Sixth Time's the Charm
When I was younger and still living in China, I had little idea of what American's were like, not to mention what they ate. Back in the '80s we didn't have KFC or McDonald's to grease our lips with. I had heard of butter and cheese (something I still can't fully appreciate...shocking, I know); and I knew about milk. Come to think of it, dairy wasn't huge where I came from. We were all about soy...
So when I got off the plane in the heart of America -- California -- I did not think twice when my dad took my mom and me to eat Pho for our first meal in the U.S. Maybe he was thinking of transitioning our palates from Far East to Western by way of Vietnam? Maybe. Nonetheless, Pho, pronounced "fuh," is one of my favorite foods; it is essentially beef noodle soup: beef broth, various beef cuts, and rice noodles. Until i moved to DC, I had never been to a Pho place that didn't give you mounds of Thai basil, jalapeƱos, lime, and mung bean sprouts to toss in the hot soup.
Warning: if they don't give you the basil, get up and leave. Don't even pay. They are fake Vietnamese. Faux Pho, I call it.
There is one place I can barely tolerate down the street from work that I go to when seriously craving Pho. It is fine, but our server gave us mint instead of basil...wtf? I have heard of this place called Pho 75 in Arlington that was supposedly the best and cheapest in the DC Metro area. But after 5 failed attempts due to poor planning, laziness, and work I was starting to go nuts. (You wouldn't like me when I'm hungry. Lisa:Hungry::Hulk:Mad) The place also closes at 8pm, which is a bummer. But yesterday, at 7pm, Danny and I were determined, epically determined, to devour this evasive Pho for dinner. Anthony met us, too.
It was delicious and all that I wanted. Cheap. Big portions. And didn't leave a weird aftertaste. One downer: CASH ONLY...and don't count on the BP down the street.
Here's a link to Anthony's review of Pho 75.
-Bo