It’s all about the cilantro. Or maybe it’s the daikon. Or the crispy-crunchy-soft-all-at-once french baguette. Whatever it is, I cannot believe I’ve gone through four years steps away from this place and didn’t know about their $3 banh mis until this month. The banh mi, for those of you who have yet to discover their magic, is possibly the only good thing to come out of colonialism.
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