Even though my Dad’s from England, I’ve never much felt English. That probably had something to do with the fact that I was born in Singapore, lived there until I was eight, and then moved to Tokyo, where my Mum’s from. If you grow up in Japan without being one-hundred-percent, pure-bred Japanese, you’re never going to be accepted as Japanese. That pissed me off as a teen. I went through something of an identity crisis as most teenagers do, and though I felt more Japanese—as I still do—England had a grip on me in a similar way to how the green light at the end of Daisy’s dock represented all of Gatsby’s hopes and dreams. I remember countless debates with an American friend about how English rock n’ roll was, simply put, better. How could you argue against The Beatles, Rolling Stones, and Led Zeppelin? Besides music, you couldn’t get me started on the cuisine. Friends often poked fun at how bad English food was, to which I was quick to disagree. Fish n’ chips? Bangers and mash? Pies galore? Hell, an English breakfast, for christ’s sake! All of this is to say England had a grip on my psyche, so a decade after arriving in Japan, I moved there.
To this day, I still believe English rock n’ roll is better than American, English food is still great (it’s just that you don’t want it everyday), and the green light that had represented my hopes and dreams hadn’t actually been what I was longing for. Perhaps that was part of the reason why I came to Saigon. Tokyo will always be home but I want the world to be home. Perhaps I’d been looking at the wrong light. Perhaps it was meant to be red.
It’s been three years since I moved to Saigon as of the end of July, and I have found, to some extent, what I’d been looking for. I definitely still feel more Japanese, but my English side tugs in a variety of ways. Whenever it does it’s important to listen, and I can listen through music, through phone calls with friends from uni, but sometimes, the most comforting way to listen is through food.
Union Jack’s has been a mainstay in Saigon since opening in 2017. Priding themselves on being the quintessential British Fish & Chips restaurant in the heart of Saigon, they’ve upheld that reputation with love from locals and expats alike, as well as a number of awards including placing Top 3 Overseas in the UK’s National Fish and Chip Awards in 2024. I visited on an especially rainy Thursday after a week-long trip in Danang with friends from Japan. We’d feasted daily on nothing but Vietnamese fare so I might’ve been craving something Western as a change for my taste buds. Then again, maybe the weather had a say in my sudden craving—English food never tastes better than when it’s rainy and gloomy out. So I went, joined by Garrett, a third of District 0. Aidan, the other third, was supposed to join as well but he got sick. Must’ve been the weather.
Union Jack’s is located in every expat’s favourite enclave: Thảo Điền. Situated on Nguyễn Bá Lân street, the place has all the rustic charm you’d expect to find in a chippy you might stumble upon in one of England’s many seaside towns. According to Matt, the owner, the place has come a long way to get to the point it’s at now: starting off as nothing more than a hole in the wall by Bitexco Tower in District 1, Matt recalls with a cheery laugh about how customers back then had to go up a flight of stairs so steep it was more like scaling a precarious ladder. Now Union Jack’s boasts three floors of open space, making it a perfect setting for indulging in all of your favourite British classics.
That evening, Garrett and I tried a number of dishes. Of course, you can’t visit Union Jack’s without sampling one of their fish and chips. There’s three options on the menu: White Snapper, Sea Bass Barramundi, and Ling Cod. Cooked in beef tallow as they traditionally do in Yorkshire, the results are crispy, flaky, succulent fish. Along with your choice of fish is a side of their famous Triple-Cooked Chips. If you’d prefer a different side—why would you?—there’s also Steakhouse Fries, Wedges, or a Half Chips Half Salad option. Lastly, the sauces. There are seven options in total, each of them homemade as are most of the items on the menu. We went for the Original Tartar Sauce for the fish and chips and got a few other sauces for the other dishes. Our total order? White Snapper with Triple-Cooked Chips and Original Tartar Sauce, Salmon and Ling Cod Fish Cakes with Lemon Tartar Sauce, ‘Proper’ Bangers & Mash, and three different types of croquettes: Black Pudding, Mozzarella & Jalapeno, Bacon, Cheese & Potato, and the vegetarian friendly Mushroom option. On the side of the croquettes we had to try their Jack’s Thick Gravy and as a hot-sauce fanatic, the Spicy Sriracha Sauce. Of course, it couldn’t end there. We washed it all down with a few beers: a Tiger for Garrett and Huda for myself.
The meal was delicious. Everything you could really ask for on a gloomy, rainy night that reminded me of evenings back in Falmouth, the seaside town I spent three years in for university. I remember how in second year there used to be a chippy a short walk from where I lived. Every now and again I’d stop by to pick up a hunk of beer battered cod and a mound of chips that would proceed to get doused in salt and vinegar before the man behind the counter—a grumpy looking fellow—wrapped it all up in sheets of paper. I’d always get a curry sauce to go with it, ladled from a steaming vat in the back and filed to the brim of a styrofoam cup which I had to hold straight up on my walk back for fear it would spill. Nothing really beats a meal like that. Not now and especially not during university. Life seems to feel a bit more blissful after a good ol’ fashioned fish and chips meal. There aren’t too many other dishes which give you a sense of having been taken care of, that you can put your feet up and relax, sink into the sofa while engrossed in your favourite late-night tv show. Though I’m far away now from those bitter, windy Falmouth nights, though it’s been years since I’ve stopped by a cornershop chippy and got tossed an order of fish, chips, and curry sauce from a chunky older bloke who looked like he’d rather be watching the footy, it’s nice to know that when I do feel England tugging at my heart strings, I’ve got a place to go that can satisfy my soul. A place like Union Jack’s.
On August 28th, a crowdfunding campaign for an upcoming documentary called ‘Finding Home in HCMC: The Union Jack’s Story’ is starting. It’s a personal, character-led documentary about food, love, identity, and belonging in a fast-changing city — starting with the story of Union Jack’s. The team behind the documentary will be using Comicola for Vietnam-based supporters (MoMo, ZaloPay, local cards) and Kickstarter for international backers. A teaser will be released mid-July and a full trailer follows in late August to reveal the story. You can follow the journey on Facebook and Instagram.
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