The steaming bowl’s aroma rises before me. Heady notes of roasted beef intermingle with more subtle spices—ginger and star anise. A pile of chopped, bright red raw meat floats atop the redolent broth. The cleavers clack on the kitchen’s cutting boards. The cooks at Pho Ha Noi cut fresh strips of meat for every bowl of soup they serve. And brother, do they serve a lot of soup.

Tucked away in a crowded shopping center in San Jose’s Little Saigon, almost everything at Pho Ha Noi is made in house and usually cooked to order. They even go to the trouble of making their own sriracha.

The menu can be deceptive, most items are given a two- or three-word description. What reads as “grilled pork with vermicelli, lettuce” ($11.75) is actually two large, grilled and very juicy pork meatballs. They arrive bathing in a sweet-savory broth, studded with spicy cubes of pickled carrot and daikon.

I am always excited when I see crab on a menu, and the waiter assured me that they use real Dungeness crab. The crab, shrimp and pork rolls with vermicelli ($13.25) are perhaps the crispiest rolls I have ever eaten. Pho Ha Noi uses a special rice wrapper that puffs up like chicharrones as it fries. Large chunks of fresh crab meat, slivers of pungent black mushrooms and a savory blend of pork and shrimp comprise the delicious filling. Like so many items on the menu, piles of lettuce, fresh herbs and chilled noodles serve as the garnish. A cup of nuoc cham, the ubiquitous dip made of fish sauce, sugar, chilies and lime juice, sits off to the side.

This seemingly simple sauce, found in many Vietnamese restaurants, can be a total throw-away; it’s often too sweet, too fishy, or just bland and acidic. Pho Ha Noi’s version strikes a delicate balance and pairs perfectly with the crab rolls. It is sharp, pungent and green from the lime and fish sauce, with a slow-building heat that is tamed by the sugar, so that it never becomes overbearing. Paired with any variety of the herbs, it serves as a palate cleanser, which is ideal for those who enjoy sampling many items in a single meal.

The banana blossom salad vinaigrette with house-made dressing ($13.75) arrives on a large white platter. There is a pile of steamed pulled chicken artfully arranged in the center, along with fresh herbs, shaved banana blossom and heaps of crispy fried shallots. The banana blossom has the texture of fresh shaved cabbage and the mild flavor of raw artichoke. Along with the addictive fried shallots, it acts as a crispy counterpoint to the soft, juicy chicken.

But let’s not lose sight of why we came here. As much as I loved the salad and the rolls, the real reason a person comes to this restaurant is the pho. And it does not disappoint. I ordered the #17 Beef Rib Noodle Soup (large size only $11.25). I was expecting and received a large bowl of steaming pho. What I was not expecting was to get a steaming Flintstones-size beef rib served on a side plate. The broth has a deep and satisfying flavor, dominated by the savory beef, but haunted by a distinct umami that lingers on the back of the palate.

I had heard whispers about the size of the pot used for “master” stock. Feeling bold from a few ice cold Heinekens (only $3.95!), I asked if I could see the kitchen and was obliged. I soon found myself in the back to see this “pot,” if one could rightfully call it that. Taking up the majority of the prep kitchen, it’s more like a cauldron—roughly the size of a jacuzzi.

While I stared, mesmerized by the churning, bubbling vat, I realized that bones aren’t the only thing Pho Ha Noi uses to flavor its broth. They also throw whole briskets and racks of beef ribs into the boil. These treats not only serve to flavor the soup but also act as secondary garnishes. There are no shortcuts here.

Pho Ha Noi
969 Story Road, San Jose