"Cafe su dah, sil vous plait"
I was greeted warmly with "Just sit down anywhere" by the gracious host as he walked by balancing a few bowls of dishes he was delivering to a table of 11. Other than this huge party, I was the only other one there at 2 pm. I took a seat facing south for better vantage point of the street scene (I didn't realize the streetcar ran that often on a Sunday). The bud vase filled with two stalks of fresh orchids on the table was an elegant touch, as well as the vase of orange tulips at the window .
Hanoi 3 Seasons is a gem of a place. I haven't enjoyed a meal like that in a while, and I certainly did not expect it in Chinatown (or Little Saigon as the street seems to be morphing into).
I was completely charmed by the place. Nice, clean, intimate space with green tea-coloured walls and tastefully framed prints. Wonderful unpretentious casual service. How casual? Well, let's put it this way, when the waiter took my order, he sat down on the chair opposite me, leaned into me to help me navigate through the two-page menu.
"This one," I said, "is it a cold noodle dish?" Apparently not. It was a pho, but Hai (don't know how to spellit but I think that's his name) was quick to point me to the right item. "You want this one," he said pointing to the bun with the seafood and vegetable topping.
When the food came, the aroma was absolutely tantalizing. I sat there and fanned the smell to my nose some more before I can bring myself to dig in. The first bite was exquisite. In addition to tumeric/curry and a hint of cilantro, it had dill(!) -- one of the culinary influences of the French, I was told. The vermicelli was tossed in a curry and dill sauce and topped with crunchy fresh vegetables, mostly thin slices of celery and chopped baby bok choy, and shrimps, fake crab (can't really expect the real thing for $6.50, can we?), and three mussels in the half shell. The contrast in texture was also notable: cool vermicelli at the bottom of the bowl topped with a steaming, fresh-from-the-pan mixture of vegetables and seafood. Visually, it was also a treat. Picture this: bottom layer of white noodles heaped in a mound with the top stained yellow from the curry sauce, then a few dots of red shrimps, green vegetables and herbs, and blue-black mussel shell. On the side, was a small bowl of nuoc mam, an orange-coloured fish sauce I drizzled over my meal.
I also ordered my first iced coffee of the season. The first sip of the strong sweet coffee hit me with a jolt. I decided to let it sit there until after my meal. By then the ice had melted and the coffee, mellowed.
While I was eating, Hai and I chatted -- about food, about life as an immigrant, the joys/perils of the restaurant business. It was all very comfortable and familiar, as if I was sitting in his kitchen. He carried on with his work as we chatted -- wiping tables, straightening chairs. It was a wonderful, restful meal. I can't wait to go back -- with a group of friends next time so they too can see how wonderful this place is.
Hanoi 3 Seasons is a gem of a place. I haven't enjoyed a meal like that in a while, and I certainly did not expect it in Chinatown (or Little Saigon as the street seems to be morphing into).
I was completely charmed by the place. Nice, clean, intimate space with green tea-coloured walls and tastefully framed prints. Wonderful unpretentious casual service. How casual? Well, let's put it this way, when the waiter took my order, he sat down on the chair opposite me, leaned into me to help me navigate through the two-page menu.
"This one," I said, "is it a cold noodle dish?" Apparently not. It was a pho, but Hai (don't know how to spellit but I think that's his name) was quick to point me to the right item. "You want this one," he said pointing to the bun with the seafood and vegetable topping.
When the food came, the aroma was absolutely tantalizing. I sat there and fanned the smell to my nose some more before I can bring myself to dig in. The first bite was exquisite. In addition to tumeric/curry and a hint of cilantro, it had dill(!) -- one of the culinary influences of the French, I was told. The vermicelli was tossed in a curry and dill sauce and topped with crunchy fresh vegetables, mostly thin slices of celery and chopped baby bok choy, and shrimps, fake crab (can't really expect the real thing for $6.50, can we?), and three mussels in the half shell. The contrast in texture was also notable: cool vermicelli at the bottom of the bowl topped with a steaming, fresh-from-the-pan mixture of vegetables and seafood. Visually, it was also a treat. Picture this: bottom layer of white noodles heaped in a mound with the top stained yellow from the curry sauce, then a few dots of red shrimps, green vegetables and herbs, and blue-black mussel shell. On the side, was a small bowl of nuoc mam, an orange-coloured fish sauce I drizzled over my meal.
I also ordered my first iced coffee of the season. The first sip of the strong sweet coffee hit me with a jolt. I decided to let it sit there until after my meal. By then the ice had melted and the coffee, mellowed.
While I was eating, Hai and I chatted -- about food, about life as an immigrant, the joys/perils of the restaurant business. It was all very comfortable and familiar, as if I was sitting in his kitchen. He carried on with his work as we chatted -- wiping tables, straightening chairs. It was a wonderful, restful meal. I can't wait to go back -- with a group of friends next time so they too can see how wonderful this place is.
posted by Grace at
10:45 PM
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