Cheap Eats
By L.E. Leone
Furry Creatures
OH, ABOUT a year ago or so, I'd say, I wrote a short story that went like this:
The marriage had mice. That was the first sentence, and then they start trying to trap the mouse but they can't, blah blah blah, and it ends with the husband cheating on the wife at the same time that the mouse is finally getting gotten. Subtle, huh?
Well, I'm not a lit reviewer, as I've pointed out time and time again, so I won't dwell on this old story any more than to say that, guess what, I'm married now, and guess what we now have. Mice! Good thing life doesn't imitate art, i'n'it?
In case you were wondering, art doesn't imitate life, either, in my opinion. I worked it out recently on the can, and here's how I think it stands: life imitates journalism. Art, if it's going to be good, doesn't imitate anything. Or if it does, it imitates something far more specific than "life" (e.g.: Picasso, reindeers ...).
But if life imitates journalism, I just want to point out here and now, while reviewing a restaurant for the Bay Guardian, that the Indians win it all this year for sure, in seven over the Giants; and mine and Crawdad's mice are meaningless little furry rodents rather than metaphors; and all our friends are in for good health and general philosophical prosperity from here on out.
Speaking of which, Wayway's almost wearing two tennis shoes again already, and he's got himself a new galpalperson. Hold on, let me call him and see if I can say that. Yep. Her name's Gatorgatorgator, and these are her measurements: good at pitch, eats meat, and supposedly plays Ping-Pong. So that's three thumbs up right there. We haven't played Ping-Pong yet, so I don't know how good she is – hopefully good enough to beat me, because so far no one else I know around here is. We have played pitch, and we have ate together, me and her and Wayway, a couple nights ago at Pho Tu Do. Clement Street.
We were in the Richmond because we were looking to check out this barbecue place in the Richmond someone told me to check out. Well, it was closed, which was just as well, really, because I'd already had Cliff's barbecued chickens for lunch that day, and while I've always asserted that you can't eat barbecue too many times in one day, hey, for all I know I'm wrong.
So, anyway, there we were (in the Richmond) with nothing to eat – at least not barbecue – so we naturally headed toward Clement Street. And there was this great-looking diner with meat loaf and patty melts and stuff for dinner, yeehaw, but just as we were about to open the door they closed. So we naturally headed down Clement Street. And there was Pho Tu Do, which was open, so we jumped in quick and sat down and ordered.
Cold spring rolls ($4.50), "beef balls" soup ($4.95), grilled pork and imperial rolls over vermicelli ($4.95), five-spice chicken over vermicelli ($4.95), and catfish in a clay pot ($6.95).
Everything was good. My favorite thing was the beef balls soup, because it was a strangely sweet broth, and good noodles, and lots of little beef balls – not to be confused with meatballs. Beef balls are more like fish balls than meatballs, you ask me: they feel weird and fishy and artificial, but they taste really good. Oh yeah, and the soup comes with the usual pho side stuff: bean sprouts, jalapeño slices, a lemon wedge, and by all means, don't skimp on the fresh basil.
The clay pot catfish was also very good, but maybe not quite as good as Mai's down the road, and maybe not quite enough catfish for seven clams. There were just three not-particularly-thick cross-sectioned slices, and one of them was mostly bone. But the dark deep sauce in which the fish is clay potted ... it's fantastic, and it'll flavor up a whole ocean of rice.
The noodle dishes were fine – nothing special, but fine. And the cold spring rolls were great, but there should have been three of them for $4.50, don't you think? I think.
And that's all I have to say about the food.
The atmosphere is fairly unatmospheric. And that's all I have to say about the atmosphere. Now, getting back to mice ... the reason we knew we had them was because they were getting into Weirdo the Cat's cat food (so that's what I'm using for bait). As for cats, correct me if I'm wrong, but aren't people with cats not supposed to have problems with mice?
So I've been challenging Weirdo the Cat's cathood. We're having a contest to see who catches more mice. The score: Me 4, Weirdo 0.
Pho Tu Do. 1000 Clement (at 11th Avenue), S.F. (415)221-7111. Daily 9am.-10p.m. Takeout available. MasterCard, Visa. Wheelchair accessible.
L.E. Leone is the author of Eat This, San Francisco (Sasquatch Books), a collection of Cheap Eats restaurant reviews, and The Meaning of Lunch (Mammoth Books).
April 7, 1999