Soup Opera

Pho Saigon

by David Snyder

Glancing over my receipt, I noticed a phrase listed beneath the bun bo hue (beef noodle soup) I'd ordered at Pho Saigon, a new Vietnamese noodle spot on Columbus Boulevard:"No gio heo." Roughly translated: "Don't add pig's feet."

The menu doesn't disclose it (my server didn't, either), but the restaurant's GM later explained to me that applying such whole-hog changes is standard at Pho Saigon. "A lot of the time, when we serve Americans, we don't put the pig's feet in there," explained Dan. (The restaurant refused to provide CP with his last name.) "Most of them don't like pork, anyway." They skimp on the shrimp paste for the same reason, and dial down the spice, too.

Dulling ethnic flavors for Westerners is nothing new. But serving Americans categorically different food than what's ordered, with no notice? That's something else entirely.

Bun bo hue isn't the only example of this practice, Dan revealed. For some customers, pho ga tuoi (pho with chicken) comes with bone-in dark meat. If you're American, though, it will likely contain skinless, boneless white meat. Though the pho tai gan arrives with the tendon listed on the menu, the kitchen still typically cooks the soup's steak well-done for Americans, instead of rare as advertised. As far as Pho Saigon is concerned, these modifications are what Americans prefer — and they likely appeal to the sensibilities of many diners. But why do they feel the need to make all my choices for me, instead of simply asking?

Such "rounding down" may explain why the base broths I sampled lacked depth, but even if they were more complex, the practice of ethnically triggered unilateral substitution is troubling enough for me to take my money elsewhere. (Other restaurants surely engage in similar practices — Pho Saigon was just particularly open to discussing it.)

It's a shame, because there are dishes here I really liked. Both the pork in the thit nuong cuon (a pork roll app) and the shrimp in the com tam tom nuong (broken rice with grilled shrimp) boasted wonderful caramelized sears. Red and mung beans granted the coconut-flavored che ba mua (rainbow ice) wonderful texture.

You won't get a bad bowl of soup at Pho Saigon, but if you're on the hunt for the real, honest deal, you may leave disappointed.

(david.snyder@citypaper.net)

Pho Saigon | Riverview Shopping Plaza, 1100 Columbus Blvd., 267-773-7305. Daily, 9 a.m.-9 p.m. Appetizers, $3-$10; noodle soups and pho, $5.50-$6.95; bun (rice vermicelli), $6.25-$8.50; com tam (broken rice), $6.50-$7.95. Wheelchair accessible.