Given the season, the state of the economy, and the coming elections, I find myself craving comfort food right now - cheap comfort food. I want to sit down at a table, have someone slide a steaming bowl of soup in front of me, tousle what's left of my hair, and tell me that everything is going to be all right. Soup is healing, soup is restorative, soup can calm an anxious soul. And did I mention that it's cheap? I immediately thought of matzoh ball soup, but my mother-in-law is 400 miles away. There's posole, but the best in the city is available only on Saturdays from Monterrey Taco at the Public Market. That leaves Vietnamese pho which, happily, Rochester has in abundance.
Pho is the simplest of soups: good beef broth enhanced with herbs and spices, rice noodles, slices of rare beef (and, if you have a somewhat more daring palate, meatballs, tripe, beef tendon, or brisket), and an assortment of garnishes including bean sprouts, Thai basil, lime, chili paste, hoisin, and, often, jalapenos or Thai bird peppers. Eaten as a breakfast food in Vietnam, it is a staple of Vietnamese restaurants in the United States. When done well, it is among the most satisfying of meals. The broth is nearly clear, salty and rich tasting (with spicy notes of star anise, galangal, and white pepper) with a slightly sweet undertone. It smells good and tastes even better, round in the mouth but not at all greasy.
The rice noodles vary in size - some thicker than others - but they should be cooked to a point just past al dente. They should not break when picked up with chopsticks. They should be fun and easy to slurp (slurping is essential). They should leave your mouth and lips feeling "happy," invigorated rather than gummy.
The meat varies widely in both type and quality, but it is universally described as "steak" and is usually sliced paper thin so that it boils in the piping hot broth. Overall, pho should taste fresh and vibrant. It is good for whatever ails you - warming inside and out, spicy enough to clear the stuffiest head, and mild enough to soothe the worst hangover (national or personal).
The best pho is found at restaurants and noodle shops that have friendly, even motherly, service. Dac Hoa (20 Monroe Avenue) is a fair example of this. The owner takes a real interest in her customers. She always asks about my family, expresses concern about how hard I work (I tend to go there on nights when I'm too tired or stressed out to cook), and offers me a cup of tea for the drive home. Dining at Dac Hoa is like eating in your mother's kitchen. Service is erratic but friendly, presentation is very casual. But the pho is also quite good. The broth is slightly golden tinged but very near the clear white of good pho broth. It is rich, salty and neutral enough to need a good splash of chili paste and lime to help it reach its full potential. The noodles are perfectly cooked, although a bit wider than the usual. Garnishes are heaped on a single plate - sprouts, basil, lemon wedge, a couple slices of jalapeno. Cilantro and onion top the soup. This is a solid bowl of pho, and you'll always leave feeling well taken care of. And, at $5.95 for a generous bowl, you'd be hard pressed to find a better cheap lunch in the city.
Pho Duong Dong (182 Otis Street) offers up very good pho, and at $6.95 for a bowl large enough to bathe a baby in, it could be the best value of any kind in Rochester. The broth here is a bit on the golden side, and a little sweeter than you'd get from well-tended bones alone. Still, it's flavorful, and the garnishes are more than generous: a large plate overflowing with pearl white bean sprouts, basil, lime, an intimidatingly large number of thick jalapeno slices, and two or three bird peppers. The noodles, though, are where this soup falls short. Although not cooked to the point of dissolving, they are overcooked and somewhat gummy. Service, as you might guess, is less than warm. Regulars clearly get better, and much faster, service than those who are just passing through, but even then things seem rushed and erratic.
By way of contrast, the pho ($5.50) offered at SEA (741 Monroe Avenue) has a nearly identical broth to the one at Pho Duong Dong, but the noodles are cooked perfectly, and the garnishes are abundant and very fresh. The service, while often harried, is always friendly. The waitresses always stop in the course of rushing about to flirt with my 3-year-old dining companion and bring him extra sprouts after he polishes off the first plateful.
Rochester's newest contender on the pho scene is also its best. The pho ($5.95) at New Ming (1132 Monroe Avenue) is a thing apart from the rest. The broth is almost consomme clear, and full of flavor. The scent of star anise, galangal, and lemongrass are immediately apparent in the steam rising from the bowl, and a combination of white pepper and maybe cinnamon add interest to the beefy-tasting broth. Rich but not greasy, a fine net of fat droplets shimmers on top of the bowl, the surface broken by scallions, cilantro, and onion.
New Ming uses brisket as the default in its pho, and the thick slices of meat are meltingly tender, real players in the dish. The noodles are perfect for slurping. The condiments - presented on a plate that resembles a painter's palette - are fresh, abundant, and attractive. And the service is without peer. On a recent rainy afternoon, I stopped in for a bowl of this elixir and the owner, Karen Poon, did everything she could to make me feel at home. Warm inside and out, dry, and content for the first time in days, I hardly noticed the economy crashing and the election spinning out of control on the big screen TV above my head.