Phodown

Don't let the dingy pink awning at Larkin and Ellis streets fool you: Vietnam II is the neighborhood's swankest pho joint, where a trickling fountain feeds a small koi pond. At the heart of the lunch hour, the place functions as a great melting pot -- we saw postal workers, construction types, and snazzily dressed Asian businessmen with their ties flung over their shoulders, lest the precious silk dip into their massive bowls of soup. Oddly, this is the only one of the three restaurants that serves the hoppy Vietnamese "33" beer. We started with spring rolls -- tacky rice-flour wrappers filled with lettuce, bean sprouts, pork, and shrimp -- which awakened the palate with a cool, minty kick. Slender, toothsome stalks of ong choy were sautéed with garlic and savory shrimp sauce. Roasted duck and fried potatoes nestled in a subtly spiced brown curry. The only misfire was bun rieu -- a mix of ground crab and egg, rice vermicelli, and fried tofu served in fishy-tasting tomato broth.

Then came the pho, approximately a quart of luxurious, barely sweet beef stock, as carefully nuanced as a fine consommé. Turtle Tower regulars may miss fresh rice noodles -- Vietnam II offers only the standard dried version -- but no reasonable human being could object to the beef combo's array of well-done flank steak and brisket, rare eye round, meatballs, tripe, and (bless me) strips of tendon, whose texture might best be described as a cross between chewing gum and al dente pasta. Garnishes included the standard chilies, bean sprouts, basil, and lime, as well as refreshing sprigs of mint and a heap of crunchy shredded cabbage. The last two ingredients (rarities in these parts) had also charmed me in Honolulu -- a place that smacks more of paradise than the TL, but has nothing on us when it comes to pho.