Venture in the 13th Arondissement of Paris and the city of popular imagination – the one with elegant boulevard and great Haussmannian architecture – gives way to a small pocket of Asia, clashing with its frenetic rhythm. Cafes turn into bubble tea stores. Sunday farmers’ markets become massive Asian grocery stores. Plat du Jour Chalkboards have been replaced with hotpot menus. It is a union of Hanoi, Phnom Penh and Guangzhou.
For the average visitor, this is off the beaten path. For Parisians, it is a favorite follow -up for authentic, Asian household. What brought me here is Pho Tài, a humble grass of Vietnamese soups led by Chef to Vepi and his wife and co-manager to Aline. The underestimated restaurant has been quietly made one of the highest culinary gems in the French capital.
As I visit a sunny Sunday, I first smell the scent of the beef soup from a distance away. Patio in nature of Pho tài is filled with parisians that dip the steam bowls of Pho, bún bò hué (a plate of Vietnamese rice noodles) with pork trotters (13.80 €), and bumps in salad Papaya and baked beef (12.80 €). Aline greets me as I go to its foundation with a low key, without frills, its exterior decorated with simple signage of the restaurant name. Inside it holds a crowd of memorandums representing the country’s multicultural roots, with traditional Vietnamese art, pan-southeast Asian decorative instruments and hats and Guan Yu shrines, a traditional Chinese symbol of wealth and loyalty.
By order of Aline, I order the home specialty: Pho Vich (13.80 €), which has gained fans legions for high quality raw and meatballs from local butcher, so soft they almost melt in your mouth, and a rich but not too greasy soup. Chef spends hours cooking the soup daily, prone to it as it gently boils away, allowing fragrances to develop.
“Four to five hours of cooking every morning from 7:30 am,” says the chef. “And then we do it again in the afternoon. We keep it fresh for dinners, and make sure we finish the pho soup by the end of the day – absolutely without left.”
Owners pride on the use of components directly from Asia as much as possible, adhering to the original recipe from Hué, the coastal city in the central Vietnam from where it is. “You need to fry the onions and ginger first only for the right time before adding water and herb to make soup. This is the most important part. You fry a little more and your soup is destroyed.”
Chef te, who is Chinese-Vietnamese, comes from a family of soldiers; His father was a member of the Southern Vietnamese air division, who worked at the French Embassy. When he moved to Paris in 1968, to enroll in a military academy just as the Vietnam War escaped, his journey turned out to be a one -way ticket. “I began to ask what else I could do,” he says. “I was cleaning the dishes and didn’t pay. I couldn’t spend. These were difficult days.” He began training under the other Vietnamese chefs who had settled in Paris. “I was even arrested once to avoid French military service so I could work and cook,” he says.
In 1981, Vepin decided to start his restaurant, first in the 19th Arondissement before the business was moved to its current location in the early 2000s. Starting with Pho Classic, he later introduced Satay Beef Pho (€ 14.50) to the menu, now another specialty Pho Tai. Then the other signature dishes like Bun Bo Hue (soup with pork spices, followed foil soup, 13.80 €) and goi nuong (grilled beef and papaya salad, 12.80 €). By that time, Aline had also arrived in Paris from Cambodia as a refugee escaping from wars and punches in Indochin. The two met in Paris and became partners in life and business.
“When I started for the first time, I was selling a bowl of Pho for 50 francs,” says the chef. “At that time, the Parisians did not know how to eat pho. It took some time before people started knowing what I was doing and liked it.”
Today, French families and retirees sit with international students from Continental China and couples from Cambodia in the country. As it serves in the various tables, Aline passes without effort between the French, Mandarin, Cantonese, Vietnamese and Cambodia. However, different groups have different preferences. “We love the quality of the beef here,” says the French middle -aged couple sitting next to me. “So we like it quite raw.”
“French dinners like raw meat,” Aline adds. “Asians love him quite cooked.”
Pho Tài has seen an increase in popularity in recent years, and has won a gourmand Michelin Bib almost every year since 2017. Those who are familiar with Asian cinema and pop culture will acquaint many celebrities in photos plastered along the restaurant walls. “Tony Leung, Donnie Yen, Rosamund Kwan,” Vepin says, gladly ranking A-Listers Chinese who have visited his restaurant over the years. “Many stars, flying from the whole country to come.”
The couple’s most precious photo, however, is with Alain Ducasse, a very star -star French chef with Michelin, who is reported to call it “Chinese (JoP) Robuchon.
“We really started getting a lot of attention after Ducasse’s visit. He especially appreciated the freshness of our ingredients,” Vepi says with a smile.
At the suggestion of Aline, I try their signature dessert – mammary adhesive rice pandan (5 €) – a dish that is its creation, one that spends hours creating every day, first evaporating the rice, then combining it with taro and throwing the mixture into sweet, thick coconut nut or cold milk). Like most offers here, it is a seemingly simple and inadequate recipe, but it takes hours to prepare dear to come to life.
The work that goes on each dish underlines the reality that many places like Pho Tài face. The restaurant business is difficult, seeking great dedication in difficult environments. With God in the seventies and his children willing to take over, the fate of this celebrated neighborhood union is uncertain. “Our children are very successful in their careers to take over,” Aline says. “Plus, all of them are married to the French. They are not doing this kind of work. We can retire in two years and sell the place.”
When this happens, what worries him and Vepi the most is that they will disappoint their clients. “Where can you find such a fillers, massive noodles for such low prices in Paris these days?” Vepin says. “It’S’S’S everything to make everyone happy here.”
This article is part of a new series on neighborhood favorites: Undervalued restaurants that combine excellent, relatively affordable food with a sense of community. Tell us about your favorite place in the comments below. And follow Globetrotter at Instagram To learn first about our last stories
