OFF-MENU SPECIALS

Sweet, Savory, and In Between: Lai Rai Brings Hanoi's Old Quarter to the Lower East Side



Writing and photos by Annie Zhou

May 2025
There’s a moment of disorientation when you first step into this quaint locale on Forsyth Street. Its butter yellow walls, Italian-sourced marble bartop, and aged brass mirrors pose sensible pondering: is this Paris? Italy? Europe? 

It’s sound, not sight, that answers these questions. The unexpected lilt of Vietnamese new wave music floats above the symphony of conversation, clinking glasses, and distinctive ping of spoons against metal cups. Here, under amber-warm lighting, patrons are captured in moments suspended in time and in between cultures. 

Lai Rai emerged in the Manhattan dining scene in Fall 2024 as a Vietnamese natural wine bar. "My wife picked the name,” shares co-owner Jerald Head, “it translates to 'little by little.’” The literal translation, however, misses the nuances of Vietnamese slang. Colloquially, lai rai refers to the moments spent with friends and family sipping drinks, nibbling snacks, and letting time unspool.

This philosophy manifests most prominently in Lai Rai’s signature offering: surprising ice cream flavors, served in elegant silver coupes. Does savory strike your fancy? Choose from bites of umami giò thủ (its galactic pattern mirrors the locale’s marble bartop), a bowl of chicharron, or a classic round of prawn crackers.




Back in 2023, Jerald and his wife, Nhung Dao Head, were operating Lai Rai’s sister restaurant, Mắm. Amassing fervent patrons, Mắm was adored for serving ingredients and dishes you wouldn’t typically find in a usual Vietnamese restaurant. 

However, one setback subsisted: Mắm’s location fell within proximity of a local school, and the duo wasn't allowed to obtain a liquor license. Then, vacant real estate sprang up down the block. The Mắm duo took it as an opportunity to create a space for something new.

Lai Rai is collectively owned between Jerald Head and his former bosses, Kim Hoang and Tuan Bui of Greenpoint's Di An Di. Following the success of both Di An Di and Mắm, Jerald, Kim, and Tuan travelled across Europe and Asia, collecting inspiration along the way. For Jerald—a professional already with 17 years in the restaurant industry—his travels gave him an even more pronounced appreciation for wine. He recalls Folderol, a humble locale in Paris, serving a pairing that simply blew him away: a glass of Sauvignon Blanc with ice cream. 

Paris offered the conventional flavors of chocolate and Concord Grape—Lai Rai chose to steer these gastronomical ideas in a decidedly Vietnamese direction. "If we were going to be a Vietnamese wine bar, it's important we're serving Vietnamese flavors," Jerald shared. This meant working with savory Vietnamese flavors. “As you could imagine, Southeast Asians don’t enjoy their sweets too sweet; this made it easy to do earthy tones that pair well with the wine."




Paris offered the conventional flavors of chocolate and Concord Grape — Lai Rai chose to steer these gastronomical ideas in a decidedly Vietnamese direction. 



Newcomers may be surprised by Lai Rai’s rolodex of ice cream flavors. The subtle funk of fish sauce caramel dances between sweet and savory. The nostalgic creaminess of Laughing Cow cheese transforms into velvet spoonfuls, and the delicate perfume of chrysanthemum lingers like a half-remembered memory. Additional flavors showcase the buttery richness of avocado and the aromatic whisper of banana leaf. Each confectionous creation is gently balanced: complementing, rather than contending with, your glass of natural wine.




"I've always seen ice cream as a blank canvas to explore and be adventurous with," Jerald notes. Fish sauce caramel ice cream is the perfect metaphor for this generation's approach to cultural inheritance: we preserve the essence while transforming the form. The approach seems to be working. Guests who tend to initially hesitate at flavors such as fish sauce caramel, usually leave as converts.

On Lai Rai’s wine list, you’ll find the classic French and Italian wines. Yet, its rice wines are its pièce de résistance. Lai Rai works closely with Sông Cái, a distinctly Vietnamese distillery. Complementary to the expected Japanese sake and Korean rice wine (sourced from Akishika Shuzo and Brooklyn’s Hana Makgeolli respectively), Lai Rai is one of the few places in the U.S. to serve Vietnamese rice wine. 

Speaking on Sông Cái’s practices, Jerald remarks, "It's original, and it is uplifting for their community in Vietnam, employing local folks, and changing their lives. Giving them some type of royalty for whatever product they may forge for their wines."


"I've always seen ice cream as a blank canvas to explore and be adventurous with," Jerald notes. 

Fish sauce caramel ice cream is the perfect metaphor for this generation's approach to cultural inheritance: we preserve the essence while transforming the form. 



One standout offering, that is sure to surprise even the most seasoned wine savant, is the sparkling rice wine derived from purple sticky rice. "The fermentation happens naturally in the bottle," Jerald describes. "It has that color and taste, almost like a grape or berry wine—it has those berry notes. And because of the purple sticky rice, it just has a beautiful color to it."

It’s these pleasant contrasts—hot and cold, sweet and acidic, familiar and foreign—that create the distinctive alchemy of Lai Rai’s menu. With the unexpected sweetness of fish sauce on your tongue, the haunting melodies of Vietnamese Bolero tickling your ears, and the flicker of vintage Saigon streetscapes projected on the wall, Lai Rai entertains all the senses.




The natural wine bar is more than just a place to drink. It’s a unique space of cultural curation. Regardless of whether you're Vietnamese, or experiencing these flavors and sounds for the first time, each element is orchestrated to transport you somewhere between memory and discovery.

In the back of the bar, visuals project against the wall. Films by the celebrated Vietnamese director Tran Anh Hung, music videos from Vietnam's vibrant pop culture, and homemade video tours through Saigon, Hanoi, and Huế: these elements evoke nostalgia for Vietnamese visitors and an immersive introduction for others.

Joyce, Lai Rai’s manager and bartender, adds, “Everything that we do—the music, the visuals, the food, the wine—we just want to give our guests a snippet into Vietnamese culture in Vietnam, or bring it here to New York.”

The Lai Rai team has carved a portal into Hanoi's Old Quarter (the heart of street eating in Vietnam). In the midst of spring, the doors of Lai Rai are kept wide open and guests gather to lounge outside. 




Inside, a wall is adorned with a collection of wine bottles suffused with golden light spilling in from the window. Down the street at Mắm, patrons squat on plastic stools as they dive into Northern Vietnamese fare and dig into chicken cartilage and stuffed snails. The street over hosts the humble, yet bustling Chinese bakeries and family-run restaurants that have been passed down through generations. And down the block sits Ha’s Snack Bar, a tiny locale infusing classic wine bar dishes like oysters and snails with Vietnamese flair. Lai Rai never set out to be generational. Yet it’s now inextricably part of a new resurgence of cultural wine bars popping up around New York City. It stands to be an iconic addition to the Lower East Side. 

Wine bars are community spaces masquerading as indulgences. They transform into unintentional places of gathering—third spaces where people linger longer than the consumption requires. Lai Rai understands this magic. Creating not just a place to drink—but a portal to a collective experience—Lai Rai is a sum of its team: Vietnamese, European, and quintessentially New York. 

This, perhaps, is how our stories survive: little by little, lai rai. Carried across generations—not through museums, but through moments of shared pleasure.



Lai Rai, found at 76 Forsyth Street, NY, NY is open Monday to Thursday 6-10PM, Friday to Saturday 5PM-12AM, and Sunday from 5-10PM.



Contributors Annie Zhou is Jersey-grown, Manhattan-aged. She fuels her writing & photography with pineapple buns & hojicha.