"My friends laughed at me," said Vu Nguyen with a chuckle as he answered Shepherd's many questions about the menu during that first meal. Nguyen runs the place along with his mother, who silently mans the kitchen, and was determined to put his own mark on the new menu. He's part of a new generation of ethnic food restaurateurs moving menus in a modern direction, even out in the suburbs.
Nguyen's friends said that no one would order his venison, rabbit, quail, boar, eel, mutton or alligator. But he didn't pay them any mind as he set about sourcing the best local providers of these meats. He gets the rabbit from a farm just down the road; he gets the quail when it's in season.
Theo Santos
Vietnamese-style deep-fried rabbit is only one of the delightful surprises on the menu at Thanh Phuong.
Location Info
Details
Related Content
More About
While there were concerns about the salability of the game meats (which are what attracted me in the first place), Nguyen has found that it's actually the pho — something almost taken for granted in southwest Houston and inside the Loop — that's proving less marketable to Pearlanders more accustomed to fried rice than noodle soup. He's slowly turning people on to pho, though; much of his success can be attributed to the long roasting and stewing times for the beef bones, as well as his insistence on using only Vietnamese herbs and spices.
"Some people think you can use American stuff," he scoffed with a sly smile as he offered a sample bowl of his broth. It was intriguingly dark in the white bowl, an intoxicating mixture of beef fat and broth, anise and nutmeg. The surface was slick. The flavor stuck in the back of my throat, clinging richly to my tongue. I could only imagine what it would taste like fixed with fat purple basil leaves and bright coriander.
On my second trip to Thanh Phuong, I was pleased to find that the staff remembered me. The jovial, welcoming vibe is only further enhanced by their quirkiness and friendliness, although it turned out they mostly remembered me because I ordered so much food and because they were shocked to be serving white people who ordered Vietnamese dishes...and could pronounce them properly.
They're bound to remember me again, then, as I ordered just as much food this second time around. Our young waiter, who told us that he would be a stand-up comedian if he weren't studying neurology, bluntly told my group of four to move to a larger table because, "You guys ordered a buttload of food."
I ordered those chicken wings in caramelized fish sauce I'd admired from afar last time and wasn't disappointed, quickly crowning them my new favorite wings in town. The fish sauce had, indeed, been caramelized and released a sort of nutty sweetness out of the fermented stuff; all trace of briny or fishy flavor was entirely gone. It made for a sticky-sweet glaze on the wings that I couldn't get enough of, licking my fingers until every trace of it was gone.
Meanwhile, my dining companions were stone silent over their bowls of bun bo nuong — chargrilled beef over a messy tangle of vermicelli noodles — and clay pots of pork and rice. An entire pork chop lay across the top of the pot; underneath, the rice contained a wild array of carrots, peas, shallots, oyster mushrooms, diced sweet sausage and bits of fried egg. Across the table, another friend speared pieces of sautéed venison, the deer meat slicked lightly with oil from the wok that had seared it along with broad chunks of red bell peppers, onions and jalapeños. All were far too busy enjoying their food to discuss it.
And we once again ordered two pots of luscious crème brûlée to round out the meal.
I saw Chris Shepherd again at a Pilot Light dinner on a recent Saturday night. "Have you been back to Thanh Phuong?" he asked with a broad smile. "I'm going tomorrow for lunch."
"Oh yeah?" I asked. "And will you be working there after all?"
"Yep," he replied. "I've got it all worked out."
Shepherd plans to have several Vietnamese-influenced dishes on the menu at Underbelly when it opens within the next year, in a tribute to Houston's diverse and thriving ethnic food scene. So diverse and thriving, in fact, that Houston itself can't contain it all, making a drive to Thanh Phuong even more of an adventure.
I can only imagine how packed Thanh Phuong would be if it were any closer to the city. As it is, hidden away in old Pearland, it has all the potential to become a cult restaurant, the kind that inspires heady road trips and loving screeds on food blogs across the city, as well as inspiring a few chefs along the way.
katharine.shilcutt@houstonpress.com
