A well-known fact about me is that I hate spending my money. What can I say? I already have so little of it as a college student.
And yet, I also believe in supporting the local scene—and keeping the local scene alive typically involves spending a little bit of money at local businesses.
Thus, I’m chronicling my thoughts on local experiences in Asheville and whether or not I think they’re worth the time and money—all in the name of students like me who want to support local but don’t want to gamble with their money.
Pho Real in Merrimon Square— is it worth it?
***
Mmm. A big bowl of pho. It’s a simple dish, a staple of Vietnamese cuisine, but it gets me good every time. Imagine that first mouthful of soupy rice noodles and warm broth— tender meat, the wonderful crunch of bean sprouts and scallions, a simple beef broth— its flavor deepened by the addition of fresh basil, lime, onion and cilantro. Can anything in this world possibly beat that?
Growing up in Charlotte, I never struggled to find a variety of Vietnamese restaurants. While I’m Filipino-American myself, I’ve long maintained that Vietnamese food in particular brings the utmost comfort— on both difficult days and days of celebration.
Stuck in an existential mental loop? The spice and tanginess of Bún bò Huế will cut through that fog and bring you back to life.
Maybe you’ve had a great day with friends at the lake, and you’re all getting a bit peckish. Perhaps it’s brutally hot outside, and you can’t imagine eating something heavy. Good news— the herby, crunchy coolness of Bún thịt nướng will get you to the finish line.
You texted someone you shouldn’t have? Alright— you’d better go get bánh mì with crispy pork belly to cheer yourself up. You’ll find yourself nibbling on a sliver of pickled carrot or daikon radish as you wonder, “Why the hell did I do that?”
Pho, however, is perfect for every occasion. Happy, hungover, heartbroken, homesick— these are all valid reasons to get yourself a steaming hot bowl of it.
So that’s what I did on April 14, a completely boring day. Class, then work, then homework. Blegh! Itching for something just a bit grander, I reached out to Victoria Renville, my close friend.
We would take a UNCA shuttle to Pho Real, then return to campus and hang out in her dorm— jam for a little bit after I’d restring her acoustic guitar and perhaps even watch the new episode of “Euphoria.” A perfect plan.
The shuttle driver dropped us off in front of the CVS. Although it was nearing evening and the air had cooled down quite a bit, the heat of the day still radiated from the black concrete. Stringy strands of brown-black hair stuck to the sides of my sweaty face. My red satin ballet flats plainly thudded against the hot pavement as we crossed the road towards Merrimon Square.
Now, I’m sure many people develop a hankering for pho during the bitter winter months, which makes sense. It’s a cozy, warm dish. However, I crave pho the most during that time of the year in which spring begins turning to summer— that time of year when I think, “I never want this summer to end,” all before the season has even started.
We passed metal tables of families enjoying ice cream in front of The Hop, their faces pink from being in the sun all day.
Pushing open the doors to Pho Real, the place was real quiet but for a man standing behind the waiter’s stand, on the phone, receiving what I figured was a takeout order. Since he was occupied, I begrudgingly ordered at the screen kiosk they have set up by the front.
One modern convenience that I just can’t get behind is the screen kiosk. While I understand they probably decrease the likelihood of guests receiving the wrong order— for instance, maybe you have that soap-cilantro gene, and you can’t stand the stuff, so it’s truly serious business when it comes to ordering accurately— I still fashion myself a bit of a neo-Luddite.
I can’t think of a single situation where I would rather interact with a clanker than a human being— even if that interaction includes awkward and perhaps trivial small talk with a stranger that I probably won’t see again.
Staring at our options on the screen, it was nice to see that Pho Real keeps a simple menu. They’ve got just what the people want right at the top of the menu—it doesn’t take more than two minutes for us to order up two hot bowls of beef pho. One with beef brisket, extra basil and no jalapeños ($14) and one with rare beef as well as an egg on top ($16).
Victoria and I sat at a two-person table against the wall. She slid into the booth side of the table while I sat down in the wooden chair across from her.
Pho Real has a simple interior. Good— I feel that the simpler an establishment keeps its environment, the better its food is. I don’t subscribe to many gimmicks.
There were a few items sparsely decorating the walls. Cone-shaped hats— known as nón lá— painted with bright colors and a few large bamboo steamer lids.
The food came out quickly, probably less than 5 minutes after we ordered. It smelled really, really good. Unlike almost every other Vietnamese joint I’ve visited, Pho Real doesn’t serve its toppings (bean sprouts, basil, jalapeños, etc.) on a separate plate but instead sprinkles them on top of the bowl. I later learned that you can order it on the side from the kiosk, so just be wary if you’re used to the alternative.
After adding a squeeze of lime as provided, we dug in immediately—ripping open paper-enclosed wooden chopsticks and cracking them apart. Victoria had just come from work, where she’d been in the sun all day for a donor event on campus.
I watched Victoria spoon some of the broth into her mouth before nodding at me intently.
“It’s good,” she said, with a glimmer in her eye, as she set down her spoon. “Wow. I’m, like, happy right now.”
I laughed, then tried some of mine. I decided to get beef brisket in it for the first time—typically, I just want the classic, thinly sliced beef, or sometimes I’ll go for meatballs, but I never really think about brisket. Always overlooked it.
The brisket was remarkably tender and had an excellent mouthfeel as it fell apart in my mouth. It was perfect, combined with the aromatic and fragrant broth, which was wonderfully savory and had a well-developed flavor profile without being too oily or watered down in consistency.
“I love hipster parents,” Victoria said as she peered over my shoulder.
I turned around to get a glimpse. Two sets of families had come in, both consisting of two tatted-up millennial couples and a single child. One of the fathers looked like Jeff Tweedy.
It’s always nice to see a few other patrons when most of the people entering restaurants like this appear to be DoorDashers—at least, these days.
Victoria then poked into the egg nestled on top of her bowl. The yolk burst, and she mixed it into her soup.
I always taste a few spoonfuls of the plain broth before adding any sauces—whether it be hoisin, sriracha, or chili oil—just for my own general appreciation but also to gauge if anything needs to be added.
Wonderfully, Pho Real’s beef broth needed little adjustment. While I added a small drizzle of sriracha, the broth was flavorful and comforting enough on its own.
The rice noodles were of good quality, and the produce tasted fresh. Next time, I’ll make sure to get it with extra bean sprouts.
It was a large, heaping serving—definitely enough to take home a small container of it, though I think we can all agree that pho tastes best the first go-round out of a gloriously robust ceramic bowl.
For $14 plus the tip I left—a few bucks cheaper than some of the really good places I’d frequently matronized back in Charlotte—it was an immensely hearty dinner. I hadn’t really been able to indulge in Vietnamese food since coming to Asheville, so I left satisfied with a belly full of familiar, good food. Pho Real offers a great cure for the homesick, just a 25-minute walk or short shuttle away from campus. I think that’s worth it.
Onward!
