As a kid growing up in Louisiana, crawfish season was something to be celebrated and savored. My memories are filled with steaming pots in the backyard, spicy red shells piling high on newspaper-covered tables, and conversations that lasted as long as the crawfish did. But I’d never had crawfish like this until I wandered into Houston’s Asiatown.
Yes, you read that right—Houston’s six-square-mile stretch of Bellaire Boulevard is where Cajun meets Saigon, and crawfish gets a bold, aromatic makeover.
A Taste of the East… in Southwest Houston
If you’ve never been, Houston’s Asiatown is a kaleidoscope of cultures and cuisines including Chinese, Vietnamese, Thai, Korean, Japanese, Malaysian, and Laotian. There are bustling markets, herbal medicine shops, and temples tucked between strip malls, and bilingual signs that shift from Chinese on the east side to Vietnamese on the west.
Locals call it Asiatown, Chinatown, or Little Saigon interchangeably. But no matter what you call it, the food here is its own kind of language that blends flavors, histories, and migrations into something uniquely Houston.
And for me, the siren call was the legendary Viet-Cajun crawfish.
Meeting My Guide to the Scene
To navigate the area’s overwhelming menu of options, I met up with Houston food blogger and journalist Mai Pham (@femme_foodie), who has the enviable job of discovering Houston’s culinary hidden gems for the Houston Chronicle.
Mai suggested we start at the original—the “OG” of Viet-Cajun cooking, Crawfish and Noodles at 11360 Bellaire Blvd. Tucked inside a strip mall in the Universal Plaza. It’s a spot that might be easy to miss… if it weren’t for the Vietnam War Memorial out front.
Two towering 27-foot copper statues, one depicting an American soldier, the other a South Vietnamese soldier, stand side by side, weapons raised in a tribute to shared sacrifice. They were sculpted by Vietnamese artist Phạm Thông, and they set the tone for the plaza: history, resilience, and cultural pride, all in one place.
The Man Who Put Viet-Cajun on the Map
Inside Crawfish and Noodles, the air smelled of garlic butter and fresh herbs. Conversations bounced between tables in English and Vietnamese.
Chef Trong Nguyen, who opened the restaurant in 2008, has been called a pioneer of the Viet-Cajun movement. In 2022, he was even a James Beard Award semifinalist for Best Chef: Texas, a big deal in the culinary world.
As Mai explained, Viet-Cajun is a Houston-born phenomenon. “In the late 1990s, a lot of Vietnamese entrepreneurs started mixing the flavors they grew up with—garlic, butter, lemongrass—with Cajun crawfish boils,” she told me. “It started in Houston, but now you’ll find it in other U.S. cities.”
Crawfish… But Make It Viet-Cajun
As a Louisiana native, I’ve eaten crawfish every way imaginable, from spicy boils to baked in pies and stirred into étouffée. Chef Trong’s version was a revelation.
Instead of serving the crawfish straight out of the boil, he tosses them into a wok with a fragrant butter-garlic sauce, a tangle of lemongrass, and a carefully balanced spice mix. The result? Crawfish that’s messy, finger-licking, aromatic, and layered with flavor in a way traditional boils aren’t.
I cracked shells and sipped cold beer while the table filled with Viet-Cajun dishes.
Also on the menu, Vietnamese comfort classics like pho and shaking beef.
How Viet-Cajun Got Here
The story of Viet-Cajun cuisine is also the story of Vietnamese immigration to the Gulf Coast.
After the Vietnam War, thousands of Vietnamese refugees settled in Louisiana’s fishing towns, where they quickly adapted to local seafood traditions. Crawfish was abundant and affordable, making it a staple food that many Vietnamese learned to harvest. Families began adding butter, garlic, lemongrass, and chili to the Cajun boil, but these adaptations mostly stayed within Vietnamese communities.
It wasn’t until the late 1990s, when many Vietnamese families relocated to Houston for better job opportunities and more affordable housing, that the style began to appear in restaurants. From there, Viet-Cajun became a sensation and a point of pride in Houston’s diverse food scene.
From Crawfish to Cocktails
With bellies full of seafood, Mai suggested we wrap up the night at Hẻm Kitchen & Bar, a place that feels like stepping into a hidden Saigon backstreet.
The name “Hẻm” means “alley” in Vietnamese, and owners Steven Diep (a former DJ) and Kanny Le designed the whole restaurant to mimic the urban alleys they grew up with. They even went to Vietnam to collect inspiration and décor.
At the entrance, a vintage Vespa and a Lambro microcar greet you like old friends from the past. Inside, the lighting is soft and colorful thanks to birdcage chandeliers and neon signs.
The walls are lined with distressed shutters and painted murals, and the booths are tucked into giant faux drainage pipes, a nod to the unfinished 1970s construction projects in Vietnam that poorer residents turned into makeshift homes.
The Charm of Tiny Tables
HEM captured my curiosity before I entered. One of the first things I noticed was the seating, which was brightly colored, child-sized plastic chairs and tables, just like you’d find in Vietnam’s sidewalk cafés.
The visual oddity of grown adults sitting around these tiny tables was comical and begged for an explanation. Steven laughed when I asked about it.
“Honestly, it’s about convenience,” he explained. “In Vietnam, indoor seating is limited, so people spill outside. The small tables are light, cheap, and easy to move.”
We sipped cocktails inspired by Vietnamese street drinks and shared late-night snacks while a playlist of retro Vietnamese pop and modern beats played overhead. It was one of those spaces that feels transported from somewhere else entirely but somehow belongs in Houston, too.
A City with a Taste for Pho (and Everything Else)
By the time we left, I’d learned that Houstonians take their Vietnamese food seriously, especially pho. The city’s large Vietnamese population means there’s an educated, discerning palate for the bone broth soups and fierce competition among restaurants to serve up the best pho.
The community’s influence runs deep in Houston’s cultural and economic fabric. You can see it in the bilingual signage, hear it in the blend of languages on the street, and feel it in the pride with which these restaurants tell their stories.
When to Go
If you’re planning a visit, September is an especially exciting time. That’s when Untitled Art, Houston will debut, a contemporary art fair that promises to bring world-class exhibitions to the city. The event takes place from September 19 to September 21, 2025, at the George R. Brown Convention Center in downtown Houston. Between that and a few pounds of Viet-Cajun crawfish, you could have yourself a very full weekend.
🍜 Must-Try Dishes & Spots in Houston’s Asiatown
| 🏮 Spot | 📍 Location | 🍽️ Must-Try Dish | 💡 Tip |
|---|---|---|---|
| Crawfish and Noodles | 11360 Bellaire Blvd | Viet-Cajun butter garlic crawfish, blue crabs, wok-fried noodles | Go Feb–May for peak crawfish season |
| Hẻm Kitchen & Bar | 8079 Westheimer Rd | Street-style cocktails, grilled skewers, shaking beef | Best for late-night eats & a neon-lit vibe |
| Hong Kong City Mall | 11205 Bellaire Blvd | Dim sum, Chinese pastries | Explore the food court for hidden gems |
| Thien Thanh Sandwiches | 11210 Bellaire Blvd | Bánh mì with house-made pâté, iced coffee | Perfect grab-and-go lunch |
| Sinh Sinh Seafood | 9788 Bellaire Blvd | Chinese-Vietnamese seafood feast | Go with friends—portions are huge |
| Tan Tan Restaurant | 6816 Ranchester Dr | Late-night pho, congee | Open into the early morning |
Why Asiatown Matters
Travel has a way of teaching you that a city’s identity isn’t something that can be captured in a single image or slogan. Throughout my four-day trip to Houston to explore its culture and culinary scene, I met a fascinating mix of artists, creatives, chefs, and entrepreneurs who’ve chosen to call the Bayou City home.
In Asiatown, the story is told through dishes that carry decades of history and migration in every bite. For me, it was told through a plate of crawfish that tasted both familiar and completely new, proof that food can cross oceans and cultures, and still feel like home.
If you ever find yourself in Houston, skip the skyline selfies for a day and wander down Bellaire Boulevard instead. Bring your appetite, your curiosity, and maybe a few extra napkins.
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