The Hanoi Social at The Robin Hood: 'They only went and bloody did it'

From The Bristol Sauce's newest food writer

I knew Jason was going to be a great food writer when he made a joke about the staff in Sam’s Master Grill wearing Britney mics. Many restaurant discussions later and I have been proven correct. For his inaugural mission, I sent Jason to the new Vietnamese pop-up at The Robin Hood on St Michael’s Hill. I’m sure you will enjoy this as much as he did!

~ Meg

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It might be true that I am my most authentic self in those few anticipatory moments before leaving work. Giddy at the prospect of being cooked for and being fed peaking over the horizon, we go forth into the city. Clouds newly cleared reveal Bristol in all its Friday evening hubbub. Having spent the previous eight hours in that almost jubilant state of heady chaos that only multiple espressos can bring, my colleague and I become part of that eager migratory flight between work and pub.

Laying the work day to rest at the door of your favourite boozer is definitely no new concept. Nor is it to accompany that glass of something soothing with an unfussy plate of the (usually) salty, fried and satisfying variety. Here at The Robin Hood on St Michael’s Hill, it was apparent that we had entered a space quite well-trodden and familiar with the expectant rush of famished daily-grinders.

Good sign

To make things clear: for us Eastonites, dragging oneself to the foothills of Redland for an afterwork pint is no small schlep. So, how is it that we came to be so far from home when more neighbourly (read: convenient) watering holes are by no means in short supply? The answer can be found in The Hanoi Social, a recently established Vietnamese pop-up and brainchild of chef Dennis Ray Veazey.

Walking into The Robin Hood on an early autumnal Friday evening is to be greeted as you would hope to be, the atmosphere and staff warm while a wash of conversations, buzzy and electric, become tangled with one another; many a tilted ear and can-you-repeat-thats. Nevertheless, the menu is explained to us and recommendations are offered. It doesn’t take long. There are four sandwiches on the menu and four sides. And two of those sides are fries.

For the uninitiated, when we’re talking Vietnamese food and sandwiches, it can be assumed that we’re talking about bánh mì. In the opinion of yours truly, the bánh mì may be the actual pinnacle of sandwichdom. Any amount of dispute or debate on this topic will result in me sticking my fingers in my ears whilst repeating the words “I’m not listening. I’m not listening.” There. I’ve said it. So, for The Hanoi Social to be offering up four versions of my favourite ‘things-between-bread’ it could be fair to say they had a captive audience.

Bánh Mì Hoi An featuring a hungry-looking pooch

So we ordered three of the four. The bánh mì ‘Hoi An’ (£9), named after the Vietnamese coastal town known for its tailoring and lantern-studded streets, was the closest approximation of what my idea of ‘the classic’ bánh mì would be, if there was one. Char siu pork belly, chả lụa (Vietnamese pork loaf, traditionally steamed in banana leaves) and pork paté with a copious amount of fresh coriander, pickled carrot, mayo, and the mysteriously named ‘umami-rich sauce’.

The first bite: a chorus of ‘mmmms’ giving way to an eruption of laughter. A good sign. The thing that often lets down a bánh mì in the western context is the bread. Hard to make and hard to source. This means that often an inferior bread is used as replacement or that a French-style baguette is used which, although delicious, is not traditional. And when, let’s face it, about half of what you’re eating is the bread - it makes a strong impression when done right. They only went and bloody did it. The bread here was uncommonly light, crisp, and springy; providing the perfect wrapper for its surprisingly well-balanced interior (we are talking about a three pork sandwich, after all). The char siu and chả lụa were sweet and subtle, thrown into relief by that refreshing hit of herbs and pickles in equal measure.

Are there any sandwiches that wouldn’t be improved by the addition of crispy onions?

The bánh mì ‘ga’ (£8) which came highly recommended by the staff replaced the pork offerings with a considerable helping of steamed lemongrass chicken. Aromatic but not intrusive, and very comforting. Almost certainly my favourite of the three, this is the sandwich I will be returning for.

Fighting the vegetarian corner was the bánh mì ‘chay’ (£8), which featured Chinese tofu mock duck as its star ingredient. Not overly glutinous or heavy as some meat-alternatives can be, testament to the fact China has been cooking with and eating mock-meat for centuries and that the food cultures of Vietnam and China have been intertwined for as long, at once this was both sweet, savoury and utterly delicious.

Picnic fodder of dreams

If I was to aim an acerbic eye at the menu of The Hanoi Social, it would be at the sides. We ordered the salt and pepper squid (£7) and stuffed crab claws (£7), tantalised by the promise of some high-quality, deep-fried seafood; as I forever will be.

Here, we entered more traditional pub fare which, while not entirely out of place, jarred our tastebuds slightly when compared to the more nuanced main plates. Ever-so-slightly overcooked, very salty, and tasting mainly of sriracha, these two were giving strong scampi basket when I feel we had been lured into expecting something just a little bit more refined. Understandably, we were there on a very busy Friday evening and these details can (and often do) go amiss when the pressure is on.

At the end of our meal, both of us basking outside in the failing light and admiring the view over Bristol’s city centre, the chef and one of the pub’s landlords were also out, trying to get the placement just right for a large window sticker reading: “The Hanoi Social”. I think one can assume that this will be a more permanent fixture than your average, flash in the pan, pop-up kitchen. And I for one, am glad.

All words and photos by Jason Jay Pridham

The Hanoi Social, The Robin Hood, 56 St Michael's Hill, BS2 8DX

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