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2002-12-30 - 8:20 p.m.

Noodelicious

Until I came to Tex-Mex, taco-munching Austin, I had never tried Vietnamese food. In my last hometown of Washington, D.C., we had one Vietnamese restaurant in the neighborhood called Pho 57, but it never intrigued me because I had no idea what the hell pho was, and what the 57 was for. Then some people took me to Fortune 75 on Lamar (or is it Burnet?) last October, and for the first time I experienced the delightful rice vermicelli and tofu chunk combination that we call vegetarian pho (to-pho for short). It was a matter of time before I switched to bun, its drier, broth-free version. Something about that orange fish sauce with the fragile carrot slivers floating peacefully on top makes bun tangier, and in my humble opinion, better, than pho. You put that sauce on those noodles and fried tofu chunks and you want to keep eating until your stomach can't take it anymore.

In the past year I have had the fortune to visit not only Fortune 75 but many other pho/bun parlors in Austin, which you could say makes me a little bit of a connoisseuse (though any authentic Vietnamese person has the right to disagree). Often during "bun runs" I am accompanied by friends who share the same love for rice noodles and their standard accompaniments: lettuce, carrots, peanuts, and sauces hoisin or hot. One of my frequent noodle-eating partners is Doug. We have dined on our favorite noodle dish at Mekong River, on Austin's lively 6th Street; at Kim Phung, which is farther north; and at 888 to the south, where we once waited 30 minutes for our noodles while wearing towels wet from swimming and nearly froze from the air conditioning. (More on 888's service below.) Often when I am eating bun solo Doug coincidentally calls me mid-noodle and I talk to him via cell phone. It is like he knows, he sees, the big bowl on the table before me, and can smell the lemongrass from miles away.

Recently Doug and I got in his new car (freshly battered after a collision with a deer) and drove north to get Kim Phungky. He ordered his standard favorite, the egg roll bun bowl, and I, being a little daring, went with a vegetable/tofu surprise that was neither pho nor bun. Unfortunately, the surprise tasted like sauce of grilled mice over carrots and yellow noodles, which disturbed my palette as well as my conscience. To send it back would have meant wasting food; to eat it would have meant trying to get down a plate of evil after a day spent vomiting Tofutti Cuties and water. (sorry for the graphic detail but hey, we all get sick sometimes ��ed.). Fortunately, Doug liked my dish all right, and even though his contained pork pieces (trapped inside the egg rolls, which slowly came apart as they sogged in the bowl) I ate his tasty rice noodles and he ate my gross mice noodles. During our meal he told me about his 78-year-old grandmother who reads right-wing 'zines published in Philadelphia and affectionately calls him "shitbag," and how she has a friend who "just knows" that Doug will be a famous musician one day. "She just knows!"

Shortly before we finished, the famous movie guru guy Harry Knowles walked into the restaurant with a posse of sideburned stars-in-waiting and sat at a grand round table near the front window. We contemplated saying something to him but what was there to say but "Hey Harry, don't order #73! It tastes like helter skelter!" Being a critic, he'd probably want the decision left up to himself.

Though many people rate Kim Phung as their favorite pho place in Austin, I do not agree. Here's my ratings of local pho sto's:

1. 888. Oltorf. The waitresses sometimes act as though you not only don't exist, but that you shouldn't exist. Sometimes they don't give you what you ordered due to "bad translation," and when this happens, they don't always fix the problem. And that can be troublesome if you wanted tofu chunks but got pork instead -- you just stand there thinking, "but this isn't fair," and the waitress, lovely and petite and smiling though she is, looks at you and hands you another bowl of fish sauce before walking to the kitchen, where she hides. Major disaster rarely happens, however. To minimize your chances of receiving a mystery dish, just remember: All the servers need is a menu number. Don't get picky. If you don't want greasy tofu, just order the damned fried tofu and squeeze out the grease with napkins. Yes, you'll look like a freak, but you won't be the first. Large-screen TVs, plastic fish floating in tubes, and 'Namified Eighties music round out the atmosphere.

2. Mekong River, 6th St. Architecturally the classiest and most attractive of the local pho sto's surveyed. The charcoal shrimp cannot be beat, especially for a meager $5.25. But if you don't like bean sprouts, make sure to tell them, or else you'll end up with a ton. Bean sprouts are bitter and not for everyone. Crinkled carrot pieces give your bun bowl a flourish. Word to the weight-watching: Do not get the chicken unless you are on some sort of weird skin and grisle diet. If you think squeezing out the grease from tofu is a drag, just try picking through a pile of chicken fat in search of meat particles. It ain't fun.

3. Pho Kung Ly. A strong and sturdy bowl done right. If the atmosphere was a little better, it might bump Mekong down a slot.

4. Kim Phung. The establishment's #1 comes in at #4 on this chart. Yes, it is cheap. Yes, the bowls of bun are meaty-large. But those who enjoy a little greenery with their vermicelli will promptly be disappointed when their bowl arrives sans vegetables. Order the $4.25 "fried tofu and vermicelli" and that's exactly what you get. Not even a little bit of lemongrass? Come on, we need some carrots � scurvy is for real. All in all, the bowls get better as you dig in, but at first sight it's a disappointment: Big brown chunks sizzling atop a white, starchy tangle of rice noodles, with nothing to say "Vitamin C" anywhere. And of course, the mice noodles caused Kim Phung to lose a couple points; maybe another bowl of somethingorother will help the place redeem itself and reach, say, #3.

4. Fortune 75. Rumor says this place is not the cleanest. Then again, who is? It's been quite a while since I've eaten here (okay, so hygiene matters to me, too), but if memory serves me right, the pho's all right.

5. Pho Cuisine. The only pho place on the Drag has given nightmares to the gastrointestinal systems of several friends. The lettuce is often wilted, the veggies greasy, and the service friendly but often limited in their English to whatever's on the menu; if you want steamed tofu instead of fried, you better get ready for fried tofu. Even though this place is the closest phostablishment to my house, I have not been there for several months out of fear. It's somewhat humorous that a sign hanging in the window boasts about how "light and healthy" the food is, to attract the weight conscious I suppose. They should replace that sign with this one: "Our food will hit you like a laxative!"

Phocabulary

If you like weird/silly phrases and puns, you'll like this part. If you don't like puns, you probably don't like my writing style at all, and perhaps should find a more intellectual blog to visit. Meantime:
Pho-nomenal
Pho real?
Pho-nicular
Phontastic
"I'd like a Pho-ty of Old English fish sauce, please"
"I can't affphord this bowl of noodles"
High Pho-delity
Del the Funky Pho-mo Sapien
Pho-dy duddy

Things are going to get a lot worse before they get worse. � Lily Tomlin

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