By: Ronan Lynch
An aroma wafts through the air—slightly sweet but with a hint of spice. The sun, barely peaking over the trees, bathes the windows in a dull orange glow. It’s almost noon on a cold morning, the frosty weather chilled breath and numbed fingers, at the first destination that had set me out so early in the day: Pho 99.
Wavelength asked the student community to pick their favorite spots around campus for Pho, and after getting numerous responses, I was sent down to try each spot. During the winter weather, having a hot bowl of noodles with toppings and thinly cut meat warms the soul and is a visual delight.
I waver around the entrance. It’s the crack of dawn, and even on the early weekend, people are sitting down alone or with others. A bubbly waitress sets me down beside the wall. On the table stacked in the middle are green chopsticks bunched together reminiscent of bamboo jungles. The waiter comes by with a metal teapot, a small cup, and the menu.
The order I had at each place was nearly the same: the house special. In a vast bowl filled to the brim with broth were thinly sliced pieces of steak and brisket, meatballs, tripe, and tendon.
Green onions float to the edge as broth is filled to the brim. Pho 99 is often the busiest of the places, its cramped parking lot, and tight corners, make the inside lively most days. When it’s at its peak, orders are hustled from packed tables as quickly as players moving around the court. The quaint restaurant is a staple of the Western community as it’s the closest place to order Vietnamese pho.
A small plate is placed beside the bowl—a slice of lime, sprigs, and bean sprouts. Clear pieces of tripe rise to the surface. Its chewy texture allows one to savor the rich and delicate addition to the bowl. The first instinct for a person as the pho is placed in front of them is to inhale the inviting spices. An irresistible fragrance as the notes of coriander and ginger flutter onto your palate. As the tendon floated around, each piece melted into my mouth. Tendon could honestly be compared to Jello, with how easy it slides down and doesn’t take much effort to chew through.
Pho 99 was the place most people said in their responses, and for good reason, as the broth was drained, noodles slurped, and slices of meat delicately eaten, an empty bowl sat in front of me. As paper lanterns hung above, I saw a glowing reflection of myself in the mirror on the far side of the wall.
If I had to give Pho 99 a rating, out of 5, I’d rate it a strong 4/5.
Later into the day, I wandered across the street to Pho 360. Most students also replied with the restaurant that was a hole in the wall next to Rite Aid and a T-Mobile outlet store. It was hard to replicate the warm and rejuvenating atmosphere exuding from the brown walls of Pho 99. As I pulled open the door, I was reminded of a middle school cafeteria, marching to the counter, and asked to sit down anywhere.
A couple of dollars cheaper for nearly the same order. The broth from Pho 99 was elegant and richly textured, and while there was a hint of that same palatable pleasure, it wasn’t quite the same. The noodles submerged were an idle plaything as I poked around for the slices of meat. By the time I was finished, pouring broth into a container, I wondered if the bowl at Pho 99 and the one at Pho 360 had the same number of pieces of steak.
About those plastic containers. It’s hard to pour a hot bowl of Pho into them. I can’t imagine whoever invented those round bowls had ever thought people would cautiously pour them into takeout containers. Everywhere you go, you’ll find them stacked in the corner on restaurant shelves. Professional chefs use those takeout containers to store food at their homes, so they must be useful for storage. But it was a challenging process each time I had to hold the leftover pho over the container and carefully pour it. The broth would leak down the sides and noodles would flop onto the bowl edges.
Regardless, Pho 360 acts as the poor man’s Pho 99. It’s slightly cheaper, the portions are nearly the same, and the quality is quite similar at both places as well. The experience is vastly different, as when you sit down at Pho 99, you’re treated like a stranger at a person’s home, given tea, to warm your cold figure.
The small plate of herbs given on the side of the Pho is also different. Thai basil was noticeably absent and the portioning of bean sprouts was a tad smaller. But again, the pho is cheaper. The quality of the meat was flavorful and the best addition to the bowl were the cut pieces of tendon. Beef tendon melts in your mouth and enhances the taste of the broth and noodles. The thinly sliced steak cuts were incredibly soft and easy to rip apart as they were almost a liquid.
I would give Pho 360 a 3/5.
The last place people answered was another hole in the wall next to Whole Foods Market. I have never been to the place before until last weekend. Saigon Café is a smaller restaurant owned by a family. It can be told the warming ambiance of a place by the drapes over the windows and the soothing lights indoors.
Noon, it’s quiet, and a small Vietnamese man walks over and sets a large bowl down on the table. A television mounted on the wall plays a Vietnamese comedy show, where three women dance and laugh on stage. It’s oddly comforting, a dull orange glow on the ceiling fan coats the green booths and tan walls. An assumption that it’d be the most expensive place to order pho, considering its location, had been disproven after the price totaled to be around seventeen dollars which is about the same as Pho 99.
The portion size. The bowl was a behemoth. Considering the price, it was nearly double the size at the other two places I ordered from. The visual arrangement of the order was otherworldly as the green herbs and meats were stacked like a mountain peak. The small plate beside the pho, with basil and sprouts, looked cleanly washed and were a vibrant green. There was even a little container to add heat to the pho.
Let’s discuss tripe. An edible lining from the stomachs of cows. A popular addition, the lean protein is rich in collagen for healthy skin and nails. It’s also high in Vitamin B12 which is good for red blood cell production.
But, as a meat, it’s chewy and mostly gets its flavor from the broth. Book tripe, the specific cut of lining most commonly found in pho, is thinner than the most prized type of tripe: honeycomb. As the chopsticks poked around the large bowl for the different cuts, the tripe clung to the edges in large tails. At the other places, the tripe was separated from the larger cut. But at Saigon Café, everything was kept together.
If I had to rate Saigon Café, it’d be a solid 5/5. You can’t go wrong if you go here, as it’s about the same price as Pho 99 for a larger portion size. The quality of the meat was divine and the broth was stupendous. At one point, I had closed by eyes from how overwhelmed by senses were.
When a person reads meatballs on a menu at a Vietnamese restaurant, most would assume the slabs of meat festering together with thick spaghetti. Vietnamese meatballs are made of ground pork and seasoned with fish sauce, black pepper, garlic, and cilantro.
A bowl of pho is a pool of varying textures coming together to delight the soul. Each place was different, but the bowl filled with broth and various meats soothed and satisfied. Especially during the winter, when students at Western have to wear more than three layers to keep their noses from falling off. So, if I had to answer what the best place around campus to get Pho was, I’d say the Saigon Café.
