Feeling at Home at The Pho House
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| The Pho House, on N Tarrant Pkwy right before 377 |
Duy had been talking about how so many vietnamese restaurants these days were open until late because of the tendency of people under the influence (whether it be drugs or alcohol) to go out and stuff their faces with whatever they can find. My parents had actually had pho earlier that day in a (for lack of a better word) whitewashed establishment that, while they served pretty good pho in my opinion, lacked a sense of authenticity.
For those who don't know, pho is a staple Vietnamese soup. It has a rich broth typically made from a base of bones or beef with noodles, brisket (asian-style), tripe, tendon, meatballs (again, asian-style), and some restaurants include more choices like raw beef. There are some establishments that serve "seafood" pho, but while these soups are delicious in their own right, they are not actual pho. Real pho is made only with meat. On top of the meat there is the option to add bean sprouts, mint, jalapeños, cilantro, even a lime. Over the last couple decades, pho's popularity has skyrocketed in the United Stated very much in the same way that sushi has.
Anyway, enough backstory, it's time go into detail about our experience at this place.
If you've ever been to a Vietnamese restaurant, the first thing that hits you the moment you walk through the front doors is the heavy smell of deliciousness (there's no other way of putting it). Vietnamese restaurants, like their supermarkets, STINK. But it's a good stink, an inviting, savory aroma that grabs you by the hand and gently tugs you to the nearest empty table so you can order whatever is causing that heavenly scent as quickly as you can.
When we walked through the doors of The Pho House, Duy and I were not met with that iconic aroma. Now, it is important to note here that we had decided to visit this establishment at TWELVE IN THE MORNING so it's to be granted that they wouldn't necessarily be on their A game like they would be during lunch or dinner hours. So it's okay, I'm sure during the day this place smells great.
The Pho House was empty except for one couple (again, because it was midnight) so Duy and I picked out a random table to sit at. I noticed his eyes roaming around the white walls of the place, hovering for just moments on the humble decorations that were on the walls. There were small figurines of the Buddha, smiling, waving cats, a small, somewhat stereotypical sense of Asia.
"What do you think?" I asked, knowing that a restaurant's appearance was critical for its success. If a place looks like junk and the first thing a customer saw was junk, they would assume that the food would match.
"It lacks that traditional aspect of pho places," Duy said. "The tables, chairs, too modern. Plus they don't have the little tray that you can spin around to get your chopsticks and sauces and other condiments."
I shrugged. We were in Fort Worth and the place wasn't exactly a gourmet restaurant, it was somewhere you went to eat good food at a reasonable price, so I didn't mind the somewhat non-vietnamese look.
Our waitress came to our table with menus in hand and placed them in front of us, asking for our drinks. I got a water but Duy ordered a vietnamese coffee, one of his favorite drinks, something he calls the "nectar of the gods" when it's made properly.
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| The Pho House menu, reasonably priced |
We looked over the menu. I went straight to their pho section and saw a couple pricey items: the restaurant's special pho, Quý's Phớ, and the all meat pho. I mentioned the price to Duy by whistling softly but he quickly pointed out the middle section of the menu where it gave you the option to build your own bowl. I was glad to see this made the food much more affordable for someone who just wants to eat without feeling financial pressure from spending money.
There are other awesome and, I'm sure, well-made and tasty dishes on this menu but for this particular post we are going to focus on their pho since this place is called, after all, The Pho House.
Our waitress came back with my water and Duy's vietnamese coffee.
"It's a little bitter," she said. "That's just how I like to drink it, but if it's too much for you we can make it to fit your tastes."
Duy grinned and immediately put the straw to his mouth. I watched him suck a significant helping out of the cup. His eyes shot up in surprise as did one of his hands in a thumbs-up.
"Dude, taste it," he said. "That's real coffee."
I put the straw to my lips and took a sip. The coffee was intensely bitter but the sweetness from the milk mixed in wonderfully leaving me wanting to drink more right away. The bitterness stayed in my mouth all the way up to our first bite of pho.
Since there was no one else in the restaurant by this point we got our orders in quickly and only had to wait about ten minutes, a decent time for the dish to be prepared properly, for our food to come out. Duy had ordered the Quý's Phớ as well as an order of bone marrow. For me, since he knew what he was doing, he ordered a customized bowl with brisket, meatballs, tendon, and rare steak which was put on the side with a bowl of piping hot broth for us to cook the steak in ourselves.
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| My own bowl: Tendon, brisket, meatball, rare steak on the side |
The first thing to taste with any pho is the broth. Blowing several times to keep our tongues from blistering, we put a spoonful of the translucent, brown goodness into our mouths and let it rush down our throats, warming us up on the inside. Immediately I noticed there was something about it that was different, something I wasn't used to tasting. Duy noticed it, too.
"There's something off," I said.
"I don't know about off," Duy replied taking another hot sip. "I think they put fish sauce in the broth." If this were true, the pho we were eating would've been northern style, rather than the typical southern style. We asked the manager how the pho was made and he told us their procedure: no artificial flavoring, no fish sauce used, typical ingredients--and the kicker--they used actual bones for the broth base. That was the difference. Even for restaurants this isn't always done because using bones for broth can get quite expensive. But everything they used was real, and it reflected in the broth. What we tasted wasn't something off, but something rich, something real.
With that mystery settled we dug into our food, finishing it within minutes and groaning in pleasure as our palates danced with the many flavors that come with this special Vietnamese soup. At one point we took a break to try out the bone marrow Duy had ordered.
Disclosure: I'd never had bone marrow before that day, so I have no idea how it's supposed to taste.
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| Our full table |
The actual bone looked pretty, with a slightly darker tone that gave it a rugged look--if such a thing is possible for a bone. Duy and I both grabbed a small spoon and scooped out some of the marrow. I saw it jiggling on my spoon as I brought it to my mouth and my initial thought was, "huh, kinda like jello." I closed my eyes and chewed slowly, savoring my first experience with real bone marrow.
It had a strong, meaty taste but such a soft texture it seemed to melt in my mouth. There was a slight crispiness around the edges, too, from the bits that had been touching the actual bone. It was extremely hot, even after blowing, but that also helped enhance the flavor. For my first time eating bone marrow, I wasn't disappointed.
Duy had some minor suspicions that the bone was fried for a short time rather than grilled like bone marrow usually is, but when we asked our waitress she told us how it was made: baking for eight hours and then boiling it the next day. Duy was a little skeptical of this; because had the bone marrow been baked for eight hours the fat would've melted away, but it was definitely there. He guessed the actual baking time was more like two hours. Regardless, the baking at least did explain why there were no grill marks.
Only too soon, we finished our food and bade the waitress and manager a good night as we left them to close up the restaurant (it was one in the morning by now).
"I can't believe I never knew this place existed," I said, hiccuping happily.
"The things you find when you look for them," Duy took another long sip from his Vietnamese coffee. Watching him, I couldn't help but feel a small vestige of the bitterness that had lingered in my mouth from my one sip return.
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Ratings
Atmosphere ------- 3/5
Service ------------ 4.5/5
Food --------------- 4.5/5
Presentation ------ 4/5
Pricing: Moderate
Would return? Yes
Would recommend? Yes
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