The Banh Mi Shop — Restaurant in City of White Plains

Somewhere on Mamaroneck Avenue, tucked between bigger and louder places, sits The Banh Mi Shop in White Plains. If you’re not paying attention, you might just walk past it — a small black sign, simple and clear, hangs by the door, listing the shop’s name with subway-style letters. It feels oddly fitting, like the start of a quiet journey underground.

The moment I step in, I know this place is different. It isn’t just a sandwich shop; it’s a tiny museum, a love letter, a portal to a world stitched together with memories. The first thing that catches my eye is the giant graffiti on the wall — a cheerful kid in a red áo dài and conical nón lá hat, painted next to huge bubble letters shouting “WELCOME TO WHITE PLAINS!” It’s a bold, almost stubborn statement, as if insisting that this little corner belongs as much to Vietnam as it does to New York.

The details reveal themselves slowly, like pages of a book turning with the wind. There’s a row of lion dance heads grinning wildly from a wooden crate, a thick red Chinese knot hanging beside them like a heartbeat. High above the entrance, an old bicycle balances crates of mangoes and dragon fruits under a dusty nón lá, like it just rolled in from a Saigon alleyway. Photographs of bustling Vietnamese street markets hang nearby, blurred with age and affection.

The staff move quietly behind the counter. One young woman wipes down a table, her grey hoodie stitched with The Banh Mi Shop logo in a simple blue font, like a badge of belonging. The cash register is guarded by small golden tokens of luck: a waving Maneki-neko cat, a golden sycee overflowing with coins, and a tiny ship sailing in a glass case — emblems of prosperity, travel, safe passage.

Against one wall, the tables tell their own quiet story. One table is a mosaic of old U.S. pennies, catching the light like a field of copper sunflowers. Another has a strip of world currencies laminated under glass — Vietnamese dong, Korean won, old French francs, Israeli shekels — as if each diner leaves a little bit of another world behind. Near the window, an old, bulbous white iMac G4 sits like a fossil from a lost future, beside a vintage children’s book titled What Do People Do All Day?, half-hidden under the glass shelf.

Even the small details don’t feel accidental. On a shelf, tiny models of traditional Vietnamese instruments rest in a suitcase lined with red velvet. The walls speak softly, offering a small description of Pho, explaining its journey from Hanoi’s streets to American homes. A stack of yellow Café du Monde cans — coffee and chicory — builds a golden fortress by the counter, linking New Orleans and Vietnam in one unbroken circle.

You’ll need to know one more thing: they only take cash. No cards, no phone apps, no tapping or swiping. It feels almost right, like the place is drawing a line between itself and the rest of the world — slower, more deliberate, asking you to be just a little more prepared, a little more present.

And then, there’s the food.

I ordered the marinated sliced pork bánh mì, and when it came, it felt almost too simple: a brown paper box, a neatly tucked sandwich, the smell of grilled meat and pickled vegetables rising into the warm, cluttered air. The bite was everything at once — crispy bread, juicy pork, the briny snap of pickled carrots. It wasn’t exactly a traditional bánh mì — the flavor leaned more toward a Texan barbecue sandwich, thick and smoky — but somehow it worked. It was hearty, straightforward, like the shop itself. Less Saigon street cart, more American dream whispered through a cracked kitchen window.

There was no music playing. Only the occasional clink of coins, the soft buzz of conversations, the hum of the street outside pushing faintly against the glass door. Time felt heavy, but not unpleasant. Like it had agreed to slow down, just for a little while, inside this small, fiercely loved corner of the world.

And when I left, stepping back into the sharp light of White Plains, I carried the sandwich’s warmth with me. Like a secret folded into my...

My recent experience at The Bánh Mì Shop was nothing short of exceptional. It was a busy afternoon, which speaks to how popular this place is, but the lines moved quickly, and the wait didn’t feel long at all. This place is always immaculately clean, and the staff are incredibly friendly, which is one of the reasons for all the repeat customers. Today, I had the fried shrimp rolls as an appetizer. The wrapper was golden and crispy, the shrimp perfectly sized (and clean!), making it a tasty start to my meal. The chili sauce added just the right amount of sweet and spicy flavor to the shrimp rolls. For my main dish, I had the popular Grilled Short Ribs Bánh Mì. The baguette was light and crispy on the outside, and soft as you bite into it. The baguettes here are consistently fresh. The short ribs had the perfect seasoning, and the vegetables were fresh and crunchy. The sauce added just the right amount of spice—the heat wasn’t overwhelming, but it complemented the ribs and vegetables beautifully. This sandwich had a generous portion of ribs, and you definitely get your money’s worth in terms of serving size. I can’t compliment this delicious sandwich enough. I highly recommend this place for anyone looking for an exceptional...

I wanted a Bahn Mi. Turned out that there was a place that made just that in White Plains. It was noon time so I had only a 15-20 minute drive. The immediate area is meter street parking only. Scored a spot one block over. I went inside and the ambiance was quiet, well lit, and furnished with what you would imagine as Vietnamese knick knacks. There's a nicely painted mural to the right. There were counter tops and stools inside however they were not set up for customer seating. The two young ladies manning the register promptly took my order without issue. Of note is that the menu is simple and easy to understand. Initially I wanted the original Bahn Mi as a benchmark meal. I saw the catfish Bahn Mi and I said to myself "What Diet?". I went ahead and got both types. The catfish was cut thin and was a bit chewy but wasn't over seasoned and the cucumber and carrots was nice and fresh. The French bread was crunchy on the outside and chewy on the inside. Great bread. The Original was tasty and pork and pate were not salty at all just flavorful. The cilantro, carrots and radish crunchy and tasty. Overall a great Bahn Mi place if you're in the mood for one. FYI: it's a...