Berlu: the pandan honeycomb cake, now on Belmont

We have been wondering what would happen after chef Vince Nguyen closed the tasting-menu chapter of Berlu, and in late June 2025 he FINALLY answered by opening a larger standalone bakery at 661 Southeast Belmont — just around the corner from the old address — where the star of the room is still the pandan bánh bò nướng, that springy, holey, leaf-green honeycomb cake that has been following him since the pandemic pop-ups! Nguyen won a James Beard Award for the restaurant work, then turned the whole project into a dedicated gluten-free, dairy-free Vietnamese bakery, and out of all the tarts, roll cakes, waffles, and night-market plates in the new space, the cake with the lattice interior is the one we still line up for before the trays go empty.

The new room is the first thing we clock, because Berlu used to be a squeeze and now there is actual seating, a longer case, and a visual program that is almost comically committed to one dessert. The bánh bò nướng is the shop mascot. It shows up as an anthropomorphic slice of green cake on the wall art and the merch, and if you walk into the bathroom you might feel like you have DISAPPEARED inside the honeycomb, because the wallpaper is an extreme close-up of that glossy, hole-punched crumb. The cake itself is not the neon-extract green it used to be. Nguyen steeps fresh pandan leaves — grown in Hawaii — in coconut milk, blends the mixture, and strains it so the batter picks up a paler, leafier green that reads as plant instead of highlighter, plus those jasmine-and-vanilla notes the leaves actually taste like. The interior is chewy, springy, and full of those science-project tunnels. It arrives with a little cup of slightly salty white coconut cream for drizzling, and we can also see coffee and banana versions on some days, which are NOT the same dessert even though they share the honeycomb.

Around that centerpiece the case is doing a full Vietnamese-dessert argument that was never trying to be a croissant shop. Pandan waffles come out floppy and ghostly green. Coconut egg custard tarts sit in shiny shells. Bánh da lợn shows up in pandan and tamarind layers. There have been mango roll cakes, nectarine tarts, pineapple-cardamom cake, clove canelés, and a chè — that Vietnamese dessert soup — with coconut milk, ice, wiggly green cendol jellies, and whatever fruit the market sent. The savory plot twist is the bánh bò nướng avocado toast: a thick grilled slice of the coconut cake under ripe avocado, frizzy sprouts, fried shallots, chile oil, and salted coconut cream stained with fig-leaf oil. Nguyen has pushed a “one of everything” box for a reason. The textures do not repeat, and if you are new that is the honest way to understand the case!

They bake Thursday through Sunday, roughly 9 a.m. to 3 p.m. or until the trays die, and they take every pastry order in person. No pre-orders. Thursday nights they run a Night Market — walk-in only — with a progressive take on Vietnamese street food, and that savory menu can include dairy even when the pastry case does not, so ask if that matters. Whole cakes are a separate email conversation. We get there when the door opens, not when we are already hungry on the way home, because a bakery this specific will sell the green cake down and then politely show you the empty rack.

We keep coming back because Berlu is not “gluten-free, so it is fine.” It is a Vietnamese dessert bakery that happens to be safe for a lot of people who got used to skipping dessert, built by a fine-dining chef who decided the honeycomb cake was the whole assignment. Take the pandan bánh bò nướng. Take a tart if the case still has one. Take the avocado toast if you want the same chewy crumb on the savory side. Then leave before you talk yourself into waiting for a next bake that is not coming!

More on the place page: Berlu Bakery