Paul Coelho, the author of The Alchemist wrote, “It is precisely the possibility of realizing a dream that makes life interesting.” Without the possibility of realizing our dreams, life becomes dull, cold, and heavy. From an early age, Chico has always had the same dream: owning his own restaurant. As I sat across the table from him and listened to his story over a couple of hours, I came to understand why he is the type of person who has successfully been able to realize his dream. The possibility, the pursuit, the path he’s taken has kept him sharp, warm, and light on his feet. After all, we met inside his own restaurant, Chị Mơ, a phở spot that opened this June, roughly two kilometers from his first restaurant that opened three years ago, Chico’s Pizza Bar.
Although he lost the accent, Chico was born in a small village near Frankfurt, Germany. He lived there until the age of six before moving back to Saigon. It was in those first few years, maybe before he even realized it, that his dream was taking shape. His Dad worked in a pizza kitchen under an Italian Chef and so for the young Chico, he was always surrounded by this dish. Having said that, Chico admits how difficult a time then was for their family. Dinner was often limited to two options: McDonald’s Double Cheeseburgers, which contained pickles that had such a distinctly sour taste he still remembers them to this day and, of course, pizza.
When Chico and his family moved back to Saigon, his Dad got a job as the first head chef at Al Fresco’s, a pizza chain with locations across Vietnam. From the time of him bringing his dough recipe back from Germany to the end of his five years in that kitchen, he offered young Chico some advice: “Don’t be a chef, son. It’s a fucking lot of work.” While I’ve never worked in a kitchen, everyone I know has always talk about how intense the work truly is. What is interesting to me at this junction early in Chico’s story is the irony here. Many people have parents who insist their children follow their line of work — some do, while others go in a completely different direction. Others have parents who insist they don’t follow their line of work, like Chico’s dad, and some listen to their command. However, there are others, a select few, who defy their orders and go in the exact same direction. The point is no matter what you’re told, you end up following the work that already lives in you.
By the time Chico got to college, he had already developed a business mindset. Barely a teenager, he was selling chocolates, as well as importing board games from China and flipping them at school. By the time he went to college to study marketing he was already hungry to start something himself, and so he and his friends created their own startup. Despite not having cooked anything, he expressed his dreams of making and selling pizza online. His family supported him, saying as long as he made money he may as well give it a shot. Out of everyone, his dad was a little skeptical. Given his history in the pizza business, he told Chico if he was serious about getting into the business, he should start by working in a kitchen. This led to Chico dropping out of college after a half a year in 2015 to work at Pizza 4P’s, one of Saigon’s most popular pizza spots. In the end he worked there for nine months which turned out to be an oddly recurring period of time throughout Chico’s story.
After Pizza 4Ps, nineteen year old Chico and his Dad moved up to Da Nang to open a pizza restaurant underneath a hostel owned by their relatives. As it often goes, despite attracting a healthy amount of customers over the course of nine months, mixing family and business created its own series of troubles. As Chico describes, one day, again, at the nine month mark, everything changed. His dad called him in the morning and said pack your things, we’re leaving. He came over, picked him up, and they left town that night. All that said, Chico described his Da Nang experience as a cheap lesson — he still got his return on investment and learned firsthand the difficulties of working with your kin.
After moving back to Saigon, Chico started looking for somewhere new to work. At that time, #1 restaurant on Trip Advisor was NOIR: Dining in the Dark. He applied, got the job, and felt an immense amount of gratitude not just for the opportunity to work, but also because that is where he met his mentor, and, to this day, the best chef in Vietnam in his eyes, Uyen Vo. However, after she quit—again, funny enough at the nine month mark—Chico ended up making his exit shortly after. What’s even more funny about his story is he followed this up by making another exit at the ninth month mark from the five-star Park Hyatt restaurant kitchen he worked at after. It was at this point Chico decided enough was enough. He hadn’t forgotten his childhood dream. The possibility was still there. He still wanted to own his own restaurant, specifically in Thu Duc. But first, he needed to make some money. Saving up by working in a restaurant alone wasn’t going to cut it so during the Covid pandemic, that’s what he focused on. Essentially, this meant a bunch of odd jobs like helping out his Dad sell jewelry or investing in stocks. On top of that, although he wasn’t spending any time in a kitchen, he also took courses on sourdough, coffee, bartending, and even got a part time job as a server.
When things started to open up, Chico traveled to Quy Nhon where he met a guy named Trung. The two friends hit it off immediately and started thinking about whether they could start something back in Saigon. It wasn't long before things came to fruition. First, Trung opened Roast & Smoke, a part cafe, part BBQ joint, in 2021. Then Chico did a popup kitchen there the following year. Soon after they teamed up to co-own the space. Trung would be Coffee Roaster and BBQ Pitmaster, while Chico would lead the kitchen as head of Chico's Pizza Bar. This was June 2022, the month of Chico’s birthday. At 26, he finally achieved his dream of owning his own restaurant in his dream location.
The following year in Chico’s story is what I found most interesting. The recurring theme of nine month stints had followed Chico since he started working in kitchens. Remember? Pizza 4PS. Da Nang. NOIR. Park Hyatt. Sure, the restaurant business can be brutal and surviving the first year is a steep climb that most don’t make. However, once he was at the helm of his own place, Chico managed to break the ninth month curse, effectively breaking through to the other side. Chico was feeling good about it too. He even started receiving some compliments, both directly and indirectly, from customers, some of whom were chefs at other restaurants, saying his spot had the best pizza in town. Naturally, the good times couldn’t last. When Chico’s Pizza hit the one year mark it was summertime in Vietnam. Given that it was the first summer after Covid restrictions had been lifted, many families traveled back home. As a result, Thao Dien emptied. They were stuck between a rock and a hard place. Business was up and running and compliments had been flowing in, yet all of a sudden, there were no customers around. At first, Chico felt confused, frustrated, and somewhat disillusioned. Around that time he started reflecting on his previous trip to Thailand six years prior with his sister. He got the feeling that now was the time to return to learn something new. So, in August 2023, Chico hit the road.
Although some friends came and went along the way, for the most part Chico was on his own. Solo. Searching. Seeking. He says it was a very emotional time for him—spiritual, even. He felt deeply touched by the culture, but more than that he was extremely impressed with the F&B scene especially when he went from Pattaya to Bangkok. The infrastructure. The storytelling. The service. Being the chef he is, he researched for weeks before he arrived, planning his attack for every single meal. In that moment of our conversation it was pretty cool to see him sitting in his own restaurant in his chef-whites just completely lit up talking about his travel experiences and the food he got to try.
Whilst perusing various spots, from street food stalls to Michelin starred restaurants, he got a call from Cheekie, owner of Neo-. He wanted Chico to meet a friend there, Aura, who runs the flower arrangement account @chewandcheers. The two met, had dinner, and before you knew it, teamed up for an event back at Neo- with both of them doing what they do best—Chico cooking, Aura, decorating. After a handful of events at Neo-, back at Chico’s with 2CMS, and elsewhere, Chico began to feel reinvigorated. The tides were turning again. He was experiencing first hand the power of pop up events in Saigon similar to the ones he raved about back in Thailand. After each one, no matter the location, the food, or the decorations, things got better. Operations improved. A following grew. Things started to scale. More than that though, the creative juices were flowing which meant a new project was taking shape. Summer time was coming back around and so was the next big chapter for Chico.
Chico came up with the idea to create a phở restaurant. That said, if you’re going to do a phở restaurant you better make sure you do it right. So he spent the entire next year researching before eventually opening the door to Chị Mơ this past summer. For starters, he didn’t want to use MSG. He was after a pure, natural flavor. In order to create this taste, he started with a small 20L pot at home where he tested a variety of styles in a pursuit of the perfect blend of ingredients. However, conducting experiments in your own home laboratory can only get you so far. If you’re after something pure, be it a recipe or a news story, you gotta go out into the field – ideally to the source of where the action is at. That meant it was time to hit the road again for another solo, month-long adventure to learn something new. This time that meant going straight to the source, the home of phở, the nation’s capital, Hanoi — Chico’s first time.
Why is Hanoi's food delicious? From Chico’s perspective, it lies in the strictness. Even for him, he felt a bit scared to order sometimes, especially when there wasn’t a menu as is often the case. As a kind of last resort, he would blurt out, “Give me a bowl of everything.” Hanoi’s culinary strictness is not explicit to ordering though. In Chico’s opinion, there is a deeper, more traditional and reserved culture within the restaurant business there which translates to customers not being easy to please. Put simple: he learned if you are just a mediocre place, you are not going to survive. Essentially, in Hanoi, only the best make it past those nine months.
Beyond Hanoi, Chico also traveled to Nam Dinh, another place people argue to be the home of phở. More specifically, he drove to a spot 45 minutes outside of the city center. Again, his whole research was seeking a pure, natural flavor. To have a good shot at this, he decided to go really early. Sunrise. Sitting at this particular spot, listening to the rain sprinkling outside, and taking his first few bites of the phở there, he was blown away. The tenderness. The umami. This is what he was after. Not only that, it was the first time he experienced the flavor of beer infused in vinegar. Like the chef at that restaurant in Nam Dinh that instructed Chico to try it, Chico did the same for me for the bowl of phở I was eating throughout our interview. I felt just as blown away to sense the bia hoi after taste in the pickled garlic at Chị Mơ restaurant. I also learned the same important lesson that Chico did at that restaurant a year ago: try all of the condiments, all of the ingredients, all of the flavors that the chef places on your table. They are putting each and every one in front of you for a reason. Try to discover what the reason is. Allow yourself the adventure within the meal in front of you.
If there’s one component that is most essential to a good bowl of phở it has to be the broth. Chico says the bold Northern broth at Chị Mơ’s was a happy accident. After he came back from Hanoi with a better understanding of how to balance flavors within a good bowl of phở, it was time to start experimenting again. One day they were trying to make a new batch of broth only to lift the lid and see the broth was cloudy. A big no-no for broth. But, it turned out to be a delicious, cloudy, phở-ramen like broth. The flavors were bold. So much so that Chico and his team had the bold idea to invite a bunch of people to try out their new concoction, their very own rendition of phở. In came foodies, businessmen, chefs, ramen and phở masters for trial tastings. Then, came an even bolder idea, let’s serve our version to Hanoian people. So, they did two batches of group tastings in Hanoi serving all three of their different styles on their menu. The first batch included more traditional chefs while the second batch included various business owners or people who have lived in other countries. The response? First batch: “Call it whatever you want, this is not Hanoian phở.” Second batch: “Hey this is pretty good. Cool concept.” So, instead of being discouraged by the negative feedback, Chico and his team took the positive feedback as a sign to keep learning, perfecting their recipe, and also looking for an actual location to set up shop.
They decided on an antique establishment in Thao Dien which has the classic Hoi An vibe to it thanks to a few craftsmen who renovated the place. In March they got the keys, in June they opened, and in September of this year they did their grand opening which is also the first time I stopped by. The place was packed, in part because there’s been a steady following to Chị Mơ since the beginning and also given how incredible a space it is—there’s plenty of indoor and outdoor seating, and you could even host a party there if you wanted!
After visiting the place, one thing I was interested to ask Chico about was the name. Why Chị Mơ? For Chico’s Pizza Bar, the name is obvious but Chị Mơ was less so. Thankfully, at the very end of our interview Chico explained. Originally, I thought it meant a girl named Mơ as in the kitchen is his lady or his muse. But actually it honors the name of his business partner’s mom from the north. In the middle of his explanation, Chico instructed me to look around his restaurant — while the kitchen is professional, the space itself has a motherly touch to it. What he means specifically is from the mother’s perspective, her children always deserve the best, so that they can have the knowledge and love needed to strive. In this sense, it is a modern kitchen nestled inside a warm and motherly ambiance. Chico and his team put all of their love, care, and attention into every single bowl of phở so customers feel the comforting sense of being at home.
In the end, although pizza was in Chico’s blood from the beginning, something else had been simmering there too. What he’s built at Chị Mơ and Chico’s Pizza Bar aren’t just places — they’re the realization of feelings he’s carried with him since he was a kid. A feeling of comfort. Of home. Of possibility. And that feels like the whole point of Chico’s story: no matter your dream, no matter your background, no matter the path you take, what makes life interesting is the possibility of realizing it.
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