To Pho Asian Cuisine

951 Country Club Road, Lake Charles

By Bill Coyne

Every restaurant has a ton of moving parts between the food, equipment and the people behind it all. It’s choreographed effort.

In most of my restaurant experiences, I’m only able to interact with a small percentage of the people who make it all happen. Usually, it’s the server, the one person directly involved in facilitating the dining experience.

I was excited to hear the news of a new Vietnamese restaurant opening in Lake Charles for so many reasons. The ability to support diversity in a city’s food culture is vital to its growth. Expanding past the norm signals acceptance and opportunity. Our city’s palate is expanding.

To Pho Asian Cuisine is situated in a new, but small strip located at the corner of Lake Street and Country Club Road– south of town. When I walk through the door, I find the order counter in front of me with menus displayed on digital boards overhead. To the left,  there’s a small –but comfortable and quaint– dining room. The design and decor are fitting for the cuisine as the restaurants has tables that seat 20 in total. I’m greeted by a kind man with a beaming smile, eager to take my order. I’m dining solo today.

In my mind, I know this is going to take more than one visit to form an accurate and fair opinion. I limp in with a couple of my personal favorites. For an appetizer, an order of spring rolls. It’s fair to judge a restaurant’s ability to make a prominent dish so for the main dish I must try the pho. Just like I would order a pepperoni and mushroom pizza in a pizza pub.  With a quick swipe of my card, I take a seat with a view of everything from my vantage point.

A gentlemen appears from the kitchen, the curtain divider swaying back into its resting form. With a smile and nod he sets down the platter of food in his hands before he scurries off.  The simmering bone broth slows its ebb and flow to a rest. I note an aroma of fresh scallions perched atop the thinly sliced ribbons of rare steak cooking as it basks in umami. Diners have an opportunity to tailor their pho by adding sprouts, rice noodles, cilantro, jalapeño or lime to their liking.  In my opinion omitting any of these ingredients is a disservice to the dish and you’re robbing yourself of its full flavor potential.

I dip the spring roll in peanut sauce and take bites in between wiping the drops of pho dripping down my chin. I’m in heaven. I believe the gentleman, the owner of To Pho, could sense my excitement as he gleans the facial expressions of those in the dining room. After I finish my meal, I introduce myself and invite him to come over and chat. Everyone has a story, and I want to know his.

His name is Tu Nguyen and he was born and raised in North Vietnam. Nguyen helped his mother cook for the family in their modest village back home before coming to the United States in 2011 to study business at McNeese. His true passion has always been to present his country’s food and culture to the public. “Houston has a large Asian and Vietnamese community. You can find this kind of food and culture everywhere in Houston. I wanted to bring something here for Lake Charles,” says Nguyen.

Over the next five years of study, Nguyen would intern at various L’Auberge restaurants. He honed his knife skills with monotonous kitchen prep and chopping, trimmed 800 pounds of chicken each week and successfully learned the ins and outs.

Finding a location, securing the lease and creating the menu was easy compared to procuring the necessary ingredients, especially in our area. Nguyen makes a trip twice a week to hand pick the ingredients he needs to facilitate authenticity: vegetables, spices and delicate small grain rice.

“Nearly 100 percent of everything I serve is made here. From the bone broth that’s rendered for 24 hours and strained to make the best pho, to the fish sauce. I do everything and it’s fresh,” he says.

As Nguyen and I build rapport, he’s still taking care of his customers. He darts off to answer the phone, take counter orders and deliver food to tables. He returns with a pair of Vietnamese egg rolls–a blend of pork, vegetables and mushroom tightly wrapped in thin rice paper, quickly fried and plated with romaine leaf, a sprig of cilantro and nuoc mam, a semi-sweet yet salty sauce.

Nguyen teaches me something. He insist I try one eggroll. “Eat it plain. Maybe give it a dip into the sauce and make a mental note. The next one, do as we do,” he says with a smile. The way they do? Wrap the lettuce and cilantro around the egg roll and give it a dip. The flavor is something you’ve never experienced in an egg roll. Impressive to say the least.

In a subsequent visit, Nguyen highly suggests I try one of his personal favorites, cóm tãm, which is a staple dish in his community. This “broken rice” dish, coupled with an iced Vietnamese coffee hits all the food groups. A thin pork chop marinates in a teriyaki sauce before being splayed out over an open fire. The sugars break down into a slight char on the fringes of the meat deepening the flavor, finished with a trio of seasoned grilled shrimp.  The dome of delicate small grain rice is topped with a fried egg cooked over easy.

Traditionally, you’re presented with both a fork and a spoon. The concept is to spread a little bit of fish sauce over the egg and rice and break it down with each bite you take. The pork chop is meant to be picked by hand to get every little bit off the bone. The cóm tãm is a light but flavorful dish and pretty fun to enjoy.

Before I leave, I ask him what happened to the bành mí. It’s a beautifully-flavored Vietnamese sandwich that was once on the menu. “I can’t serve something that isn’t right,” he says. “I can’t get the bread I need to make this authentic, and until I do, I won’t put it out there.”

It’s unfortunate, but understandable. I can’t wait until it’s back. Until then, I’m looking ahead. Next up? The spicy Bo Bun Hue I’ve been hearing so much about.