"As the yard sales get old and stale at the end of the day, I cast about looking for something amazing, something to satisfy my soul and reward myself after a day wandering the streets like a lost knight seeking the grail. I drag my tired butt into Pho Saigon and order the spicy beef soup and because it's there and and I can never resist Bao, I get a BBQ Pork Steamed bun. I don't know, but this Bao does not sing to me. It seems exactly like the ones I get in the frozen section over at the asian market. It tastes like microwave... I could be mistaken, but I love Bao like a crow loves a shiny button and this is not a shiny button. The sprouts do not look fresh, this is one of the cardinal sins. The fixin's for a broth have got to be fresh, that a restaurant would serve old fxin's takes frugality dangerously into the realm of insult. Do they think we will not notice? And then we get to the broth itself. I've had spicy broth all over town and this bowl did not measure up. There was no spice, no depth or profound mystery of culture and adventure. It was just, bland. Maybe other dishes are better, but if I can't dip my proverbial toe into what should be the signature dish of a place with Pho in the name, then I'm not going to out of my way to visit again. Staff was pleasant enough, I always feel bad when I visit somewhere and find the food disappointing. At least I found some fun stuff at the yard sales and the fact that are two Indian grocery stores directly across from each other in the parking lot (I'll bet there is a story there). Rescued the experience. A little. Where is the passion? The love of cooking? The pride of craft? It feels like the Vietnamese version of the guy in the diner slinging hash like a robot. When was the last time they checked out the competition? Tried something new? Got excited about coming into work. I know there are paces that do these things, their food reflects that."
