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I’m fairly new to Pho scene here in LA, so when I was told of a new “hipster” Pho spot in the heart of Silverlake I jumped at the chance to check it out. After a quick “googling” I was on my way. The Pho Cafe is nestled on the corner of Sunset and Silverlake Boulevards in a one story strip mall. Thankfully I had the presence of mind to print a map before I left home because I didn’t see any signs on the street outside. Parking is scarce in front of the restaurant and street parking is limited too because of construction.

Arriving at about seven pm, we were greeted by a waiter who showed us to our table. Though we were seated right away it is not uncommon to be waiting in a 15-20 minute line for a seat especially on weekend evenings. The interior of the Pho Cafe is small but the very functional and the modern dining room is definitely not your average Pho place. It’s clearly designed to appeal to the younger, more hip crowd than the usual dark, cluttered Vietnamese-themed spots. Seating at the Pho Cafe is on one long row of small modular tables which can be arranged to accommodate both large and small individual parties easily. The modern décor includes fluorescent light bulbs suspended over each table but these were not on during my visit. The kitchen is along the other wall, small but very efficient, with large pots of broth simmering. From our table we could watch our food being prepared, although some tables do not have a kitchen view.

The menu at Pho Cafe is fairly average in length—-a basic Vietnamese menu. What makes this cafe different is the simple execution and technique that results in very flavorful dishes.

The dishes most often recommended at Pho restaurants are Vermicelli with Lemongrass Steak, and of course Pho of all kinds. I ordered a rare steak Pho, vermicelli with lemongrass, and fried egg rolls in order to put the staples to the test. If the basics aren’t delicious, I reasoned, the more complicated dishes are unlikely to be any better. Attention to details, in my experience, tells the story in culinary experiences.

The Pho Cafe broth has a very smooth and balanced flavor, with hints of star anise. It was very hearty and robust without being heavy. The vermicelli noodles are very good as well, not gummy or sticky with a mild flavor that does not detract from the broth. The star of the dish is the thinly sliced rare tenderloin steak. At the Pho Cafe the tenderloin steak is exceptionally tender and flavorful. Unlike other restaurants it was not stringy or overcooked and it came perfectly rare.

The Vermicelli with Lemongrass Steak also had a really good flavor. The noodles are super thin and tasty. The other ingredients, green onions and bean sprouts, were perfectly cooked, flavorful and still slightly crunchy. The lemongrass which is tossed into the mix was good quality with a distinct, fresh texture and taste.

The Pho Cafe’s Egg Rolls are filled with mushrooms, noodles, pork and chopped carrot. They were seasoned well but not spicy and were fried golden brown, crisp and delicious. They were fresh tasting, not gummy or oily.

The cafe serves beer, soft drinks and an assortment of teas. I ordered the homemade limeade which the waiter recommended. It was a little sweet for my taste but still good.

Service was a little impersonal for a new restaurant, and I would have appreciated having my water refilled when it was empty. The food arrived quickly.

Dinner for two at the Pho Cafe runs about 20 dollars (without alcohol) which is a good value. I would definitely recommend stopping by if you are in the area or are looking for a new place to try.

Pancakes and Sausage -

   Two hotcakes, topped with a pad of our homemade butter, served with two Aidells Apricot Ginger breakfast links.

Burger and Fries -

  100%  80/20 grass fed beef served on a whole wheat bun. topped with grilled onions, butter lettuce, a thick slice of heirloom tomato, and our spicy brown mustard. Served with duck fat fried garlic french fries.

Bananas Foster -

  Our homemade vanilla ice cream topped with slices of bananas in a butter, brown sugar, cinnamon and dark rum sauce. Served Table side.

There was a time when I didn’t know what I wanted to do with myself.   I think we all experience that feeling from time to time, but for me it wasn’t that long ago.  I would sit around a lot thinking of some of the random things I might like to do for a living—what kind of career would give me a life that would make me happy. When “Chef” crossed my mind, I was a bit intimidated, but then I remembered my first experience in a professional kitchen. It was at a “Papa John’s”, a chain pizza franchise in West Los Angeles.

My boss told me when he hired me that the first thing that any good worker in his establishment had to learn was “how to “slap out a pizza”. I remember perfectly the day I went in to learn to do it!  I was excited enough to get up early and actually get to work before it was time for me to clock in, something I hadn’t done before at any of my other jobs. In fact, I got up without my alarm clock, and actually started to look forward to my day even before my morning shower woke me up.

 I vividly remember walking in to the store, being hit with the wonderful aroma of yeast and freshly baked pizza.  These were combined with a little garlic and tomato and the fragrance of some herbs and spices. The smell was inviting, and I could feel the warmth of the ovens as I walked by them. ”This is going to be a good day!”  I told myself.

When my boss saw me, he directed me over to Enna who would show me how it was done.   Enna didn’t speak a word of English and I really don’t speak much Spanish, and then, to make matters worse I’m left handed! Trying and learn something backwards is hard enough, but with no verbal communication the odds were not in my favor.  I was nervous.

I wasn’t going to let anything stop me from learning to make a pizza, though, so I grabbed wad of dough and I started to work with it. I struggled with the sticky stuff, trying to turn it into a firm, round elastic ball.  Enna made it look easy; hers were all shiny and perfectly round. She didn’t try to talk to me, so all I heard was giggling as I tried and failed miserably to mimic her actions.  Out of my first dozen tries I made two acceptable pies, not a very good record, I thought dismally.  But, never one to give up, I stuck with it and within twenty more minutes I was a tornado of flour, finally spitting out perfectly round pizzas with lightning speed. Now that was really fun and suddenly I was enjoying myself. I even got up my nerve and started teaching myself how to throw it into the air without tearing the dough. I learned how to use my hands to turn the dough into a spinning flying saucer that landed gently in my hands.  I’ve played sports all my life: baseball, basketball and football, so tossing things up and catching them was pretty easy for me to adapt to this new experience.  Soon I was putting poor Enna to shame and I’m pretty sure I remember her looking at me with approval and maybe even a little admiration.  Anyway, the giggling stopped.

Next I was taught the art of topping a pizza, how to place the sauce evenly, whether to add ingredients before or after the cheeses, and how much cheese is too much cheese. Placing pepperoni evenly and scattering sausage bits over it was lots of fun, adding slices of pineapple and ham to look appetizing was a challenge at first.  Pizzas with “the works” were the easiest—so little sauce and cheese peeked through that it didn’t require much arranging.  But I enjoyed scattering the toppings on—it was really fun to see the finished pie when it came out bubbling and smelling wonderful. I was hooked.

 After spending the rest of the afternoon making countless pizzas my boss called me over to tell me he “thought I had a gift for this kind of thing.” I was probably just as surprised as he was at my new found talent.  When I had first starting watching Enna I never thought I’d be good at it.   

Within a year I was assistant manager of the store, and second in command. I was in charge of ordering all the product of the store, closing the store at night, and pretty much doing anything the store needed while my manager wasn’t there. I was also starting to making friends in the neighborhood, that would frequent our little pizza place. I had worked few jobs in the past, as a plumber, as a grocery clerk, but this was different.

Cooking wasn’t only something I could do and was good it, it was also fun and rewarding. I really got a lot of pleasure out of the whole process.  Unlike the jobs I’d had previously, I not only felt good about doing a hard day’s work, but I felt good that I was making a product people actually enjoyed. There was something satisfying about knowing that my work was bringing pleasure to people, that they were enjoying something I’d made with my own two hands.   I know it was only pizza but it opened up a whole new world for me. The culinary world.

When my friends raved about this simple looking bowl of cloudy broth with a mishmash of foreign looking ingredients floating in it, I couldn’t help but look at them sideways. I tried not to give in to the peer pressure, but the more I saw of this bowl full of interesting things and the reaction of friends who received it, my curiosity got the better of me. I decided to take the plunge and see what their bliss was all about. I asked my friends to take me on a visit to explore the wonderful world of Pho.

Pho, I learned, is a Vietnamese clear beef broth soup that includes fine, white rice noodles with other ingredients added by request. It can also be made with chicken and “chicken parts.” These can be spices like basil or slices of lime, and things like peppers or bean sprouts.  So far so good. 

When I saw the varieties of Pho on the menu my eyes were drawn to the favorite offering of beef tendon, but my stomach was not in the same adventurous mood as my eyes, so I played it safe and chose the more simplistic “rare beef.”  

While the server arranged the bowl of rare steak Pho and the goodies that accompany it, the aroma was reminiscent of a chicken noodle soup my mom would make when I was sick. “What do I do next?” I cautiously asked my friends.  They were eager to help and before I knew it we were tossing in crisp white bean sprouts, freshly chopped herbs—leafy basil and some other things I didn’t recognize, and then some sauces.  I couldn’t help feeling like a warlock over his cauldron whispering incantations, and ended up trying my hardest not to laugh maniacally. We had certainly concocted quite a hearty and aromatic brew by the time we were done. 

Such an unassuming dish, and yet it packs with it a robust flavor with a soothing quality. After inhaling all the goodies, and as much broth as my viscera would allow, I felt rejuvenated. Pho isn’t just a bowl of soup as I had originally imagined, but rather an experience of which I encourage anyone and everyone to try. For me it combined the familiar taste of my mother’s love and care with exciting new flavors.  What can be better than that?