I didn’t see a chopstick until I was 12. I knew about “Chinese food;” you know… eggrolls, uhhh soy sauce? But Asian food was not really a “thing” in the middle of the weird Central Valley Unless you visited the big city. That’s right, Fresno probably had some Asian food but I wouldn’t have known. The sparkly lights of that shiny Valley metropolis lay just outside my hayseed grasp. Okay? And THIS is why I pronounce that Vietnamese soup so popular with the young folk FO. Cuz’ I don’t know no better.
Like when someone assumes cotton grows on sheep, which was a thing someone actually thought, I read the word PHO on a restaurant sign and pronounced it accordingly. My “friends” from Seattle did that thing with their face… the thing I do when someone doesn’t know a citrus tree from a stone fruit. Or like someone just said the N word. “Uuuuuhhhhh, I know you’re from nowhere and have never ridden public transportation in your life, buuuuuut… It’s pronounced FUH,” they’d say.
Either way you say it, like an asshole or like a different kind of asshole, that shit is tasty. And the place it tastes the best around here is Pho Hoang. In Arcata, at least. The building used to be (how do I put this without offending?) super freakin’ crappy. It has been totally refurbished into a place you would now consider stepping inside. The staff is friendly and the food comes out with a lightning quickness that says they are used to customers with a 20-minute lunch break.
I would advise the BBQ beef plate. It comes with all sorts of junk you also want to eat and it’s around eight buckles. I’m going to start using buckles as currency. For Pho, mostly.
This refurbed Vietnamese black hole of delish deserves 9 out of 10 bottles of Sriracha.