Vietnamese to please

Fresh, generous and flavourful, Pho
Tay Ho’s dishes trigger a feeding frenzy

by A.J. KINIK

Deep into the Upsell Era, it’s refreshing somehow to find a restaurant that dissuades you from ordering certain dishes, either out of concern that you might be over-ordering, or because your waiter feels you might be making the “wrong” decision. Pho Tay Ho is just such a restaurant.

The thing is, I didn’t learn this on my first visit. On that occasion, one frosty winter’s night back in 2007, I was introduced to the Pho Tay Ho experience by a couple of loyal devotees who were quick with reliable suggestions. Advice was given, choices were made and our order was taken without incident. And when the food arrived, I understood full well my friends’ affection for the place: the ingredients were fresh, the portions generous and the flavours were so good they triggered a bit of a feeding frenzy.

Since that time, though, I’ve noticed that when I try to branch out and sample other items on Pho Tay Ho’s rather extensive menu, I’m often directed not to. And friends of mine have reported the same thing. So, for instance, you go in, you scan the menu, and you’re curious about all of those noodle bowls that come with “shredded pork.” The response we kept getting from our waiters was something along the lines of, “Nah, you wouldn’t like that. Try X instead.” I’d always take their suggestion, and I was never disappointed with any of the recommended dishes. But I still wanted to know what these other items (“shredded pork,” “sour pork” etc.) were, and why they’d been deemed too challenging for someone like myself.

Well, this time around, we finally outsmarted them. Actually, it was ridiculously easy to get a taste of “shredded pork”—you just had to order it as part of a spring roll ($2), instead of as a main course. (It all seems so obvious now.) And I can tell you that now I understand why the waiters at Pho Tay Ho are so judicious about who gets “shredded pork.” It’s not a taste thing, it’s not an appearance thing, it’s a textural thing. The taste is fine—the thing that’s funny about it is that about two to three seconds afterwards, the texture goes gritty on you. So, not bad, definitely an acquired taste. Much, much more of a crowd-pleaser was the “sour pork” spring roll ($2), which turned out to be a kind of rustic pork pâté that had been pickled. Excellent, and a lot more unique than your standard shrimp and chicken numbers ($2).

Also out of the ordinary was the menu’s only fish dish, Cha Ca Tay Ho ($15), a traditional preparation that’s both spicy (lots of turmeric) and highly herbal (lots of dill). I have no idea what the fish in question was. When I asked the maître d’, I was told, “I don’t know what kind of fish it is, and I’ve asked the boss and she doesn’t know either.” So we’ll just call it mystery fish, but mystery fish that comes sautéed with caramelized dill fronds and scallions, and is served alongside a heaping pile of rice noodles, a veritable cornucopia of fresh herbs, some toasted peanuts, an enormous shrimp cracker and a seriously funky mauve dipping sauce that our waiter told us was “shrimp sauce.” Definitely not for the faint of heart, but strangely addictive.

For the somewhat less adventurous, I’d recommend the Pho Tai Chin Nam ($7.50), a particularly mellow take on the Vietnamese classic, and the Com Tom Suon Nuong Op La ($11), an irresistible combination of grilled pork chops, grilled shrimp skewers and fried eggs, served with rice.

Ultimately, though, it’s the noodles that rule at Pho Tay Ho. And if you ask me, the winner and grand champeen continues to be #38, Bún Chao Nuong Tay Ho ($10), the grilled pork special. Like the Cha Ca Tay Ho, you get a massive amount of noodles and an unbelievable assortment of herbs, but you also get a nice big bowl of their caramelized (literally) grilled pork, and, as an added bonus, some tender, delicious perilla-wrapped pork patties. If there’s a better bún in town, I’ve yet to discover it.