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| - What the Pho??!!
On a nondescript corner somewhere between the strip and downtown, in a place without the casino foot-traffic of flip-floppy marble-walkers or downtown project coolsters, and in the midst of Bail Bonders, court-goers and Juhlers, you'll find this very rough diamond of a restaurant.
With its pedigree and good chef, one would expect it to be more memorable than it is.
After all, following the Subway-ization strategy that has infected pizza places and burrito joints of late, it has a spring roll bar (sounds like something you'd put on race car in April, doesn't it?).
I mean come on; a bar where they make spring rolls is cool, right?
But even that doesn't quite work because it's in the back, out of sight, not in the front, so you lose the pleasure of marveling over the careful construction of the food you're about to consume.
And the treble-in-paradise acoustics of the room can only be described as Keith Moon doing an extended solo on your eardrums!
(For anyone under the age of 50, google "Keith Moon", dammit!)
The core problem is that the menu is as slim as a runway model and almost as simple-minded. I can barely remember what I ate! I think there was soup involved.
In a world where only special sells, and only spectacular lasts, none of that bodes well.
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