Mark Antonation

Steamed clams with fresh Vietnamese mint.

In case you haven't yet grasped the restaurant density along this stretch of Federal, you only need to make a quick -- if dangerous -- sprint across the street from three of the best noodle shops in town to stand panting at the entrance to another strip mall that houses DaLat Vietnamese Cuisine and Tacos y Salsas -- which makes a total of four distinct ethnic cuisines (Thai, Vietnamese, Taiwanese and Mexican) in five eateries. And I can still see a couple of other Vietnamese and Chinese restaurants in either direction if I stand on my toes. Vietnamese certainly dominates this part of the boulevard, but there's enough variety among even these to keep me on my toes.

See also:
- Pho Duy: round three on Denver's finest stretch of noodles
- A bao of respect for Lao Wang Noodle House
- At J's Noodle Star Thai, the rice dishes also shine

Mark Antonation

Pho Duy: equal parts vibrant and serene.

Pho Duy is the last restaurant in the noodle-shop triptych wedged into a diminutive strip mall between Kentucky Avenue on the north and a one-way street on the south that's lucky to even have a name (West Ford Place, for you cartography buffs). I'm confident in stating that nowhere else in this town will you find such a broad range of well-executed Asian flavors as at this trio: a near-perfect culinary tour of the Far East broken only by a Vietnamese acupressure studio. Pho Duy, like its neighbors Lao Wang Noodle House and J's Noodle Star Thai, is no stranger to best of lists and Internet accolades. And although many of the more successful restaurants on Federal have made cursory attempts at modernization (faux travertine tile, a new coat of paint), Pho Duy has embraced a simple, serene color palette and tasteful murals that serve as the backdrop for its stunning take on the humble bowl of noodle soup.

See also:
- A bao of respect for Lao Wang Noodle House
- At J's Noodle Star Thai, the rice dishes also shine
- Little bundles of joy at Gio Cha Cali

Mark Antonation

The constantly moving proprietor moves past in a blur

Amidst the clatter of plates, the requests to pass the dan-dan noodles or hand over the black vinegar, and the oohs and ahs as various dishes were sampled and approved, the almost forgotten basket of xiao long bao quickly lost its steam and, with it, a little of the plump appeal that makes soup dumplings such a fun and wondrous appetizer. But the sharp-witted gentleman who takes orders, brings drinks, darts to the kitchen to man the stove, and keeps an eye on any potential blunders from guests of his restaurant, Lao Wang Noodle House, wasn't about to let a group of distracted diners miss the moment when the dumplings achieve the perfect temperature and texture.

See also:
- At J's Noodle Star Thai, the rice dishes also shine
- Little bundles of joy at Gio Cha Cali
- Golden Pho & Grill is a newcomer, but fits right in on Federal

Mark Antonation

Jungle curry at J's Noodles Star Thai.

Technically, my next meal should be at Lao Wang Noodle House -- but I needed a few extra mouths to help me explore that menu and couldn't pull enough people together in time to stick with strict geographical order. And since J's Noodles Star Thai shares a wall with Lao Wang, the few inches of drywall and cinderblock that separate the two are hardly a barrier for cuisine swapping -- not when compared with the many hundreds of miles and the South China Sea that come between Thailand and Taiwan.

See also:
- Little bundles of joy at Gio Cha Cali
- Golden Pho & Grill is a newcomer, but fits right in on Federal
- Vietnam Grill serves up a surprising culinary lesson on Vietnamese cuisine

Mark Antonation

Tightly wrapped mystery bundles.

With the space that previously housed Pho 95 still vacant, I've now covered every full-fledged restaurant on the block of Federal Boulevard between Mississippi and Tennessee. That's one full-service Vietnamese restaurant, two pho houses, a banh mi sandwich joint, and a Chinese barbecue specializing in whole duck and pig. Along the way, I've also stopped in for some fresh duck eggs at the New Saigon Market and made a couple of questionable driving decisions both entering and exiting the strip-mall parking lot. But there are also a couple of places on the east side of Federal that, while not exactly restaurants, still serve up house-made items to-go that could easily fill a picnic basket or serve as the basis for some traditional Vietnamese recipes. The one that piqued my curiosity is Gio Cha Cali; it's a little bodega that peddles a variety of steamed and fried sausages and dumpling-like snacks variously wrapped in banana leaves, tin foil or plastic wrap.

See also:
- Newcomer Golden Pho & Grill fits right in to the neighborhood
- Vietnam Grill serves up a surprising culinary lesson on Vietnamese cuisine
- Ba Le Sandwich: Take that, fusion haters

Mark Antonation

More than the standard plate of toppings

The strip mall on the east side of Federal Boulevard between Mississippi and Tennessee avenues has been getting a new façade for the past few weeks...at least. Maybe the spring snowstorms slowed down progress, but it seems like construction came to a halt once the lumber was up, but before any siding, paint or other finishings could be added. At about the same time the work started, Golden Pho & Grill decided to open in the location previously occupied by Can Tho Pho. It's been operating under an undulating vinyl banner that, while clearly temporary, outclasses the signage of neighboring shops and restaurants, which have been forced to make do with whatever notices they already sported. These are not ideal circumstances for introducing a new restaurant, but the conditions highlight the new kid on the block in a way that may attract a little extra business purely out of novelty.

See also:
- Vietnam Grill serves up a surprising culinary lesson on Vietnamese cuisine
- Ba Le Sandwich: Take that, fusion haters
- Hong Kong Barbecue: Finding comfort in unfamiliar flavors

All photos by Mark Antonation

At this point in my journey up Federal Boulevard, I've eaten at more than a handful of Vietnamese restaurants and I'm starting to feel like I know Vietnamese cuisine. I've sampled sandwiches, slurped soups, plowed through noodles and devoured cuts and parts from virtually every meat source available, with the exception of chicken (which says more about me than about the country's offerings). But leave it to a humble and unassuming little restaurant called Vietnam Grill to challenge my assumptions, to teach me something new, and to dazzle me with vibrant flavors and new textures without ever approaching pedantry.

See also:
- Ba Le Sandwich: Take that, fusion haters
- Hong Kong Barbecue: Finding comfort in unfamiliar flavors
- Variety's not the spice at Pho 555 on Federal

All photos by Mark Antonation

A banh mi is the ultimate argument to silence detractors of fusion cuisine: a paper-wrapped torpedo straight into the mouth of purist snobbery and closed-minded opinionating. Combining the foods of two different cultures doesn't have to be intellectual, fussy or ill-conceived. A simple combination of ingredients on hand -- the marriage of necessity and convenience -- can become something powerful, iconic and, most of all, ridiculously delicious. I ate banh mi from Ba Le Sandwich for three meals in a row on a recent weekend, not for the purposes of research or to adhere to some food-writer code of ethics, but because once those crusty baguette sandwiches entered my mind, I couldn't vanquish their presence until I'd chomped my way through the majority of Ba Le's menu and evangelized to anyone available with proffered bites and explanations of the alchemy encapsulated within. In short, I was feeding my banh mi obsession.

See also:
- Hong Kong Barbecue: Finding comfort in unfamiliar flavors
- Variety's not the spice at Pho 555 on Federal
- Pho 96 keeps it warm and simple

Mark Antonation

This is where the ducks hang out

I can't say that I've ever been a fan of cooked greens. I can manage slow-braised collards, provided that they're wilted in plenty of bacon fat and dosed with garlic and vinegar. I'll crunch my way through a serving of salty kale chips if I have a crisp, cold pilsner to wash them down. I occasionally even crave a pile of mustard greens alongside some hoppin' John. But I burn out quickly on Swiss chard, and you might even catch me hiding the beet tops under a napkin or spreading them around on the plate to make it look I've eaten more. (My parents never fell for that one.) That's basically how I felt about Hong Kong Barbecue's stir-fried water spinach in garlic sauce. I appreciated the sheer mineral concentration and healthful qualities, but the swampy flavor and overwhelming metallic twang made my taste buds recoil. The silky, even buttery, sauce that coated those vibrant green stems and leaves, though, was enough to get me to down a few forkfuls. To fail to try water spinach is to try to fail, or something like that.

See also:
- Variety's not the spice at Pho 555
- Pho 96 keeps it warm and simple
- Carnitas Estilo Michoacan: Take the chilaquiles and run

Mark Antonation

Pho with rare steak, tripe and tendon.

Isn't there a saying that if you don't have anything bad to say, don't say anything at all? There should be. I don't have anything bad to say about Pho 555, but I can't seem to muster up much enthusiasm, either. On the day I stopped in, facing another bowl of pho in a place that hadn't earned the reputation of Pho Duy, the non-stop crowds of Pho 95, or the critical acclaim of Pho 79 was a difficult prospect. I tried to keep a positive attitude, but my eyes kept wandering from the squat, yellow-roofed joint on the corner of Federal and Mississippi toward its neighbor, Star Kitchen, which by a quirk of strip-mall design is set just far enough back from Federal that it has been slapped with a Mississippi street address and so is off-limits in my quest for tastiness along Denver's tastiest boulevard.

See also:
- Pho 96 keeps it warm and simple
- Carnitas Estilo Michoacan: Take the chilaquiles and run
- Pho Le: So pho, so good (and porky)