When a dish travels far from its homeland to take root somewhere else, one common yardstick for judging it is “authenticity.” Is the seasoning true to form? How closely do the ingredients match the original? Has the cook stuck to tradition, or wandered too far into improvisation? But what if an entire cuisine was born and shaped in defiance of that very idea?

Tucked in a small corner on Phạm Viết Chánh Street, WOKO at first looks like just another fixture of Saigon’s Chinese food scene, grabbing attention with its red shopfront and vivid wall covered in Hong Kong movie posters. The heart of the operation, though, is American Chinese, a branch of Chinese cooking with an American identity created within very particular historical context.

What is American Chinese cuisine?

In the 19^th and 20^th centuries, the first waves of Chinese immigrants arrived in the United States and took on punishing work in mines and on railroad crews. As those projects dwindled and discrimination narrowed their options, many trades shut them out altogether. Chinese migrants retreated into Chinatowns, where laundries and small restaurants became a way to make a living. With familiar spices and ingredients hard to come by, they had to cook around what was available. Stir-fries were remade with North American vegetables like carrot and broccoli; meat leaned toward leaner cuts, and sauces were rendered more assertively, meant to be eaten with plenty of rice or noodles to keep one's belly full.

Before long, words spread. More diners began seeking out Chinese restaurants for meals that were tasty, (relatively) nourishing, and affordable. Over the decades, these places multiplied and became a fixture of American popular culture, and of the west, more broadly.

Like many international students in the US, I used to subsist on more than a few of these “charity meals” from Chinese restaurants. They stayed open regardless of the hour, so even on a freezing Christmas night, when everything nearby had closed for the holiday, I could still wander over for a box of orange chicken or beef and broccoli, bring it back to the dorm, and steady myself with a good meal in the middle of winter. Even now that I am back in Saigon, I still get sudden cravings for the comfort food that fed me during those years away from home.

From Australia to Saigon

Duyên, one of the two founders of WOKO, was also a student abroad and shared a similar experience that inspired her to start the shop. “I studied in Australia for three years,” she said. “On my first day there, I ate chow mein and honey chicken, and I didn’t even know it was American Chinese. Late,r it was my go-to after class. The food court sold it so cheaply, around 3 or 4 dollars for a small portion, that I’d stop by almost every day. I ate it so often I ended up loving it.”

After finishing her studies and returning to Vietnam, Duyên found her way into the local F&B scene. She worked at several restaurants, including one that specialized in American Chinese dishes. There, she not only deepened her understanding of the cuisine, she also met people who would later help her build WOKO: Sơn, now the head chef; and Huy, her co-founder.

When the restaurant shut down because of the pandemic, they kept working in different kitchens but stayed in touch. After saving for some time, each of them had managed to put aside a bit of capital. One night, over drinks and talk about the future, Duyên and Huy began to discuss starting a business more seriously. “At the time I was thinking of opening a café,” Duyên said. “Then Huy was like, ‘Why don’t we open a place like that American-Chinese spot we used to work at? Everybody misses that flavor.’”

In fact, Saigon already has a few restaurants pursuing this model, but none truly met Duyên’s personal criteria. The food did not always suit her taste. Portions felt too large. Prices still ran high compared with the general baseline. “I wanted to fix those small issues,” she said. “I wanted a portion people could share, so they could order more dishes. I wanted smaller servings, more suitable for Vietnamese diners. I wanted prices to be a bit steadier. A person can come in and order a combo with rice and a main dish, starting from VND65,000.”

WOKO’s menu is built from the founders’ own experience and presents the best-known staples of Chinese-American restaurants across the Pacific, including sweet & sour pork, orange chicken, chow mein, and more.

Even after significant tailoring, these dishes still follow many techniques rooted in Chinese cooking. Ingredients are stir-fried quickly in a large wok so they stay fresh and vibrant in color. Sauces are lightly thickened with cornstarch, which gives them viscosity and helps them cling to the other components. The clearest departures show up in the finishing. Fried chicken, for instance, is coated in a fairly thick batter and cooked twice. Seasoning is also pushed in a bolder direction, with sweetness and sourness often more pronounced than in the original dishes.

Among WOKO’s many offerings, honey chicken and fried rice are the two I love most, and I order them almost every time I stop by. If Vietnamese fried rice is typically on the drier side, sometimes with slightly browned edges, American Chinese fried rice tends toward a looser, fluffier texture. WOKO’s version, mixed with egg, peas, and scallions, is deeply seasoned with soy sauce and a glossy dark brown that is pleasingly theatrical — “the Uncle Roger's standard,” as Duyên described.

Whatever the version, good rice is often what determines whether an Asian meal hits the mark. WOKO’s team, accordingly, tested their way through multiple options before landing on the right grain. “Honestly, we tried like 10 bags of rice,” Duyên said. “Vietnam is famous for exporting rice, so there’s so much variety. We had to find the exact kind we needed.”

The fried rice is a perfect counterpart to the honey chicken: crisp fried pieces glazed in a gently sweet honey sauce, fragrant with toasted sesame, served alongside hot rice and tender broccoli. Sweetness, salt, and richness weave into one another in a combination that is deeply comforting. Beyond the honey sauce, WOKO offers orange, black bean, Kung Pao, and more. Diners can mix and match these sauces with chicken, beef, or tofu, then pair them with rice or hot noodles to make the most satisfying portion for themselves.

American Chinese food tends to be seasoned generously, so those accustomed to Saigon’s more traditional Chinese fare might find it unfamiliar at first bite. Yet that difference creates a separate lane for WOKO. The shop does not try to please everyone, but it is always open to changes when the changes are reasonable.

“Some people say the sweet-and-sour sauce is really good now, don’t change it,” Duyên said. “But someone else might think it’s too sour, too salty. Instead of changing the recipe back and forth, I’ll remember that customer’s feedback, so the next time they come in, we’ll adjust it to fit their taste.”

For Duyên, WOKO may not be the only American-Chinese restaurant in Saigon, or even the most outstanding one, but it should be the one with the best service standards. Flavor matters, of course, but what she is most intent on building is a friendly, personalized experience where customers feel consistently welcomed.

With American Chinese food, “authenticity” has never been the most important criterion. Alongside recipes learned from books and from their previous kitchen, Duyên and Sơn have also experimented with distinctly Vietnamese ingredients, including a “secret sauce” (which I am not allowed to reveal) to create a one-of-a-kind flavor for their chow mein, a creation Duyên described playfully: “It’s Chinese, it's Vietnamese and it’s American!”

Ultimately, it's that spirit of adaptability that allowed Chinese cuisine to survive and flourish in an unfamiliar land. Today, that legacy lives on in a modest kitchen in Saigon, and in the soul-warming plates that I keep finding myself returning to whenever I can’t decide what to eat.

To sum up:

• Opening time: 12pm–2:30pm; 3:30pm–9pm
• Parking: Bike parking in front of shop
• Average cost per person: $$ (VND60,000–150,000)
• Payment: Cash, bank transfer, credit card, Apple Pay
• Delivery app: Grab