
Journal
An Xuyên: the bánh mì baguette, and the sweet case behind it
French-Vietnamese bakery on Foster since the '90s. The sandwich loaf is the errand. The sweet trays are a second shop.
Photo: PortlandBread
Foster-Powell lunch fans have been ducking into An Xuyên for a bánh mì and walking out with an entire second bakery in the bag, and after enough “we just need a sandwich” trips we FINALLY treated the French-Vietnamese baguette as the reason to put this counter on a bread map! An Xuyên started commercial production in Salem, opened in Portland in 1995, and has been on Southeast Foster in Foster-Powell since 2001 — 5345 Southeast Foster Road, a no-frills pan-Asian Pacific bakery and deli that looks smaller from the street than the work happening inside. Out of all the macarons, mooncakes, Hawaiian doughnuts, and custom cakes in that room, the thing we came to clock is still the house baguette, because that shatter-then-soft loaf is why the sandwich works and why other kitchens around town quietly buy the bread.
From the sidewalk the shop is easy to underestimate: a long, bright counter, trays stacked behind glass, a ticket-and-move energy that does not care if you wanted to browse like a tasting room. Walk in and you better decide FAST, because a line forms behind you immediately. The bánh mì architecture is the one we default to — cucumber, pickled carrot and daikon in that neon-orange-and-white tangle, cilantro, jalapeño — on a baguette that is crusty at the edges and airy inside, baked on site that morning. Pâté and Vietnamese ham is the classic. Lemongrass pork, chipotle chicken, tofu, and the faux-meat options sit on the regular board. We do not overthink the sandwich. We overthink whether we also need a second loaf to take home, because this is a bakery first, and that French bread is the commercial specialty they have been delivering around Portland since before the neighborhood had a pastry crawl.
Then the sweet side of the room starts yelling. There are Hawaiian doughnuts — malasada-style, sugar-rolled, still a little crunchy at the edges — plus ube mochi doughnuts in that deep purple that photographs like a filter, black sesame peanut mochi, and coconut-ube versions if the tray is full. A rainbow of macarons the size of a baby’s fist sit next to ube-and-matcha thousand-layer croissants, guava cookies, Japanese-style cheesecake, chocolate and raspberry tarts, baked flan, and a Tiger Roll that layers pandan sponge with whipped cream. Seasonal mooncakes and durian cakes show up when the calendar says so. We can also see the drink board, and the honest pairing here is a Vietnamese iced coffee so dark and sweet it makes the pickles on the sandwich taste even brighter!
Hours lean early, the way a real bakery’s should, and Monday is the closure to check before you drive down Foster. This is counter service, not a leisurely sit-down, and the room moves because it has to. Make the sandwich decision, add the loaf, then decide on sweets. Custom cakes are a separate errand, not something you invent in the line while six people wait for bánh mì. We go when we want lunch bread, not when we want a patio and a pour-over.
Portland has no shortage of bakeries that want you to have a feeling. An Xuyên wants you to have a baguette that still crackles when you tuck in the pickles, plus a doughnut that has nothing to do with the sandwich except that it came from the same oven family. That is a different job, and it is the one this corner has been doing for decades without turning itself into a destination patisserie you came to photograph. Take the bánh mì. Take a second baguette if you are feeding people tonight. Take a Hawaiian doughnut or an ube mochi if the tray is full and you can eat it before you get back in the car. Then leave the custom-cake conversation for the day you ACTUALLY need a cake!
The short version is on the An Xuyên Bakery page.