The various new twists on the house-made Vietnamese soup-flavored frankfurter comes at the expense of other foodstuffs. U Hall's pork belly doughnut, "sloppy cho" and curry chicken ramen brat, for instance, are no longer offered. “They were one-stop-shop kind of items, but they were fun for a little bit,” says Erik Bruner-Yang, chef-owner of Toki Underground, who regularly collaborates with U Hall co-owner Jesse Tittsworth on the music club's culinary offerings. “We want to be able to change the menu up often, keep it interesting.”

This time around, the pair have teamed up with 13th Street Meats, a one-man sausage making company run by Scott McIntosh, who also tends bar at The Big Hunt and Bread Soda. McIntosh makes all the sausages by hand out of his kitchen on 13th Street. His sausages are far from fancy charcuterie—just something “you can enjoy with a beer at the bar and not feel like you’re just eating some frozen crap,” McIntosh says.

Among the venue's new franks: the Blunted Pho Dog is a spicy half-smoke sausage, topped with five-spice Asian cole slaw, fresh basil, cilantro, lime, hoisin sauce and sriracha. The half-smoke is McIntosh’s own take on D.C.'s indigenous wienie. “The weird thing about half smokes is there’s no real agreed-upon recipe for it," he says. "So it’s, basically, you kind of have to take a half-smoke and deconstruct it. I tried a bunch of different ones and made a couple dozen test batches."

The Not Pho Real Dog, meanwhile, is made of grilled tofu, and the Pork’s Not for Me Dog is a smoked lemon basil chicken sausage, one of McIntosh’s most difficult recipes to perfect, made of half a dozen ingredients including lemon zest, lemon pulp, basil, and bell peppers.

In a few months, Bruner-Yang expects to switch up the U Hall menu once again. “Most nightclubs don’t do food or don’t do food very well, so we kind of want to show that we care,” he says.

Photo by Chris Svetlik

Photo courtesy of Froggy Bottom Pub

Photo by mahr/Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic license

Pho

"We're revamping the menu and it's one of the only items that will carry on," U Hall co-owner Jesse Tittsworth tells Young & Hungry.

The grilled beef or tofu link, bathed in homemade pho broth, served on a toasted bun and topped with Sriracha and bánh mì-style slaw, has been the music venue's top-selling food item since its debut last summer. (Read Y&H correspondent Scott Reitz's review of the popular bar bite here.)

A collaborative effort by Tittsworth and Toki Underground chef Erik Bruner-Yang, who continues to cater for the venue, the pho dog has also become a popular conversation piece. "People often ask about it when visiting from out of town," says Tittsworth. "Many beg our bouncers not to charge them cover when visiting late night to eat."

The bar-friendly handheld tribute to Vietnamese noodle soup was not originally intended to become the venue's signature dish, notes Tittsworth. "I think we were just having fun and trying to do something different." It just turned out that way.

"We were lucky enough to not be the only ones that thought it tasted good," he says. "It doesn't always turn out that way though—the mala drink didn't have the universal acclaim!"

Photo by Scott Reitz

Waterlogged: If you had plans to head down to Washington Harbour in Georgetown to enjoy a drink or meal within view of the Potomac River, be aware that it's currently underwater due to flooding. [DCist]

It's All OK! The Serendipity 3 ice cream parlor, which has been planned for the old Nathan's space at Wisconsin Avenue and M Street NW in Georgetown, "is still all set to go," despite rumors to the contrary. [G'town Metropolitan]

Deals: Want discounted tickets to Taste of Arlington in May? Click here. [ARLNow]

Sneak Peeks: The forthcoming Jack Rose on 18th Street NW has a 52-foot-long bar. (Hopefully, that's enough room for Fritz Hahn not to be annoyed by other bar patrons.) [DCist]

Photo by Flickr user joo0ey using an Attribution 2.0 Generic Creative Commons license

A friend of mine has been in the mood for pho. And the winter blast we're having makes for a perfect excuse to go seek out the traditional Vietnamese soup. I've been thinking of pho places accessible by public transit and within a 20-minute Metrorail ride of downtown D.C. I'm catching a movie tonight, and I'm pondering my options.

Pho 75, the pho-only, cafeteria-style restaurant on Wilson Boulevard between the Rosslyn and Court House stations, immediately comes to mind. Pho 75 is cash-only and features shared table seating, which really seems to upset some folks (tough luck, quite your bellyaching), but here's what The Washington Post's Tom Sietsema wrote five years ago about the place: "Pho 75's dining hall is not much to look at, just row after row of tables in a utilitarian box, and the service, while speedy, can vary from cheerful to sullen. But in all likelihood, you'll be too busy slurping your meal-in-a-bowl ($5.45) to care." I wonder if those prices have stayed the same. It's been awhile since I've been there and seems like a top contender to check out tonight.

Those particular about their pho seem to generally poo-poo Cleveland Park's Nam-Viet outpost. But it's been a generally reliable place when I want Vietnamese that's nearby and when I've wanted something more than just pho. And I've always liked gawking at the collection of pictures of all the famous patrons on the wall, including one of then-Attorney General Janet Reno awkwardly holding a baby. Because Nam-Viet serves more than just pho, you can have a much larger meal if you like. But with pho, what's the point in overstuffing yourself with distractions? It's definitely convenient, regardless of anything else.

Pho 14 in Columbia Heights gets good marks and is definitely within my downtown-proximity window, but has a reputation for being packed. (Washington City Paper readers named best pho restaurant earlier this year.) Maybe Pho Viet up the street instead?

Minh's on Wilson Boulevard in Arlington is another option. Washingtonian says it's "one of the area’s preeminent destinations for Vietnamese cooking," but doesn't mention anything about pho. I've been to Mihn's a handful of times in the past few years and have never ordered pho there. And while it's not good to put all one's faith in the Yelp community for guidance, but one common Mihn's-related thread you see pop up is "go to Pho 75" instead for pho.

Now, I really want to go to Toan in Montgomery County. But that's not going to happen, because it's no longer in business. Which is sad. Just read this mouth-watering Tim Carman description from Jaunary:

The pho at Toan goes down like liquid foie gras. Or pâtè soup. Or rendered beef marrow. You get the idea: The broth is slippery rich. It's so rich, flavorful, and full bodied, in fact, that I feel very little need to doctor the broth with Sriracha sauce and hoisin.

Hmmm, I'm getting very hungry for dinner. Maybe I should eat some lunch, first?

Any pho suggestions for tonight that fit my movie plans?

Photo of Toan's pho with added fat by Tim Carman

It’s 10:15 p.m. – well past my bed time – when I walk down the basement staircase and enter the U Street Music Hall. A tall blonde bartender clad in hot-pink tights takes my order.  She calls me sweetie and flirts a touch, stroking my ego and inflating her tip.  She does the same with the rest of the bar.

DJ Dave Nada pumps his head as his speakers pulsate onto an empty dance floor.  I’m not here for the music or people watching.  I’m here for the pho dog.

Owner Jesse Tittsworth created the bar snack with Erik Bruner-Yang, who has plans to open a ramen and dumpling joint, Toki Underground, on the blossoming H Street NE corridor.  Their Kosher dog starts in a bath of pho broth that Bruner-Yang makes himself.

Sufficiently plumped, the dog is split, griddled, and then slid into a crisp, toasted bun laced with hoisin and Sriracha.  The link is topped with a slaw of cabbage, radish, and carrots dressed in Szechwan vinaigrette, a nice crescendo.  There's a final flourish of fresh cilantro and Thai basil. I'm rather impressed with this showstopper of a dog produced in a kitchen with only two George Foreman grills and a crock pot.

I’ve suddenly forgotten the $5 cover charge I just paid to have access to a hot dog with an identical price tag.  The throbbing base of the sound system becomes a perfect backdrop as the salty, sweet, and sour flavors dance on my palate numbed with heat.  Easily one of the best bar bites I’ve had in recent memory, the object of my affection disappears quickly, leaving only a single strand of oily cabbage behind on my paper plate.

Aware I’m not in my environment, I make for the door and walk home, a thump-thump-thump fading slowly behind me. I take home not the bartender's cell phone number, but the memory of my first pho dog.

U Street Music Hall, 1115A U Street NW (202) 588-1880

From Wheaton to Falls Church, I’ve tried countless bowls of pho looking for one with the depth and pure heady aroma of Pho 75’s. I have yet to find one, which is why when I need a fix of this Vietnamese noodle soup, I continue to roll right into Hyattsville. I can’t vouch for the other Pho 75 locations, but this spot always treats me right. I don’t come for the joint’s Spartan, prison-mess atmosphere. I come for the soup, which benefits from the cooks’ doing nothing but doting over its long-simmering flavors.

1510 University Blvd. E., Hyattsville (301) 434-7844

The firefighter-yellow banner to the left of the entrance tells you the restaurant is called Mi La Cay Noodle House, a name echoed by the neon lights above the short set of stairs leading to the place.

But then you look to the right (see pic below) and notice another sign hovering over the establishment. It reads: Song Phat Noodle and Grill. I half wondered if there weren't two noodle shops now in the tiny space that used to house Nava Thai.

So before I could order anything, I had to clear up this dueling noodle shop mess.

The woman who took our order explained that, about six weeks ago, the owners of Song Phat (who happen to own the neighboring Hung Phat grocery store) sold the noodle soup to some family members. The chef remains the same, she said, although the new owners decided to expand the menu to include stir-fry and grill dishes. I guess it was enough of a change to merit a wholesale rebranding of the place, too.

Regardless, Mi La Cay leans more Vietnamese than the previous occupant — well, I guess I should say than the previous occupant before the previous, short-lived occupant. Nava Thai, in other words.

I don't think Mi La Cay made as strong a first impression with me as Nava Thai did in August 2007, but then again, that's a high bar to clear. My dining guest and I ordered the pho with eye of round, brisket and soft tendon as well as the duck curry with "sweet potatoes."

The pho broth was practically liquid butter, which made me regret that I ordered the side of melted fat and spring onions, like I did recently at Toan in Silver Spring. The broth was already rich enough, though, strange to say, not beefy enough for my tastes. I found the noodle soup more fatty and rounded, not deep and complex as I like my pho.

The curry was a massive bowl crowded with large, bone-in pieces of the bird, along with a dark crimson wedge of duck blood and some regular ol' potatoes that had been "sweetened" from lounging in what tasted like a coconut milk-based broth. The entree required that you remove the parts from the bowl, slice the meat on a separate plate, and return the carvings back to the bowl. The process was rather unwieldy but rewarded you with an altogether flavorful curry, short on heat perhaps but rich in creamy, aromatic pleasures.

Near the bottom of the menu that hovers over the cash register at Toan, there's a small-but-telling sentence. It states that the Silver Spring noodle house does not use MSG in its soups. To say I was startled would be an understatement.

"You really don't use MSG?" I asked the young man behind the counter.

When he said no, I raised a question about standard practices at pho parlors: "Don't most pho shops use MSG?"

"Yes," he said, "but that's why our soup is darker than other places'."

"How long do you simmer the broth?" I asked.

"We simmer for almost 24 hours," he responded. The cooks also take extra care to maintain the fat layer atop the simmering pho, he added, so that the soup doesn't lose heat or flavor. He even mentioned that Toan offers customers the option of ordering a side of spring onions in melted fat (picture below), for those who like to bolster the flavor of their pho. Vietnamese apparently love their noodle soup with added fat.

Sold!

The pho at Toan goes down like liquid foie gras. Or pate soup. Or rendered beef marrow. You get the idea: The broth is slippery rich. It's so rich, flavorful, and full bodied, in fact, that I feel very little need to doctor the broth with Sriracha sauce and hoisin.

It's a good thing I'm so taken with the broth. The proteins I requested — rare eye of round, fatty brisket, and soft tendon — are in short supply in my large serving of pho ($7.35; $6.45 for small). Once I popped the few slices of beef into my mouth, I was left with a dense wad of soft rice noodles.

While I wanted more beef in my pho, I still found plenty of other pleasures in that bowl. First among equals was the interplay between the silken noodles and the crunchy sprouts, a contrast of textures that, for reasons I couldn't ascertain, was more pronounced in this pho. It was a soft crunch that I returned to again and again, as fascinated by the interplay as a baby with a shiny object.

On my way out the door, I asked the man behind the register what Toan meant. Without missing a beat, he said it was Vietnamese for "perfect." I'm not sure about the validity of his translation, based on some quick searches I conducted, but I will say this about Toan's pho broth: It comes pretty close to perfection.