The Word of 'Na: The Sign Says It All?

You’ve seen the BBC series—two desperate, ageing women milk their martinis and memories for whatever youthful energies they can sap. They, like their clothes, are loud, ostentatious, and seemingly influenced by alcohol. But no matter how others sneer, and no matter how reality reveals their misshapen old bodies/faces in the mirror, to each other they are “absolutely fabulous.”

So it goes with the new digs: Absolutely PHObulous. I must admit I sneered. The sign read like an ABC stencil in red, blue, and yellow. And of course, the wordplay was corny. I looked at this sign, and this sign said to me: American-Vietnamese fusion, a McDonald’s of Pho. I suspected the name worthy of sarcasm as was the intention for the BBC “AbFab."

Nevertheless, a friend and I tried this kitchen out. Beyond the colorful marquee, the interior shot was more traditional with black furniture and deep red walls. It’s a narrow room for intimate parties of two or four, a casual date, or a quick bite with friends. And, unlike the Absolutely Fabulous women of the BBC, my friend and I could speak quietly amongst ourselves without neighboring tables overhearing. The scene here was calm. The music wasn’t set to hip hop or oldies. They weren’t even playing authentic instrumentals. We provided the soundtrack with our conversation, (though clangs from the kitchen occasionally mixed in too). Even the waiters were soft spoken. First they were there. Then they’d disappear. They said little more than what was necessary to get food to the table.

Now again, I’ll admit I smirked at the menu and the flagrant display of número dos: Thai chicken satay. Still, it’s my favorite, so I tried it out. Baked in a rich marinade, the chicken was tender and cut away from the skewer as if I were spooning through crème brulée. Earthy flavors of cumin and ginger brightened on my tongue, and a sweet dip of peanut sauce sealed my approval. It may have been Thai, but I’d leave the Pho to be authentic Vietnamese.

After our starters (My friend’s spring rolls were fresh and to her liking. I found them bland.), two steaming bowls of hot broth arrived before us. The beef was served rare on the side as is Vietnamese tradition. The broth cooked the slender cuts of meat before it cooled and we could eat. From a separate plate we scooped up fresh Vietnamese mint, chiles, and bean sprouts to drop in the mixture, until finally, the soup was ready. In truth, the broth tasted a bit salty. (But every review with a grain of salt, right? I mean, if we’re at liberty here to abuse word play...) Still, fresh lime, onion, cilantro, and a dash of (Thai) spice from the condiment tray, combined to flavor a decent broth. The once raw meat, now cooked, was the best of the three cuts of beef included in the dish. The next, as brisket goes, was a bit fatty. But the third and final beef selection was completely inedible. I could not chew through the beef meat ball. Needless to say, chicken is always a safe choice. Tried and true here, the chicken pho was just that: safe, tasty but ordinary. For both chicken and beef phos, the glass noodles were the first I’ve enjoyed of any asian cuisine. They’re served al dente, so enjoy them while they’re fresh. (You won’t be able to finish this dish, and the doggy bag is not worth adding Styrofoam containers to landfills.)

In short, we have here an exaggeration of a touch-and-go truth. The satay was fabulous but unauthentic, the spring rolls fresh but bland. The pho tasted savory and satisfactory if we disregard gristle and salt. The setting was perfect but I never would have known to look in beneath the flamboyant marquee. Absolutely Fabulous was successful because we acknowledged the sarcasm. We loved those two women for all their flaws because they were funny. I don’t know if folks will find gristle funny… It’s worth a try?