Vietnamese Cuisine and Disappointments

Vietnamese Cuisine and Disappointments
Happened two places, so far, with a distant Austin echo, listen can you hear Old Austin in the reverb?

Monstrously hungry, heading south on I-35, I pulled up to a BBQ place only to be deterred by the crowd. Around the corner, there was a newish Pho palace, sure, after years in Austin’s little Pac-Rim “Asia,” I got to love real Pho.

Elastic memory one:

Pho place in old, east Austin, the requisite Asian-appearing staff with a Feng Shui Buddha in the entrance, blaring music from the kitchen? Conjunto y Tejano. I found it oddly amusing at the time.

The time I spent in North Austin, I chased a girl up there, moved in, moved out, stayed in North Austin a year or so, and I got real used to this one place for pho — to the point that I was frequently the only round-eye in the place at lunch-time. From old East Austin where I was the palest guy to old North Austin, again, where I was clearly a foreign minority.

Doesn’t bother me, and more often, I used to take it as a badge of honor, me, having stumbled into a place that only caters to a subset I don’t normally belong to.

This recent trip, as a replacement for replacement BBQ? One of the commutes to and from Austin, for work. The place looked right, big letters said, “PHO,” and being Austin, I figured it would be good. The bewildering menu was a long list of ingredients, finally, to the point that I couldn’t understand what all was in the noodle-broth.

Much to my dismay, a very Anglo-looking guy stepped up to the counter, and he was helped by another, very-white female. So disappointing, as I was quite used to Asian appearances in a place that had Pho.

“White folks, damn.”

I glanced at the menu, and instead of ordering by number, I just asked for the one with all the stuff in it, then I had the guy recite the ingredients, noodle-broth, beef-broth, with “Soft tendon, eye round, fatty brisket, bible tripe, beef…” It’s a bunch of animal parts.

That’s the one. All the stuff. Big bowl of noodle soup with all those various meats, and then, savory fresh basil, cilantro was a North Austin neighborhood affection, I suppose, and then, fresh, sliced peppers.

Quite good. Excellent, except for the white people ambiance.

In North Austin, and elsewhere, I got used to Vietnamese Iced Coffee, too. Essentially, it’s a small, individual serving size of French Roast coffee, then a glass with ice and a spoonful sweetened, condensed milk at the bottom. Drip the coffee through, then pour over ice. Good stuff. Iced, sugary, caffeinated goodness.

Warm, spring afternoon in San Antonio. I rang off the phone, and walked into Halcyon (Blue Star), thinking that the place brought back memories of old Austin and Ruta Maya.

Plus ca change…

As the French expression goes.

The Pisces making coffee asked what I wanted, and on a whim, I asked for their version of Vietnamese Coffee, iced.

Iced espresso with not quite enough condensed, sweetened milk. Just not the same. Faulty presentation, less than stellar execution.

“White folks, damn.”

Should repeat that chorus?

How to eat Pho. I never knew.

As they used to say? “Never mind; it’s an Austin thing.”