Philadelphia Weekly

While food snobs seem (as the French soldier so succinctly put it in Monty Python and the Holy Grail) to fart in the general direction of any restaurant that might have more than one location, the fact remains that chain restaurants exist for a reason: consistency. Macho steakhouse, American (defined as infinite variations on the Caesar salad, watered-down Asian ingredients and hunks of meat slathered in trademarked barbecue sauces) and excessively portioned cruddy Italian seem to be the most popular chain genres, but corporate fingers are starting to probe (gently, so very gently) deeper into the belly of global cuisine.

Take Pho Hoa--a Vietnamese-food franchise based in California. A branch opened in South Philly at the end of April in the spot formerly occupied by the brilliantly named Korean barbecue restaurant Porky & Porkie.

Pho Hoa has swooped in and redecorated in a decidedly no-frills fashion. Bright lights and flat-screen TVs shine from above. Green Formica-topped tables line the walls, separated by booths that don't seem to be secured to anything. If you have an active family sitting in the booth behind you, as I did, prepare to spend the entire meal being flung forward every time they move. At its best, you could call it a Vietnamese diner, but without the character that makes a good diner so appealing.

The one point of interest is a blender bar decorated to look like a thatched hut, its shelves lined with a cheerful display of colored powders used to doctor the various smoothies, bubble teas and slushies Pho Hoa offers. Other than that, there's about as much ambience as a hospital cafeteria.

Pho Hoa's menu is also very stripped down, offering an array of--surprise--pho (Vietnamese noodle soups) and a limited selection of cold vermicelli dishes and rice platters.

The pho are divided into three categories: "for the beginner," "just the regular" and "the adventurer's choice." Beginners are offered lean cuts of round or brisket; regulars experiment with more challenging options like "fatty flank" and tendon; while adventurers brave bowls laden with both "fatty and crunchy flank," tendon and tripe. They come in two sizes, regular (massive) and large (I was too afraid to consider it). A separate plate of condiments--Thai basil, bean sprouts, lime wedges and super-hot peppers--can be added to ramp up the flavor of the scallion and cilantro-scented broth, which on separate occasions went from tasting just fine to boring, watery and bland.

The fat-phobic might want to steer clear of the fatty flank option, as it lives up to the description. While webs of stringy white fat hanging from the edges of the razor-thin slices of beef aren't appealing to look at, they do add richness to the liquid.

A pho with leaden meatballs makes for a prettier visual, but the flavor and texture don't offer much. A bowl of chilled vermicelli "salad" mixed with shredded lettuce, mint, sprouts, carrots and peanuts, dressed with a sweet-tangy vinegar and served with a fried pork roll, was a cool and refreshing dinner on an August evening when the temperature hovered around 5,000 degrees. Summer rolls--stuffed with shrimp, chopped pork, lemongrass and noodles--are similarly appetizing; unfortunately they arrived long after the pho.

The service at Pho Hoa is curious. Waiters buzz like wasps around your table, darting in every two to three minutes (starting when you sit down and before you've had a chance to open your menu) to see if you're ready to order. Once you place your order (it comes out rapid-fire and at random), those same waiters avoid you like you've contracted a contagious and disfiguring social disease. I hope they settle into a happy medium soon, because both extremes are jarring.

While stellar food can occasionally be found in humble environments, what you'll find at Pho Hoa peaks at satisfying. The food is good enough, the prices are low and the portions generous, but there are better Vietnamese restaurants in town. And there are also worse.

Nothing makes Pho Hoa stand out from the pack. Then again, not standing out from the pack is sort of the point of a chain, isn't it?

Pho Hoa
1111 S. 11th St. 215.755.4000. www.phohoa.com
Cuisine: Vietnamese.
Hours: Mon.-Sun., 9am-midnight.
Prices: $1.91-$6.70.
Sound advice: Background music interspersed with the occasional whiz of blenders.
Atmosphere: Hospital cafeteria meets character-free diner.
Service: Prone to extremes.
Food: Intro to pho.