Chef Tue Nguyen’s relationship with food evolved as she got older. Growing up in Vietnam, she hadn’t yet fallen in love with it. Food was everywhere, but it felt more like sustenance than connection. Eating with all 10 of her cousins, her aunties, and her grandparents felt routine.
It wasn’t until she moved to the United States at age 8 that she realized how special those little moments had been—how her mother’s habit of preparing full spreads of Vietnamese food wasn’t just about dinner. It was a way to stay connected to their traditions in an unfamiliar place.
“She’d pack my lunchbox for school, and when I opened it in the cafeteria, other kids would look at it and say, ‘Yo, what is that?’ and it was too early on for me to even understand what they were saying because of the language barrier, or even that I should have felt embarrassed,” Nguyen says. “I didn’t care about what they said. I knew my mom was a great cook, and I knew my food was amazing. So this is when I started to appreciate Vietnamese food more as a whole.”
Growing up in southern California, Nguyen struggled to make friends and communicate, so she turned to television to learn English. One day, while flipping through channels, she saw something unexpected—Vietnam. It was a scene from one of Anthony Bourdain’s shows, and it stopped her in her tracks.
Quick-fire:
Favorite spice to cook with: Bird’s eye chilies
Favorite foodie city: Los Angeles
Dish you’re most proud of creating: Honey-glazed shrimp
If you could cook for anyone in the world: My mom
Favorite type of music to cook to: None. Silence.
“At this point, I had never seen Vietnam on television, but I knew that place; it was instantly so familiar. And the way he talked about Vietnamese food painted a picture much different than I had ever envisioned it to be,” Nguyen says. “I fell in love with his passion. It inspired me to look deeper into my relationship with food and eating.”
She soon discovered YouTube’s trove of online cooking content and began flirting with the idea of becoming a chef. Though that path wasn’t typical in her traditional Vietnamese family, she applied to culinary school—against their wishes—and committed fully.
After graduating in March 2020, Nguyen began working as a prep cook at Wolfgang Puck’s Spago. Inspired by the YouTube creators she grew up watching, she started posting restaurant reviews and mukbangs (eating videos) in her spare time.
But when the pandemic hit, she couldn’t go out to eat as often, and the restaurant industry was facing uncertainty. She considered pivoting to recipe videos on TikTok, but struggled with the fear of judgment.
“Being fresh out of culinary school, I felt like I had this mindset where I didn’t have enough experience to share these recipes. I didn’t even have my own restaurant yet. But the pandemic changed everything for me,” Nguyen says. “I realized people wanted to see something practical. My content was reaching people younger than me who had recently moved out and weren’t taught how to cook. I realized they were looking up to me.”
Under the handle @TwayDaBae, Nguyen leaned fully into the world of social media, sharing how-to videos and demystifying Vietnamese cuisine. TikTok, she discovered, was the perfect platform to tell her culinary story and inspire people to cook. Her mission became clear: make Vietnamese food approachable and dismantle the perception that it’s intimidating or out of reach.
“Through my videos, I wanted to encapsulate the idea that people shouldn’t be afraid to try Vietnamese food or practice knife cuts. You don’t have to be a Michelin-starred chef to do these things. They are simple concepts and basic techniques done well,” Nguyen says. “I want people to see my content and be inspired. I want them to realize cooking delicious meals for themselves can be easy.”
Her videos quickly gained traction, racking up millions of views, 17.8 million likes, and nearly 700,000 followers. Nguyen’s approachability and authenticity struck a chord, and her refusal to gatekeep culinary knowledge helped build a loyal community.
“I’ve realized that people on social media love going on a journey to figure shit out with you. They want to see behind the scenes of how you do things,” Nguyen adds. “There is a desire to be as real and honest as possible with the challenges you’re facing … we’re dismantling stigmas around what a chef looks like and can be.”
Nguyen’s online success soon translated into real-world opportunities. She hosted a string of sold-out pop-ups with The h.wood Group, Family Style Festival, ComplexCon, Madame Vo in New York, and with chef Roy Choi in Los Angeles. These events allowed her to explore different service styles and sharpen her identity as a chef.
In 2023, Nguyen opened her first restaurant, DiDi, in the heart of West Hollywood. Described as “a love letter to Vietnam,” the menu showcases dishes like sea bass aguachile, crab fried rice, Viet beef braise, and mango rice pudding—each infused with the flavors and stories of her heritage.
“[DiDi] allows me to paint a whole picture of Vietnam and create a ‘worth it’ experience,” Nguyen says. “If someone has been following me online and comes to experience my space and try my food in real life, I want them to feel satisfied. That is my one goal to achieve with my restaurant.”
In early 2025, Nguyen partnered with Local Kitchens, a San Francisco-based concept known for its multi-cuisine menus. This marked the brand’s first Vietnamese-inspired offering and a chance for Nguyen to share her take on heritage dishes with a new audience.
One standout item on the menu is Nguyen’s take on “broken rice plates” (or cơm tấm), a street food staple with deep roots in southern Vietnam. Once a dish made from discarded rice grains and served by rural families, cơm tấm has become a powerful symbol for Nguyen.
“It hurts me when restaurants have broken rice plates on their menu, but it’s not authentic. It’s a simple ingredient, but it makes the biggest difference in terms of taste and flavor. Embracing the story and honoring the tradition of this grain of rice was the mission,” Nguyen says. “There’s so much history behind this dish, and I always told myself I’d have a broken rice concept someday … Local Kitchens was the perfect avenue to share my vision.”
Nguyen still allows herself creative freedom, exploring Vietnamese flavors through new interpretations. Her dishes, like Spicy Pork Belly Fried Rice and Rich Pork Belly Tấm, offer playful spins on tradition while keeping the essence intact. For every menu she designs, she balances heritage with bold updates that give guests something to come back for.
Her influence goes beyond social media and restaurants. In 2024, Nguyen released her debut cookbook, “Di An,” a collection of recipes and stories that chronicle her evolution as a chef, creator, and entrepreneur.
“At first, I didn’t even know what my book was going to be about. I didn’t have time to think about it. Normally, a cookbook is something chefs do when they aren’t trying to open restaurants,” Nguyen says. “But it ended up writing itself as my journey went on. I included recipes that I grew up with, ones I used while I was on the road doing pop-ups, and ones that I was creating for my restaurant. It shows the progression of me figuring it all out, my journey as a chef, a content creator, a big sister, and an entrepreneur.”
Nguyen’s ultimate goal is to open a restaurant in Vietnam and employ her family there—creating generational wealth and giving back to her roots. She also plans to continue hosting immersive trips to Vietnam, now an annual tradition, where she and her fans eat their way across the country and gather inspiration for future recipes and pop-ups.
“It’s exciting to see Vietnamese American cuisine start to pop off in the U.S.; it’s like watching food evolve in real time,” Nguyen says. “And people are constantly challenging new concepts. In Vietnam, there’s always something new to try. It’s exciting, and it’s something that we should continue to embrace here as well and stay open-minded.”
