of bringing good Vietnamese to New York, helping people pronounce his name with the opening of Silent H. (His dream of serving alcohol, on the other hand … ) [i’m not sayin, i’m just sayin]
Openings
Silent H Not Deaf to New York’s Pleas for Vietnamese“I don’t miss anything about California except Mexican food and Vietnamese food,” says Vinh Nguyen, a onetime UCLA premed who fell into the hospitality business as a bar back at Santa Monica’s legendary Father’s Office. Since moving east three years ago, Nguyen has found New York’s Vietnamese options sorely lacking, especially when compared to the home cooking of his mother, an immigrant who left school at 9 to sell street food in Hue. The problem, as he sees it, is laundry-list menus that are too hit-or-miss, combined with “atmospheres” defined by single-white-napkin dispensers and dirty bathrooms.
