Pho Tam is an unheralded, highly affordable Vietnamese cafe on the Boise Bench.
The tile and stainless steel-paneled dining room is winter-sun-bright, spare and not built for a long, leisurely dining experience. On one wall is a partial menu with illustrative photos. On others, flat-screen TVs show whatever happens to be on — at high-volume. (Often a weekly serial crime drama.) The lone foreign oddities are some Vietnamese newspapers kept company by old American tabloids, and a mechanized, golden “welcoming” cat sitting on the front counter. The overall effect is something like a diner: familiar and accessible.
Much of the menu also nods to accessibility, including Japanese and Chinese dishes to appease broad tastes. My wife and I liked the Japanese kabobs ($1.75 apiece), skewers of pork, chicken, beef, charred vegetables and pineapple with a vaguely Asian barbecue sauce. There are egg rolls ($7.50, also just fine), and plenty of Chinese restaurant standards. The rice paper-wrapped fresh rolls ($6.50) come in several varieties, and we liked best those with still-warm grilled ribbons of beef.
More peculiar are the Banh Xeo ($4.50 for a small order, $8.50 for a large), described on the menu as Vietnamese pancakes. They are something more like a salty crepe, slicked with sesame oil, folded over bean sprouts, shrimp, fatty pork and scallions. A large order hangs over the edges of a huge plate, too much of one thing for one person, or, in our case, for two who wanted variety.
All else, though, is merely stage-setting for what is and should be the star: the pho itself. Pho Tam offers two versions of Vietnam’s signature beef noodle soup, served with traditional accompaniments. The Pho Ta Bo Vien ($5.99 for a small bowl, $7.99 for a large, which will generously serve two) is a richly nuanced beef broth with rice noodles, cilantro and onion with a few thin slices of mushroom-colored meatball and rare beef. On the side, for you to add as you like, are Thai basil, bean sprouts, lime, black bean sauce and chili paste. It is extraordinary winter food, warming to the core and as comforting as homemade chicken noodle soup. Suddenly, the diner surrounding makes so much sense. The food is not jaw-dropping or visionary. It isn’t meant to be. It is sincere.
I must include that my wife did not love the pho. She didn’t find enough flavor in the dish as a whole. To her, it didn’t seem unique enough to build a whole restaurant around the dish. But chefs I know are in love with the pho here. One called it “mother’s milk,” and when another discovered Pho Tam last spring, he ate there three times a week. They prefer the Pho Dac Biet, same as above, with the addition of tripe.
Where we all agree is that the deli sandwiches are delicious and an unbelievable value at $3.50 apiece. Recently, we tried a Banh Mi Trung Bo Nuong — thin, grilled beef, a pickled vegetable salad of daikon radish, carrots, jalapeno and cilantro, and a radiant, lemon-yellow cooked egg on light, crackling and soft French baguette, dashed with a smear of fresh, sweet tomato that worked like ketchup against the spiciness of the peppers. Like all banh mi sandwiches, meat is not the point of emphasis, but is used as a condiment, and it’s surprising how well this works when all other ingredients are so flavorful and in balance. I do not know what kind of eggs Pho Tam uses, but they are remarkably colorful and savory.
On a separate lunch visit, I found a huge portion of Com Chien Chau Bac Biet ($8.25) — essentially fried rice with shrimp and three kinds of pork and more of that electric yellow egg — good for what it was, if not a little run-of-the-mill.
Service is quick and, like the room, utilitarian. When we probed for details on sauces or ingredients, we didn’t get much. The sauce on the kabobs? “That’s special barbecue sauce.” The garnish on the banh mi? “That’s tomato.” Like Pho Tam, the servers let the food speak for itself.
Contact Alex Kiesig at scene@idahostatesman.com
