We almost died crossing the evening traffic hour streets of Saigon to get to this place. "15 to go and 1 to eat now" are the first words we hear upon arriving, and we stare at each with a smile confirming we had come to the right spot. Already lined up with locals and expats, no one ordering less than 4 banh mi. The lady warns us to go to her partner as she had a big order to fill, all the while her hands hastily making banh mi after banh mi. The way her arms swayed back and forth, slashing some pâté here and another slash of mayo there. I find myself mesmerized at the absolute perfection of her craft. I stare at her strong stance, unmoving. The fluidity of her hand motions resembled that of a sword warrior that had been through long years of training and discipline. As I sit gazed upon her, I knew this was a lady not to fuck with.