Hoa Bien

The Food Snob
Hoa Bien is the “Little Engine That Could” of Vietnamese restaurants. It has never achieved the fame of Mai Village, nor the ‘best kept secret’ status of Tai Hoa, nor the passionate following of Saigon – all three just down the street on University Avenue.

That’s a shame, because Hoa Bien has reliably served some of the best Vietnamese soups and stir-fries in St. Paul for a long time. It was just a handful of tables in a crumbling old building on University, just west of Lexington, but a real refuge on cold days when nothing but hot soup would do. And on one memorable occasion when I was restricted to clear fluids in advance of a certain invasive medical procedure, two bowls of Hoa Bien’s broth kept me going for nearly 24 hours.

Now there is a new Hoa Bien, just a few steps from the old one, right on the corner of Lexington and University. It seems almost as large, if not as fancy, as the expanded Mai Village. As we drove up, the Bachelor said: “Does University Avenue really need two Pho palaces?”

After a meal in this large but modest space, I say yes. I do miss the old Hoa Bien, especially the manageable menu and prompt service. But just because I loved the caterpillar doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate the butterfly. At the new place, your choices have increased exponentially, including the opportunity to cook meat and seafood on a portable grill right at your table. I chose squid and beef, which came with rice paper spring roll wrappers, a bowl of warm water in which to soak them, and a garden’s worth of lettuce and fresh herbs. The grilling, soaking and assembling process was messy and distracting, but gave the Bachelor plenty of fodder for wisecracks. If my appetite had allowed, I would have ordered the seafood clear noodle soup, my favorite Hoa Bien dish. Instead we sampled flan and a layered concoction of coconut milk, gelatinous green strips and sweet red beans. It was both tasty and dramatic.

The new Hoa Bien hasn’t hit its stride yet. Service was slow and disorganized. But the food came out as fresh and appetizing as always, and by the time we left, every table was filled. You won’t see a koi pond at Hoa Bien, but smiling faces and delicious food more than make up for that – at least for me.

The Bachelor
The thought of walking up to an elegantly set dinner table and, with one grand swipe of my massive arm, sweeping everything that’s been so carefully laid upon it to the floor can at times be almost irresistible. Granted, I am a man, so there is typically no rhyme or reason behind lusting for such a senseless, destructive act. We fellows just like to see things go crash.

Yet, there are times when I would be more than justified to ruin yet another dinner party with my flailing arms. Take for example, those splendid affairs when the table is so choked with saucers, plates, butter dishes, salad plates, napkins, forks, salad forks, dessert forks, spoons, bread baskets, wine glasses, water glasses, table tents – you get the point – that you can’t hardly reach across the table without ending up with a sleeve smeared with hummus and an elbow soaked in merlot …. back comes my sweeping arm!

Although it was far from an elegant dinner affair, my lunch at Hoa Bien with the Snob and Cheapy certainly had my arm twitching. It all began when the Snob inexplicably decided to cook her own lunch. I know, I know.

In preparation, the waitress practically began piling my dishes into my lap to make room for the veritable kitchen the Snob would need. A giant bowl full of water, platters of raw this and that, and my favorite part, an immense portable grill just inches from my face. If it hadn’t been for the threat of third-degree burns up and down my arm, the whole shebang could easily have end up on the floor.

When I wasn’t waving smoke out of my eyes and dodging spatterings of hot grease, I found myself dining on a vegetable curry dish that was good enough to soothe my twitchy arm. The portions were plenty big, and the rice nice and sticky. The curry itself was a bit spicier than I’m used to, but I welcomed the distraction. Oh, man, I almost forgot. Our waitress! She certainly added a desperately needed bit of beauty to the cavernous, convention center-esque surroundings. If it wasn’t for that big rock on her finger, I would have ….oh who am I kidding. We both know I would have done nothing but silently pine for her, clutching the customer copy of the receipt she handed me to my massive chest night after night. Weep for me, Midway Como!

Back to the point of this review. So is Hoa Bien worth it? Sure. But if you’re going to cook lunch at your table, you’d best be at least an arm’s length away from me.

The Cheapskate
I wish you could all have been there for lunch with the Snob, the Bachelor, and me. (About half of you actually were, judging from the packed dining room and the line at the door.)

About 30 seconds into our visit, the Snob entered into her usual rapid-fire interrogation of the server, violating (at least in spirit) several international conventions on the treatment of suspects and prisoners. By now, the Bachelor and I know better than to intervene. We just fasten our seatbelts and enjoy the ride.

I did sit up and take notice, however, when I heard the server turn the tables on the Snob. “Do you like to cook?” she asked. And so it began … I have left it to the Bachelor to describe the unfolding of that debacle.

As for me, I have this old-fashioned notion that when I go to a restaurant, other people should cook for me. So I was relieved when my meal, the $12.95 Hoa Bien Special Seafood, came fully assembled and ready to eat.

The Hoa Bien Special Seafood is a dish I recommend. For my money they could omit that particleboard of the seafood world, fake crab meat. However, the crispy fried-noodle nest was filled with plenty of other genuine seafood – shrimp, scallops, and squid strips – and the piles of bright-green, crisp-tender broccoli, peapods and bok choy made me feel positively wholesome about eating out. The whole dish was drenched in a tasty oyster sauce that permeated the noodle nest and made it a lot more fun to eat that much broccoli.

Mind you, thirteen dollars is a lot to pay for lunch from the Cheapskate’s point of view. It was more than enough food for two meals, but somehow I forgot to pack up my leftovers. In truth, I was temporarily unable to perform the Activities of Daily Living, overcome with exhaustion from watching the Snob stir-fry, flip, dip, soak, stuff, wrap, fold and eat with one hand – while composing email on her Blackberry device with the other.

For the record, I side with the Snobista and against the Bachelorissimo on the tri-color yellow/green/red soybean dessert swimming in iced coconut milk. I like it. It’s different – not in the sense used by my Minnesota forebears (“That’s … different”) but in the sense of “Hmm … It’s not what I usually eat out of a parfait glass, but it’s strangely compelling.”

However, when I returned the next day for another heapin’ helpin’ of Hoa Bien hospitality, accompanied by two far less adventurous eaters, they did not echo the Snob’s pronouncement that the bean dessert was “tasty and dramatic.” There was drama, all right. But it was accompanied by a shudder and I think I heard the word “dreadful” in English and Slovak. There were faces of politely masked horror, and tentative poking at the parfait glass with a very long spoon. Never mind – more for me.

So if you visit Hoa Bien (or any other Asian restaurant on University Avenue, with the possible exception of Lee Ann Chin) with people who usually gravitate more toward Perkins and Keys, take my advice. First, don’t bother to turn past page 1 of the menu (egg rolls, chicken wings, cream cheese wontons, chow mein, lo mein). Second, stay away from anything that might cause the Snob to use the word “dramatic.” And third, for heaven’s sake, let the professionals cook your food.

Contact the Gang of Three at: withoutres@yahoo.com.

Hoa Bien

1129

W. University Ave.

651-647-1011

Open every day for lunch and dinner