Over twenty years later, Cuong still remembers the first time his grandma finally allowed him to watch over the pan cooking on the stove. At six years old he was too small to see what was happening, so he climbed onto a chair to flip the golden brown tofu while she tended to the rice and vegetables. Standing up there, young Cuong felt tall, powerful, and partly responsible for that evening’s meal. Little did he know that stepping up onto that chair that day to watch over the pan was the first step to his future as a chef. His view of food and the power it had to bring people together was forever changed.
Born and raised near Hanoi, in what Cuong describes as a traditional Northern Vietnamese family, he says that while his parents worked, he often stayed home with his grandparents. Growing up, he was encouraged to try many things like learn how to paint or play piano. He did them all, but ever since that first cooking experience his interest in cooking reigned over all other pursuits. Later, in high school, he felt a bit more in charge of his life, had more time to socialize, and even had a little extra money in his pocket. By then Cuong was already cooking quite a bit, and word spread among his friends about his skills. This is why whenever they had a day off, they’d pool their money together to buy ingredients from the market so Cuong could cook something up for them. Typical parties would be around five to ten people and almost always hosted at friends’ houses. While Cuong took care of the cooking, he was free from doing any of the dishes. He prepared all sorts of meals then. Of course various Vietnamese classics, but also pizza, pasta, and kimbab since a lot of his friends were fans of Korean dramas. With every meal Cuong became more devoted to cooking. While he wasn’t working in a real restaurant yet, these evenings with friends further cemented the value of cooking that he first understood as a child: that not only does cooking bring people together, it brings people closer.
Bringing people together to share a meal excited Cuong far beyond school. So he devised a plan. In order to get out of classes, he decided to become an event planner for his school. He admitted to even becoming semi-famous at high school for all of the events he helped orchestrate. It’s no wonder either. The first thing you’ll notice when you meet Cuong is he has a very positive and contagious energy. He wants to have fun, but more importantly, he wants you to have fun. This is the recipe for the great host, chef, or event planner. Cuong’s utmost concern is ensuring you have a good time. Whether he is in the middle of a dinner service, being interviewed, or at his favorite bia hoi spot with friends, there is a liveliness and care to him that’s impossible not to like.
After high school, cooking was the only profession Cuong had his sights set on. Despite that, his mom had other thoughts. She said no. In her mind, she already had a clear image of how Cuong would turn out years down the line: cigarette in his mouth, dizzy with fatigue as he hovered over a flaming wok, destroying his health all for a job that barely paid. Naturally, she wanted something more stable and safe. She envisioned Cuong becoming a doctor or an architect. However, in response he pleaded to his Mom, “Give me one year and I’ll prove it.”
I couldn’t help but laugh at that moment while looking across the table at Cuong. Clean haircut, big smile, dressed in fresh chef whites with gold lettering stitched on his chest, An’s, Cuong Nguyen, Executive Chef. Behind him the rest of the restaurant’s staff huddled together in the gazebo area preparing for that night’s service. Looking at him now, it appears he was right, but for Cuong, that isn’t the case. “No,” he says, sharing a laugh, “she was right.” She was right at first. It took Cuong another five years to prove he was right as well.
At that point, whether Cuong would end up becoming a chef or not remained to be seen. In the meantime, his mom agreed to a deal. Cuong could go to cooking school as he wished, but he had to get a degree too. Cooking school was for him, and going to university to study business was for her. One year of cooking classes at City Smart Hotel Management College helped him understand the ins and outs of everything related to creating tasty, well balanced dishes. On the other hand, three years of business classes at the National Economic University taught Cuong all about accounting, marketing, and budgeting. Unbeknownst to him at the time, these skills would later prove invaluable to Cuong’s qualities as a leader in the kitchen. Alongside Vanny, founder and general manager of An’s Saigon, Cuong is in charge of not only cooking meals for guests, but also calculating prices for every single portion they serve and creating a plan for the whole kitchen on a quarterly basis. In this way, all of the skills he learned in both cooking and business classes, as well as planning and hosting events during his teenage years, he applies to helping run An’s.
While Cuong now runs a well-oiled machine with An’s, his first few jobs after finishing his degrees were not as ideal. Still living in Hanoi then, Cuong worked wherever he was needed in the kitchen—on the grill, at the fryer, in cold prep, butchery, wok, as well as desserts and pastries—learning the trade station by station. Different roles took place in different places. He went from your average restaurant to the Pullman Hotel, and he even spent time on a river cruise. The latter experience stood out the most. Traveling along the Red River to Ha Long Bay, Cuong lived aboard a boat for two weeks at a time, waking up at 5am and working until 10pm with no days off. It’s grueling work, especially when you hang out the window to get a breath of fresh air and see land is so close yet so far. Two trips were enough to push him overboard and persuade him to look for other opportunities.
He was four years into pursuing his dream of becoming a chef and although it wasn’t glamorous, he was making it work. However, his mom still wasn’t convinced. From her perspective, he was still receiving low pay, losing weight, and maybe even the worst of it all: routinely coming home at midnight leaving less and less room for family time at dinner. All that said, Cuong refused to give in. He decided a change of scenery by moving to Saigon would be best. At the time, he had a strong feeling that if he went that way and did his best, he could go anywhere.
When he went to have a conversation with his Mom about moving to Saigon, Cuong said he wasn’t meeting her to ask for permission. He had already made his decision and he was simply telling her his plan out of respect. His mother, who he says has never forced him to do anything and always just wanted the best for her son, understood the writing on the wall. Even though she may have felt she was right up to that point about her son’s career choice, she understood that no matter which path he pursued, things will take time. Perhaps, even deep down, she wanted him to be right more than she wanted to be.
What is interesting is that after his decision was made, plans were shared, and before he embarked on his journey to Saigon, the restaurant Anan Saigon contacted him about a potential job opportunity—a turning point that would shape the next chapter of Cuong’s career. It all happened so fast. A week after he moved to Saigon he was sitting across the table from Anan’s Saigon head chef, Peter Franklin. Cuong noted that the first time they met, it wasn’t really an interview but more just a simple conversation between two chefs talking about life. Three days later, Cuong followed up over text and Peter responded saying he could start next week. Cuong started as a line cook, also known as a commis chef. For the next several months, he worked everywhere, moving around each station of the kitchen to the next, soaking up as much knowledge as he could. A year after working there, Cuong became the kitchen’s sous chef. Around then Anan Saigon was named among Asia’s top restaurants, ranking on the Asia’s 50 Best Restaurants list for the first time (In 2023, Anan Saigon was awarded one Michelin star in the inaugural Michelin Guide for Vietnam, becoming the first restaurant in Ho Chi Minh City to receive that distinction). During that time, Cuong had a chance to travel around Vietnam and Southeast Asia doing collaborations with other chefs. These experiences included collaborations with Chef Som in Bangkok, Chef Lai of Neighborhood in Hong Kong, a pop-up dinner at Small Bar in Bangkok—ranked among Asia’s 50 Best Bars—and, most notably, a final collaboration at Anan Saigon with Chef Ton of Le Du, the number-one restaurant on Asia’s 50 Best list and a Michelin-starred institution.
For the first time in Cuong’s career, he had a stable job, was being paid well, and receiving international recognition. Then one day he received a phone call—his mom was on the other line. Cuong explained everything that was going on in his life. “Oh…” she said, not a complete confession of you-were-right-I-was-wrong. It was more a feeling, an attitude shift, a change to a softer tone. They both laughed when after hearing about her son’s success, she said, “But you can always come back to Hanoi.” Though he misses her, Cuong’s remained in Saigon ever since moving here six years ago. Despite their initial differences, Cuong sums it up like this, “All our moms just want us to live our best life.” While she might not have said outright over the phone that day, I’d bet she feels immensely proud of him pursuing his own path.
After three years of working at Anan, in the middle of 2022, Cuong decided it was time for the next chapter. One of the things he discussed with Peter at their initial meeting was why Cuong wanted to become a chef. Cuong’s response was that he wanted to create his own restaurant one day. In 2022, that time had come. It was during that year Cuong met Vanny. She’d just come back from studying business in Australia and was looking to start her own restaurant. The two connected through a mutual friend who went to Vanny’s high school and attended the same cooking school as Cuong did. Similar to Peter, the first few conversations were just two friends talking about their personal lives and their career aspirations. It wasn’t long before things started to click between the two and the idea of teaming up to formulate something new had sprung.
Initially they wanted to build a type of clubhouse where guests could enjoy a workspace, spa, and dine on some good food. They spent a long time looking to find the right property together. Once they found what would become the location that is now An’s Saigon, their vision changed. In particular, once Cuong entered the back room area of the space, the idea of an open, omakase style experience started to come to life. Since the room was too big for counter seating, yet too small for a dining room, a chef table became the perfect solution. After some measurements, he concluded it would fit eight people comfortably. The number eight, Cuong explained, is a good number in Vietnamese culture. It symbolizes wealth, prosperity, and success. Not only that, it was the perfect number because just like the dinners he had back as a teen, that size party meant that he felt comfortable he could take care of everyone during dinner service.
When you’re sitting at a chef’s table for multiple hours, being served dish after dish, paired with this wine and that wine, it can start to feel like you're in the middle of a fine dining experience. Yet, that is not the exact intention of Cuong, Vanny, and the rest of the staff under the An’s brand. Taking care of people feels very natural to Cuong. So for him, having guests seated around his table feels the same as having people over at his home and he strives to make you just as comfortable as he is. In order to create this level of peace, An’s focus on hospitality starts the moment you pick up the phone to call them. “The journey begins there,” he says, “Right when you call us we make sure every answer, every attitude must match with our vibe. We call ourselves a home and we try to make you feel at home.” Cuong’s words are fitting considering the name An’s is a reference to the Vietnamese word “bình an”, or, “peace”. Beyond hospitality, the quality of the food itself is paramount.
Even since An’s soft opening in October 2022, and official opening that December, Cuong has been responsible for taking care of everything related to the food, especially now as he’s become Chef Patron of An’s Saigon. It’s a delicate balance between trying not to change too much of Vietnamese cuisine so that it becomes unrecognisable, but also experimenting enough that it feels fresh. Cuong notes most people think about food just at the surface level—how it looks and tastes—but food is much deeper than that. “It’s not just about the food itself,” he says. “It’s about the culture, the ingredients. Depending on the city you live in, the cuisine is going to feel different. I want to search for all of the differences, all of that is Vietnamese cuisine and I want to bring all of that to the world. I want the customer to feel it. I want them to understand it’s not only about food. The culture, the climate, everything is connected together.”
In essence, it’s about the stories of Vietnam. Through cooking, Cuong is trying to present those stories in such a way guests feel like they’re sitting at home surrounded by their family and friends. Cuong’s story at An's is still being written though. Many chapters await, filled with new menus, new flavors, more guests to stop by, and more stories to tell. In the end, the setting may have changed all these years later—from a small kitchen in Hanoi to an eight-seat chef’s table in Saigon—but the feeling remains the same. Cuong is still standing over a pan, still responsible for the evening’s meal, still trying to bring people together. Only now, instead of cooking beside his grandmother, he’s inviting the world to sit down at his table.
Follow Cuong on Instagram
Follow An’s Saigon on Instagram
