Readers’ pick: Pho Viet USA’s pho tai nam
As chilly winds linger over the District in early spring, a quaint Vietnamese restaurant on U Street is restoring warmth to the neighborhood — one bowl of pho at a time.
Among the U Street Corridor storefronts, Pho Viet USA has built a reputation for its rice-noodle dishes and deeply comforting broths, a spot outside the Foggy Bottom bubble that has been recommended to me by fellow GW students. Though the District has over 20 ramen and pho restaurants for customers in search of comforting bowls of broth and noodles, Pho Viet USA is a standout with its consistent flavors and dishes.
After a short trek on the Metro’s Green Line and a walk down the vibrant U Street Corridor — known across the District for its rich history, culture and Peruvian, Mediterranean and Ethiopian eateries — I arrived at the short and small restaurant on a Saturday evening.
Opening the door, I was met with vibrant decor, dark wood tables and black chairs that made it feel like I had discovered a true hole-in-the-wall gem. 2010s pop music played quietly on the speakers, and the server kindly led me straight to a table, since the restaurant was fairly empty.
Plastic green vines intertwined with light pink, red and yellow cherry blossom-like flowers and orange lanterns hung from the ceiling, and oversized menu displays lined the walls, offering a look at its wide-ranging food and drink options. Large front windows looked out onto the street just as the sun began to set, and although four patrons sat at the window table, I settled into a corner spot between closely arranged seating, which gave the space a more intimate feel.
I was tempted by the wide variety of drinks and appetizers, including their banh mi sandwiches and refreshing fruit drinks, though the chilly spring evening called me to order up a classic bowl of pho in beef broth with thinly sliced brisket ($15), known as pho tai nam.
When the server brought me my dish a short 10 minutes after ordering, I was immediately struck by its generous portion size, compared to a smaller cup of soup I’d get at a restaurant, like chicken noodle soup. Filled to the brim of the blue ceramic bowl, the pho carried a savory aroma that made my mouth water. The soup was warm but not too hot, allowing me to dig right in.
The broth was deeply flavorful, presumably the result of hours of slow simmering with aromatics like ginger, cloves and coriander. Thin slices of beef rested among the noodles, tender and easy to chew, while the green onions added additional flavoring and crunch that balanced each bite. Soft rice noodles soaked in the broth tied the dish together into a comforting and satisfying experience.
I chose to try the pho on its own, leaving out the typical additions, like hoisin sauce and sriracha, so I could fully appreciate the depth of the dish. Even without extra sauces or toppings, the dish was savory and balanced — each ingredient working together to offer layers of flavor that unfolded with each bite.
The pho was exactly what I needed on a cold spring day during midterm season, setting the bar high for the next time I return for a bowl.
