Pho is a soup with origins in early 20th century Vietnam, featuring thin rice noodles (vermicelli), vegetables, and thinly-sliced, charbroiled meats. Many non-Vietnamese mispronounce this dish as “foh,” but the true pronunciation (akin to “phu-ah”) can be difficult for westerners. Let’s just go with “pho” and agree that it’s delicious.
Across the U.S., Vietnamese noodle shops have really taken off in recent years, with Reno no exception. Most include some Chinese and Japanese menu items, as does Asian Pho, an unassuming little spot located in the same building as a convenience store/gas station. A friend of mine has a rule: “I don’t eat food prepared inside or next to a gas station.” Normally I might agree, but this time she’s missing out. Asian Pho is a true hidden gem, albeit one hiding in plain sight at a busy intersection.
Like most noodle shops, the format here is fairly informal. Unless you’re ordering take-out, just grab a couple menus from the counter and seat yourself at one of the numbered tables. When finished, tell the cashier the table number and pay on the way out. Simple, straight-forward, efficient. The service was fast and friendly, even though we had a few “lost in translation” moments. I recommend ordering with the menu’s item numbers to avoid confusion.
For starters we ordered spring rolls ($4.95), and pot stickers ($4.95). I’m generally more fond of the former than my wife, while she prefers the latter. However, dipped in a decent peanut sauce, the balance of pork-shrimp-veggie flavors enveloped in moistened rice paper won her over. For me, I usually find pot stickers to be greasy, limp disappointments, but these were crisp, tasty, wonderfully-fried pork dumplings. They actually changed my mind about what this appetizer can be.
Although there are chicken and seafood variations on pho, its mainstay is beef (in a variety of combinations). I ordered a medium serving of my favorite, featuring rare steak, well-done flank, tendon and tripe ($6.50). Sadly, the kitchen was out of tendon—I’ll grant you, an acquired taste—but the other ingredients were so good I hardly noticed. The broth was full of flavor, a perfect balance of savory, subtle seasonings. Some diners add one or more table sauces—hoisin, hot chili paste, Sriracha, fish sauce—I left that perfect broth alone. I did employ the traditional side items—bean sprouts, sweet basil, chili pepper, lime—and cilantro, which is the first time I’ve seen this included on a pho side plate. Once prepped for munching, the soup didn’t stay in the bowl for long.
My wife’s favorite Asian soup is wor won ton ($6.95), which is more Hong Kong than Vietnam. Wor won ton roughly translates as, “won ton soup deluxe,” meaning it includes a bunch of veggies. Asian Pho’s version is quite good, with so many pork dumplings my wife felt the need to remove a few in order to stay on diet. I didn’t mind cleaning up the collateral damage, or sneaking a taste of perfectly-cooked shrimp and bok choy from her bowl.
On a return visit, I ordered another traditional favorite, flame-broiled pork and Imperial rolls served on a bed of cold vermicelli and lettuce, with vegetables, peanut garnish and a lightly sweet “special sauce” ($8.50). I’ve always enjoyed this dish, but Asian Pho’s rendition is among the best I’ve had. The Imperial egg rolls were quite good, cut into chunks you eat with the rest of the dish. Some noodle shops seriously overcook the pork, but the meat topping my dish was tender and crazy tasty. After two excellent meals at this gas station oasis, I think I’ll become a regular. Fill ’er up!