Recipes

Bánh Xèo (Vietnamese Sizzling Crepe)

The best single dish I ate in Vietnam, at a long table in Ho Chi Minh City on the evening of 19 March 2026 — and a dish I had been getting wrong in two specific ways for years. First, the name. Bánh xèo means roughly "sizzle cake", after the sound the batter makes when it hits the hot pan. It is one of the better-named foods I know of, and it tells you the pan has to be properly hot. Second, the colour. There is NO EGG in it. The batter is rice flour, coconut milk, water and turmeric, and the yellow is a spice, not a yolk. I had assumed for years it was an omelette of some kind. It is not — it is a rice-flour crepe, and it should be thin and lacy, with a translucent blistered rim you can see through. A thick, uniform, omelette-like disc means the pan was not hot enough or the batter was too heavy. And third — the one that actually changed how I eat it — the mountain of greens beside it is not a garnish. It is the cutlery. You tear off a piece of crepe, wrap it in a mustard leaf or a lettuce leaf with some herbs, dip it in nước chấm, and eat it with your hands. Serving bánh xèo without a pile of leaves is like serving a taco with no tortilla, and it explains why every plated, sprig-garnished version I had eaten in a restaurant felt faintly awkward to eat.

Vietnamese · Asian · Pork · Street Food

Bánh Xèo (Vietnamese Sizzling Crepe)
Prep 20 min, plus 30 min resting
Cook 30 min
Serves 4 (about 6 crepes)
Level Medium

The best single dish I ate in Vietnam, at a long table in Ho Chi Minh City on the evening of 19 March 2026 — and a dish I had been getting wrong in two specific ways for years.

First, the name. Bánh xèo means roughly “sizzle cake”, after the sound the batter makes when it hits the hot pan. It is one of the better-named foods I know of, and it tells you the pan has to be properly hot.

Second, the colour. There is NO EGG in it. The batter is rice flour, coconut milk, water and turmeric, and the yellow is a spice, not a yolk. I had assumed for years it was an omelette of some kind. It is not — it is a rice-flour crepe, and it should be thin and lacy, with a translucent blistered rim you can see through. A thick, uniform, omelette-like disc means the pan was not hot enough or the batter was too heavy.

And third — the one that actually changed how I eat it — the mountain of greens beside it is not a garnish. It is the cutlery. You tear off a piece of crepe, wrap it in a mustard leaf or a lettuce leaf with some herbs, dip it in nước chấm, and eat it with your hands. Serving bánh xèo without a pile of leaves is like serving a taco with no tortilla, and it explains why every plated, sprig-garnished version I had eaten in a restaurant felt faintly awkward to eat.

Ingredients

For the batter

  • 2 cups rice flour (not glutinous)
  • 2 tbsp cornstarch
  • 1 tsp ground turmeric
  • 1/2 tsp salt
  • 1 can (13.5 oz) coconut milk
  • 1.5 cups water, or more
  • 4 scallions, thinly sliced

For the filling

  • 8 oz pork belly or shoulder, thinly sliced
  • 12 oz raw shrimp, peeled
  • 1 onion, thinly sliced
  • 3 cups bean sprouts

Vegetable oil for the pan

To serve — not optional

  • 1 head leaf lettuce, leaves separated
  • 1 bunch mustard greens (cải xanh), large leaves
  • Mint, perilla (tía tô) and Vietnamese coriander
  • Nước chấm

Directions

Key ingredients

Cornstarch · Salt

  1. Mix the batter and REST it 30 minutes: Whisk the rice flour, cornstarch, turmeric and salt, then whisk in the coconut milk and water. It should be the consistency of thin cream — thinner than a pancake batter, closer to whole milk. Rest it; the flour needs to hydrate or the crepe will be gritty and will not go lacy.
  2. Stir the scallions in just before cooking.
  3. Get the pan properly hot: A 10-inch non-stick or well-seasoned carbon steel skillet over medium-high. Test it the way the dish is named — a drop of batter should hiss immediately. If it does not sizzle, wait.
  4. Cook the filling in the pan first: A little oil, then a few slices of pork and 3-4 shrimp and some onion. 1-2 minutes, until the shrimp turn pink.
  5. Pour and SWIRL, do not spread: Ladle in about 1/3 cup of batter and immediately tilt and swirl the pan so it runs thin right to the edges. The thin overhang at the rim is what becomes the lacy edge. Do not push it around with a spoon.
  6. Bean sprouts on one half, then cover and cook 2-3 minutes.
  7. Uncover and let it crisp: Another 3-4 minutes uncovered, until the edges lift and go deep gold and the base is crisp. Patience here is the difference between crisp and floppy.
  8. Fold and serve immediately. Fold in half over the sprouts and slide it out. It goes soft within a few minutes, so cook and serve one at a time rather than stacking a batch.
  9. Eat it properly: Tear a piece, wrap it in a lettuce or mustard leaf with herbs, dip in nước chấm.
  10. Component: Nước Chấm (Vietnamese Dipping Sauce)

Notes

Provenance: Eaten in Ho Chi Minh City, 19 March 2026, 18:05. The photograph is mine, of that plate — you can see the lacy translucent rim and the herb platter beside it.

The two failure modes. Too thick a batter gives you a pancake; too cool a pan gives you a soft, pale disc that never crisps. Both are recoverable — thin the batter with water, and wait longer between crepes for the pan to come back up.

Coconut milk is doing more than flavour. Its fat is what lets the crepe crisp rather than dry out, and it browns. A water-only batter (which some central-Vietnamese versions use) makes a smaller, thinner, more brittle crepe — a different and also good thing, but not this.

Turmeric quantity is to taste and to eye. A teaspoon gives the strong yellow in my photograph. It contributes very little flavour at this level; it is doing colour.

Regional note, honestly hedged: southern bánh xèo is large, thin and coconut-rich; central versions (bánh khoái in Huế) are smaller, thicker and often cooked in small pans. Mine is the southern one, because that is where I was.

Mustard greens make the best wrapper — the peppery bite cuts the fried richness in a way lettuce alone does not. If you can only get one green, get lettuce for structure; if you can get two, make the second mustard.

The pile of herbs looks absurd and is correct. Budget more than you think — at least a large handful of leaves per person.