Yet Vietnamese farmers quickly discovered that while Coffea arabica, the most widely cultivated coffee species in the world, didn’t grow particularly well in the country’s humid climate, another heartier variety, Coffea robusta, thrived. Eventually, boulevards in cities such as Saigon (now Ho Chi Minh City) and Hanoi became crowded with cafés where patrons would sip coffees mellowed with sweetened condensed milk, a substitution that arose due to the high cost of fresh dairy. The lasting colonial presence instilled in Vietnam a taste for coffee as it was consumed in France: strong, dark-roasted coffees brewed using a single-serve method somewhere between a French press and a pour-over. The French, who occupied Vietnam for nearly a century, introduced coffee in the mid-1800s, seeking to cultivate a crop that could fulfill a lucrative demand for beans in Europe. Why the discrepancy? Blame the long tail of colonialism and a quirk of globalization. Though not all Vietnamese coffees are created equal, many of them do share a rather unexpected trait - the vast majority of “Vietnamese coffee” in America is not made using beans from Vietnam, despite the country being the world’s second largest producer of coffee. Starbucks customers can order an ersatz version off the chain’s “secret menu”: triple espresso with a generous squirt of white mocha sauce and heavy cream. More recently, as the drink has spilled into mass-market consciousness, it’s appeared at coffee shops that might otherwise have no connection to Vietnam or Asia. It’s the crucial counterpart to a crunchy banh mi smeared with paté, or a bowl of pho heaped with fresh herbs. It’s a fixture of both mom-and-pop noodle shops and international boba chains, minuscule bakeries wedged next to laundromats and upscale fusion restaurants with fancy menus. The buzz is palpable - and that’s not just the caffeine talking.Ĭà phê sua dá - a shot of high-octane coffee mixed with sweetened condensed milk over ice - could well be described as the unofficial official beverage of Little Saigon. Recently, a wave of ambitious Orange County cafés has found new inspiration in Vietnam’s unique coffee culture, showcasing specialty roasts and reimagining traditional drinks for a local audience that is thirsty for both creativity and authenticity. Though it might lay claim to the most passionate fans, Phin Smith is not the only business elevating the conversation around Vietnamese coffee. “Not too sweet, real nice nutty after taste. “God-tier cafe sua da,” commented Ns1 on the restaurant discussion board Food Talk Central in 2019. After three years in business, the shop maintains a perfect 5-star rating on Yelp with over 900 reviews, and is often heralded in online food communities as serving the best Vietnamese coffee in Southern California. Surprisingly, that was a rarity in Little Saigon.ĭo believes that extra effort is what has set them apart with customers. They’d struck a deal with a farming company they’d encountered in Buôn Ma Thuột and were importing green coffee beans directly from Vietnam and roasting it themselves. But Do and Ngo were doing something different. On the surface, Phin Smith might have seemed like just another café on the periphery of Little Saigon, the sprawling Vietnamese American enclave in Orange County, home to more purveyors of Vietnamese coffee anywhere outside Vietnam. A few years later, at the end of 2018, they and their business partner Xuan Ton opened Phin Smith, a coffee shop on a quiet stretch of Garden Grove’s historic Main Street where every drink would be “brewed by hand” using traditional methods.
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