It was a sad day when I tucked into my last bowl of the namesake dish from Beef Noodle Soup Restaurant. But, in its place Pho Thanh Cong has sprung up and offers their version of satisfying beef noodle soup. Gone is the dark 80s décor, the dining room now bright and airy with comfortable hug-your-bum chairs.

You’ll find a lot of filling and little wrapper in their deep-fried spring rolls ($6 for two). With the delicate skin and ample filling, the spring rolls have a light juicy quality that makes you want to have a second. Maybe I can’t share these anymore.

Hulking beef bones are now the rage at Vietnamese restaurants. Pho Thanh Cong’s beef rib pho ($22) arrives with two decently sized bones as well as a handful of shaved beef. There’s a lot of toppings so you won’t be left with a bowl filled with noodles.

And while the beef ribs don’t have a lot of flavours on its own, the restaurant offers a lot of condiments including three types of hot sauce and garlic slivers. After creating a sauce of hoisin, garlic chili, and garlic slivers and slathering it onto the ribs, they were delicious.

The rare beef and brisket rice noodle soup ($17 for medium) also has a hefty portion of protein. Although the rare beef was very lean so some diners may find it tough. Still, the broth was full of flavour and perfectly seasoned, so much so that I could enjoy the pho without any condiments. Sometimes it’s nice to just savour the beef broth and herbs sprinkled throughout.

Weekday lunches are never busy at the restaurant, so service was attentive and quick. Customers are given a choice of having the bean sprouts raw or boiled and if the first plate isn’t enough, they note to just ask for more.

Pho Thanh Cong’s soon becoming one of my favourite places for inexpensive pho. And to save even more, bring cash with you for a 10% discount. Bone-in appetit. 

I know this sounds counter intuitive, but when a restaurant is plastered all over social media it makes me want to try it less. Too much promotion leads me to think the hype is paid for and I start doubting the restaurant’s ability to attract diners for their flavours.

Dear Saigon’s most photographed item is the Dear Saigon pho ($22.99). The restaurant knows how to draw in the camera: a large tower displaying the dishes’ ingredients, a sizzling stone bowl, and a hulking beef bone that’s protrudes in its full glory. I had my doubts on ordering it, but then felt obligated to see if it really is worth the extra six dollars.

Firstly, the tower: they need to make it more structurally sound. To get the individual layers out, you’ll need to hold onto the wobbly light-as-air tower or otherwise risk having it topple over. Ultimately, it’s a bit kitschy with the only benefits being it takes up less table space and does allow diners to gradually add the raw beef slices to control its doneness.

In terms of the stone bowl, while it arrives rapidly boiling, this starts to lose steam in under 30 seconds. Add in the noodles and half of the bean sprouts and the soup sits as still as a pond on a non-windy day. In fact, I was nervous whether it’d still be hot enough to cook the beef slices, so I jammed them all in at the start. Luckily, the remaining warmth was enough to gradually cook them through, and the beef did stay tender longer, which was a nice touch.

Moreover, the broth stayed hot until the end. Dear Saigon’s soup was just salty enough and was hearty but still fresh. While the noodles started off as a sticky clump, they quickly loosened in the soup and resisted getting soggy. Point goes to the stone bowl.

Lastly, the beef bone. Perhaps the best distinguishing feature as it’s an ingredient not offered with the other pho. For me, this alone was worth the additional $6. Since it arrives in the soup without any sauce, I worried it’d be tasteless. For me, it was flavourful enough solo, but if you need tje extra oomph there’s hoisin and hot sauce available. Meaty and tender, I ended up sharing the beef bone and was still stuffed. If you’re hungry, order the Dear Saigon pho.

If the beef rib doesn’t do it for you, the house special pho ($18.99) was satisfying. While not overly exciting, it contains the requisite favourites – rare beef, brisket, tendon, tripe, and beef balls – with plenty of noodles, herbs, and bean sprouts. The broth wasn’t as beefy but still had a comforting quality. I sense some diners may find it bland, but I found it satisfying and liked that it wasn’t oily.

Dear Saigon’s appetizers were also decent. The chicken wings ($13.50) are covered in a honey glaze that’s best eaten hot while it’s still runny. Very crispy with just a touch of heat and savouriness, it reminds me of a milder honey garlic deep-fried wing.

Wash your hands as the deep-fried spring rolls ($8.99) are extremely difficult to pick-up with chopsticks – even my mom was stumped. Utensil challenge aside, they’re uber crispy, and I enjoyed the combination of vegetables, beans, taro, and little bits of shrimp.  

Despite holding off on trying Dear Saigon because I felt it was over hyped, I’m glad I eventually gave in. Their menu is extensive including a variety of appetizers and even Thai dishes for those not in the mood for pho. But who goes to Dear Saigon for pad Thai? Give me a bowl of noodles with a massive bone any day. 

If you had to eat one type of dish for the rest of your life, what would it be? Popular choices tend to be pizza, pasta, or tacos. For me, it’s a bowl of soupy noodles. And if I had to stick to one type, then pho would likely feed me to eternity.

Yet, pho wasn’t what I was craving when visiting Bong Lau Vietnamese Restaurant. Instead, it was their famous bún riêu ($13.95) that drew me in. Traditionally, it’s a fragrant seafood, pork, and tomato soup. Bong Lau’s recipe skips the meat and uses tomato, crab, and egg drops (?), which when soaked in broth provides a crumbly texture that almost seems like it could be minced meat.

For a dish that looks so vibrant, the taste was surprisingly timid. There wasn’t that salty umami hit of shrimp paste that I expected. In fact, it wasn’t very salty at all. The most prominent flavours were the tomato, basil, and shallots topping the dish.

Perhaps if the bún riêu was hotter, it’d be more enjoyable. As it stood, the lukewarm texture combined with lacklustre soup and the frozen tasting blue crab really didn’t seem rave worthy.

In retrospect, selection of “light bites” would be more impressive. The bahn dap ($11.95), a steamed rice roll stuffed with a choice of lemongrass pork, beef, chicken, or Vietnamese meat balls, makes for a refreshing but hearty meal. Unlike a salad roll, which uses a rehydrated rice paper wrapper, the steamed roll was thicker and softer, while still having an elasticity that allowed it to be held and dipped.

We opted for the recommended lemongrass pork, which was well seasoned and thinly sliced so the meat layer adds a saltiness throughout the roll. Incorporating tender lettuce leaves, hits of herbs, and bits of crunchy peanuts, the bahn dap had a host of textures and flavours that kept me satisfied.

Bong Lau’s extensive menu does offer a selection of soup-based noodles rarely found elsewhere. Consequently, if I had to subsist on soupy noodles forever, you’d find me at Bong Lau’s all the time. 

Maybe I’ve been conditioned to have low expectations for good service while dining at a pho place. Having mostly visited holes-in-the-wall where getting your order in a timely manner and having someone bring the bill to the table to save you a trip to the cashier is five-star service, I was pleasantly surprised when I was greeted warmly when entering, asked whether I’d like our bean sprouts boiled or raw, and the chopsticks and spoons weren’t already on the table but brought over in a mug of boiling water.  Pho Quinn claims top spot, in terms of service, for a pho restaurant in my chart.

Their positive attributes don’t stop at the hospitality, it extends to the food as well. The pho broth is flavourful and not greasy; the type that you can have a lot of and keeping drinking after the noodles are gone. I’d recommend they cook their noodles a little less since they will continue expanding in the soup, but I’m also a lover of pasta al dante so may not be the typical palette. There was a decent portion of protein in their raw beef, brisket, and tendon pho ($10 for a small) with massive chunks of tendon that were chewy and tender.

Being my first experience with the bún riêu vermicelli soup ($11.50), I’m torn on whether it’s something I’d order again. Maybe if I’m in the mood for a richer bowl of noodles, given its broth is saltier with the shrimp paste flavours shining through. The tofu puffs are a great edition as it helps soak in the soup and their chewiness goes nicely with the tender Vietnamese meatballs - finely minced pork paste that is squeezed into clumps, which break apart easily with each bite.

Aside from that, there’s one shrimp (for the entire bowl of noodles) and pieces of tomato that must have been added raw as it cools down the soup. Aside from the not-hot-enough temperature, I would have liked the soup to be spicy as well; luckily, there’s chili sauce at the table. Lastly, the bún riêu arrives with lai fun noodles, which are silkier than the pho’s rice noodles and goes nicely with the stronger both.

We skipped the spring rolls and tried the deep-fried shrimp bean curd ($7.50) instead. Sandwiched between the flaky bean curd sheets is shrimp paste that adds a chewy meatiness against the light crispy layers.  

With COVID still underway, Pho Quinn’s dining room is ideally set up with tables in individual booths and added plexi-glass at the top to create even greater separation. It made for a comfortable dining experience. The great service continued throughout the meal: they cleared away unneeded plates as we finished dishes, they were attentive with our bill, and even came around to ask how we were enjoying the food. This visit to Pho Quinn may have spoiled me - from now on I’m going to have much greater expectations from others going forward. 

Trust me, your pho will taste a whole lot better if you take the time to re-heat the broth in a pot and add the noodles to the boiling broth to loosen everything before eating.

I learned this the hard way when getting Angus Pho House delivered to my place. Finding everything felt hot, I merely took the broth and added it to the Angus rare beef rice noodle soup ($9.95 for small) and tucked in. The noodles stuck together in a clump and the broth went from hot to lukewarm in no time. This is not how pho should be enjoyed.

A nuke in the microwave improved things a bit, yet it still wasn’t the same. Since we received such a large portion of noodles (with the small being so big, how can anyone get through a large?), I had enough for another meal the next day. After reheating the soup in a pot and adding the noodles (microwaved first) for a quick swirl, everything was so much more enjoyable.

Strangely, Angus Pho puts the rare beef into the hot broth instead of laying it onto the noodles when delivering. What arrives are very well-done pieces of lean meat. In the future, an order of plain pho noodles with a grilled protein seems like a better choice. If you really want shaved beef, I suggest opting for a brisket instead, which has a bit of fat to keep it moist.

The soup to noodle ratio is also off, there seems to be more noodles than when you dine in but only 70% of the broth so you can’t really drink big spoonful’s of the hearty savoury bone broth. Indeed, by the next day, there was only about a cup of soup left, I had to dilute it and add salt to stretch enough for another meal. Not a drop was wasted.

Surprisingly, the Vietnamese style spring rolls ($6.95) didn’t suffer through the delivery process. They were crispy and delicious, just a tad cooler than the scalding hot rolls you’d find at the restaurant. Angus’ moist fluffy filling of yellow beans and pork is so delicious. Unless you’re vegetarian or going gluten-free, these are a must add-on.

While Angus Pho provides a sizeable bag of bean sprouts and Thai basil, my body was craving vegetables so an order of Chinese greens with oyster sauce ($6.95) was necessary. The menu describes these as being stir-fried but it’s actually plain boiled gai lan. Luckily, we also ordered stir-fried Chinese greens with garlic sauce ($11.95) and since these were fairly salty and saucy, we could add the plain gai lan into the dish to calm everything down.