A few days before boarding a plane to Vietnam, I suggested a gentle culinary intervention with a proper introduction to Vietnamese cuisine.
My husband believes all noodles are pasta and should be served only covered in tomato sauce. I, on the other hand, have long embraced any noodle dish as one of life’s greatest pleasures.
This made Pho Wagyu the perfect training ground.
In Hanoi, mornings begin at street cafes, where diners perch on impossibly low stools, leaning over steaming bowls of pho. The air is filled with the hum of motorbikes, the chatter of neighbors and the aroma of splendidly simmering broth.
Bowls are cleared, dishes are washed in buckets then stacked to dry in the open air. It is casual, communal and completely unpretentious.
In contrast, Pho Wagyu reveals a more polished interpretation of those flavors and rituals while maintaining the complexity and essence of the cuisine.
My husband approached the menu cautiously, like it might challenge his world view. But he quickly relaxed and put me in charge.
We began with the sausage roll ($6.50). Rice paper was dipped in water then wrapped tightly around a tangle of rice noodles, pickled vegetables and savory slices of sausage. This was vibrant and fresh, dipped in creamy, nutty peanut sauce.
The pork belly bao buns ($7.95) won him over. Cloud-like, pillowy and warm buns were filled with tender shreds of pork with a melt-in-your-mouth richness and coated in the sweet umami savoriness of hoisin sauce.
My husband’s entrée was the chicken fried rice ($17.95), which arrived in a portion generous enough to suggest leftovers. The rice was lightly toasted with a subtle smokiness. The chicken was sliced into tender strips, stir-fried in a hot wok, then drizzled with hoisin sauce, which added depth and a glossy finish.
Fried rice, after all, is a safe harbor and the flavors were complex yet familiar.
Naturally, I ordered the centerpiece: spicy beef pho ($17.95), which is actually pronounced “fuh” in Vietnam. The broth was deeply aromatic and richly layered with flavors that suggested hours of careful simmering. The bowl was full of silky, tender rice noodles, slices of onion and thin slices of beef that ranged from lean to luxuriously fatty.
The softer pieces melted into the soup, making each spoonful more satisfying than the last. Bright and crisp bean sprouts, cabbage and cilantro allowed me to build a bowl that was crunchy and herbaceous. The mister tasted the pho and appreciated the allure.
Pho Wagyu is approachable, polished and slightly adventurous. It bridges the gap between curiosity and comfort by delivering the flavors and spirit of Vietnamese cuisine in a welcoming setting while hinting at the bustling street culture from which these dishes originate.
As for my husband, he won’t be ordering pho for breakfast, which I maintain is a brilliant life choice. But he willingly ventured safely out of his comfort zone and was reassured that he would not starve on our tour of Southeast Asia.
Pho Wagyu
Lucie Regensdorf dines anonymously at the expense of TCPalm. Contact her at Lucie@theloveofcooking.com.
This article originally appeared on Treasure Coast Newspapers: Florida restaurant’s Vietnamese food transports you to Hanoi street cafe
Reporting by Lucie Regensdorf, Special to TCPalm / Treasure Coast Newspapers
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