So Billy’s Dad bailed on the first attempt at sunday supper club revitalization. Too bad, since he had grand designs about where he wanted to go, but these things happen. He’s got the bird flu or something similar. Big-L and I hit up Pho Van on hawthorne, which just opened.
Pho Van took the space from Noodlin’, an ill fated burgerville venture,and spent a good deal of time renovating. The Kitchen is now open, though masked behind large ebony carved panels that divide up the space. The floors are polished Cement, the walls largely bare, off white drywall, the ceiling painted aluminum. That’s a recipe for loud. The hanging chendeliers over the tables are old and asian looking; the larger ones for ambient light were quiet modern and cool cylinders of white and pale pink cloth.
I had been drinking most of the day courtesy of the NCAA basketball tournament, so my recollections are not that hot–what i remember the most: my food was very bland, the drywall behind Big-L’s head was horribly installed, the ‘Pho Van’ house wine is okay, but if it were my restaurant i wouldn’t put my name on it.
The service was, well, rushed and hawk-like. We’d barely finished our appetizer before our entrees were rushed onto the table.
basically, they’re trying for something similar to their downtown bistro, but with lower prices. The FOH needs pacing practice, and they need to fix the bad-construction blemishes, but these are all the hiccups of a brand new staff/rushed renovation. I’m sure it’ll all get sorted out. my favorite hiccup was the tall lanky boy who brought us our bottle of wine–he was a milisecond away from trying to trim the foil on a twist top. damn close to high wine comedy.
