Alex
Google
I’ve been coming to Au Parc since 2009, and I can confirm with anthropological certainty that while restaurants in Vietnam live fast and die young (average shelf life: 4.5 years, like yoghurt), Au Parc is the café equivalent of a fine wine—aging gracefully while watching me not do the same.
Over the years, this place has witnessed the rise and fall of currencies, governments, and more tragically, my first marriage. It then quietly toasted my remarriage and eventually kept my children entertained with bread baskets while I drank coffee pretending to be Parisian. If you want a venue that doubles as a family chronicle, skip the diary—just come here every weekend and order a flat white. The food? Still excellent. The salads have that smug balance of virtue and flavour, and the salmon is grilled like it actually went to university. The décor? Essentially unchanged, apart from the expansion into the next premises, proving that architectural evolution can be achieved with a hammer and a quiet confidence. The vibe? Perfect for sipping coffee, staring moodily out the window, and convincing yourself you’re in a French novel.
Now, management has started offering coasters if you leave a Google review. I never asked for the coasters. I don’t need validation, and neither does Au Parc. This café has survived for 15+ years in a city that reinvents itself every Tuesday. It is validation.
So yes, five stars. Not for the coasters, not for the coffee, not even for the lentils—but for being the one constant in my life that didn’t end up in the divorce settlement.
