THENEWYORKER,MARCH8, 2021 9
PHOTOGRAPH BY ZACHARY ZAVISLAK FOR THE NEW YORKER; ILLUSTRATION BY JOOST SWARTE
1
TABLESFORTWO
Ha’s Đâ.c Biê.t
If there’s an image of pandemic din-
ing that will stay with me years from
now, it may be one posted on Insta-
gram by Anthony Ha and Sadie Mae
Burns for their pop-up, Ha’s Đâ.c Biê.t.
In it, the couple, who met while work-
ing at Mission Chinese Food, in 2015,
are standing at the hood of a car that’s
covered with a magnificent spread of
takeout containers. Chopsticks poised
near their mouths—Ha’s mask pulled
down to his chin, his shirt pocket stuffed
with napkins—they wear goofy, deer-
in-headlights expressions. The photo is
both pragmatic—“This could be you!
(If you wear your warmest parka and are
committed to eating on the hood of your
car),” the caption reads—and heartening:
they look, genuinely, in spite of it all, to
be having a good time.
If you’re not committed to eating on
the hood of your car, no problem: Ha
and Burns’s food, which is available for
pickup or delivery on weekends (check
@has_dac_biet on Instagram for the lo-
cation) is just as fun to eat indoors. Ha,
who started at Mission Chinese as a dish-
washer before realizing that he had an in-
terest in, and the talent for, life on the line,
is Vietnamese-American; đâ·c biê·t means
“the special” in Vietnamese. Each week-
end, the pair offer a set meal—designed
to feed one, very generously—inspired by
the food Ha grew up eating (his mother
sometimes comes in from New Jersey
to help cook), by their travels through
Vietnam, and by whatever strikes their
fancy; both are passionate, for example,
about pie. Call it Vietnamese bistro, they
told me the other day.
Last spring, my family established a
routine: Pizza Friday. If life during the
past year has been defined by monot-
ony, it’s also brought the loss of many
comforting rituals, and a need for new
ones. In January, we enjoyed the first in a
stretch of Vietnamese Saturdays. Silky-
skinned bell peppers, roasted in tomato
sauce, were stuffed with a heady mix-
ture of ground pork, duxelles (a classic
French minced-mushroom sauté, here
made with Vietnamese lemongrass and
shallots), bean-thread noodles, dill, and
cilantro. It was a knockout, and yet side
dishes threatened to steal the show: fat,
just-tender green stalks of yu choy; sticky
half-moons of caramelized Japanese egg-
plant, fragrant with fish sauce.
Every meal comes with white rice
(“always rice!” the menu assures), a rotat-
ing assortment of tart pickled vegetables
(daikon, carrot, ramps), and a pint of
rich golden broth obscuring cubes of
winter melon or kabocha squash. À-la-
carte add-ons may seem excessive, but
to skip them would be a mistake. I’m
still dreaming of a dense, crusty mini
baguette sandwiching crumbly chicken-
liver pâté, matchsticks of cucumber, and
pickled daikon and carrot, smeared in
mayo and topped with cilantro and red
Thai chili. A refreshing gỏi cá salad—
featuring crunchy shredded Savoy cab-
bage, raw onion, and fragrant herbs,
including sawtooth and basil, plus the
pungent dipping sauce nươ ́c châ ́m, fried
shallots, roasted peanuts, and a black-ses-
ame rice cracker—held up beautifully in
the fridge until lunch the next day.
Both Ha and Burns were working in
high-profile kitchens until last March.
Burns described the pre-pandemic
restaurant industry as determined by
money and status, in a way that “sort of
strips away ... ” She trailed off. “A cul-
ture,” Ha chimed in. Neither has any
plans to go back to that world. With
the exception of Ha’s mom, they’re a
two-person operation, happily and pains-
takingly sourcing seafood and vegetables
from Fulton Fish Market and Sunset
Park grocers, and sustainably produced
meat and eggs from local farmers. “We’re
improvising,” Burns laughed. “We’re a
little scrappy, and we like it.” Before they
started Ha’s Đ.âc Biê.t, they had a food
cart (originally called Mr. Fish Sauce),
from which they served such thrillingly
ambitious dishes as grilled oysters with
scallions and peanuts, and crispy-shrimp-
head lettuce wraps. When they even-
tually open their own restaurant, I can
only imagine that they’ll help redefine
the form, for the better. (Set meal $38,
à-la-carte dishes $10-$12.)
—Hannah Goldfield
