Tag: Vietnamese

Restaurant review: Pho 86

On By ediblereadingIn Reviews3 Comments

The 21st of July last year might have seemed like a perfectly normal Monday to you, but in food and drink terms it was an eventful day for Reading. Lincoln Coffee finally opened its big new site on King Street, the one Workhouse had vacated the year before. A little way away, down Minster Street, Thai restaurant Nua opened in the spot given up by Bluegrass BBQ in January.

Both of those were expansions. Lincoln has retained its original site on the Kings Road (and indeed for a while it used to operate out of Reading Bridge House, back when having a coffee concession in an office building sounded like a capital idea). Nua has a site in High Wycombe and another in London, in an area its website describes as “Fitzorvia”. But the third hospitality business to throw its doors open on the 21st July? It was brand new, out of nowhere and a more interesting proposition.

That would be Pho 86, an independent Vietnamese restaurant that has sprung up in the site once occupied by The County Deli, most famously one of Kate Winslet’s first employers, that closed in 2010. After that it was Sonning Flowers for a while, and then a food shop called K&K Supermarket which sold Vietnamese ingredients, amongst others. It’s not clear whether the change of purpose coincided with a change of ownership.

Very little is clear, because it’s hard to find out much about Pho 86 online. I do know that they opened without an alcohol license, and with a hygiene score of 1 from the council, who inspected a week after they opened. Both those matters were covered in the local press, and things have moved on since then: alcohol is now available and the most recent hygiene rating, from last October, is a slightly less worrying 3. The Chronicle showed no curiosity about Pho 86’s backstory, however, so it’s hard to know whether this is the owners’ first rodeo.

And good luck figuring out from their website, because the blurb on it is so generic that it’s hard to believe that AI wasn’t involved. At Pho 86, we believe a great bowl of pho is more than just food — it’s comfort, culture, and connection it begins. It’s not X, it’s Y. It’s not been written by a human, it’s ChatGPT. Fair enough, I guess: times are tough for independent businesses, and hiring a copywriter is probably nowhere near the top of the to do list. It would have been nice to know more about them, but perhaps they’re letting their food do the talking.

So finally, after leaving it the best part of a year, I paid them a visit on a sunny Saturday lunchtime with Zoë. I might have made it earlier, if it wasn’t for the hygiene rating and the lack of booze, but another reason was Pho 86’s surprisingly old school approach to customers: no online booking, which is curiously retro in 2026. I should have phoned up, really, and made a booking, but it says something that I literally cannot remember the last time I did that, anywhere.

Subscribe to continue reading

Become a paid subscriber to get access to the rest of this post and other exclusive content.

Restaurant review: Bánh Mì QB

On By ediblereadingIn Reviews4 Comments

I was having a chat with my friend Reggie the other day, and I told him that my upcoming review was of Bánh Mì QB, the new Vietnamese restaurant on the ground floor of what used to be called Kings Walk. I’d been there earlier in the week, I told him, and I just needed to write it up.

“You know what the problem with that place is, don’t you?” he said.

“The landlord, I know.” The whole of that space, Atlantis Village or whatever it’s called this week, is owned by Sykes Capital, the company founded by noted philanthropist John Sykes. I should apologise at this point: if you had an Edible Reading bingo card, or were playing an Edible Reading drinking game – even at half eleven on a Friday morning – you’d fully expect me to name drop Sykes, Reading’s answer to It’s A Wonderful Life’s Henry F Potter, nice and early in the proceedings. I know I’ve probably lived down to your expectations: I’ll try not to mention him again.

Subscribe to continue reading

Become a paid subscriber to get access to the rest of this post and other exclusive content.

MumMum

On By ediblereadingIn Reviews2 Comments

MumMum closed in June 2019. I’ve left the review up for posterity.

One of my biggest regrets in Reading’s restaurant scene is a little place you probably never visited called Cappuccina Cafe. It was on West Street, looking out over an especially grotty 99p shop, it was a fusion of Vietnamese and Portuguese food, and it did the most wonderful bánh mì (the Vietnamese sandwich, served in a baguette, which bears the hallmarks of Vietnam’s French colonial past: an early example of fusion food, you could say). I reviewed it in May 2014 and – and this may be a record – it closed a month later. I never got to go back, but one of my friends loved the bánh mì so much she developed a several times a week habit before it turned into yet another nail bar.

It was part of a general saga of decline on West Street. First Fopp shut – I still miss that place – then Cappuccina Cafe, then Vicar’s closed after over 100 years of purveying meat to the people of Reading and finally Primark decamped to the old BHS store. It’s part of a general trend which leaves that end of Broad Street looking increasingly grotty, and possibly also explains why Artigiano decided to divest themselves of their branch, deep in the heart of no man’s land: it’s Broad Street Bar & Kitchen (for) now. That area desperately needs some love and imagination, two qualities our council seemingly lacks the ability to provide, foster or inspire.

Fast forward four and a half years, and finally another restaurant has appeared in Reading looking to fill that bánh mì shaped gap in the market. Literally in the market, as it turns out, because MumMum opened on Market Place in October, where the ill-fated Happy Pretzel used to be, just down from the post office. I was tipped off about it not long after it opened and I’d been watching with some interest, waiting for a month to pass so I could check it out on duty. It’s actually a surprisingly tricky place to visit for lunch, because it isn’t open at weekends, but I had a Monday off after coming back from holiday so I stopped in to check it out with Zoë, my partner in crime and regular dining companion.

From the outside, MumMum was all windows (with a laminated menu – but no opening hours – blu-tacked to them) but going in I was surprised by what a nice space it was. It was clean and neutral without looking basic: pleasant, plain low tables and higher tables with stools where you could perch and look out of the window. Far more seating, in fact, than I expected and without ever feeling cramped. You could look through into the kitchen, although some of the preparation took place at the counter: while we were there I saw one of the staff carefully, skilfully assembling summer rolls with tofu.

MumMum only really does three things – bánh mì, pho (the Vietnamese equivalent of ramen – meat and noodles in a rich broth), and summer rolls, which are like spring rolls but served cold and wrapped in rice paper rather than pastry. You are carefully walked through the process of ordering. There’s a cabinet on the left where you pick up your tub of pho (small or large, chicken or beef) and/or your summer rolls (pork, prawn or tofu). You pay at the counter, which is also where your bánh mì are prepared and where they add the broth and herbs to your pho, sort of like an uptown Pot Noodle. The signs and barriers turn this into a neat little queuing system, although they then brought everything to our table which felt more like a traditional restaurant experience.

The pricing is a bit more confusing, mainly because there are a range of meal deals and, if I recall, the prices on the menu behind the counter didn’t quite match the ones on the menu in the window. With a meal deal you get either a bánh mì or a small pho with a drink (although not apple juice, apparently) and a single summer roll (they usually come as pair). This does save you a little money, although the bánh mì meal deal is more expensive than the pho meal deal. The former is six pounds, the latter six pounds fifty (or six pounds eighty, according to the menu outside).

In reality they charged me twelve pounds for two meals, and they then knocked a quid off because I agreed to take a loyalty card, which was slightly random because I didn’t need to give any personal details and how the card worked wasn’t at all clear. By the time you go, if you do, the prices may well be different again, so good luck working out how much everything is meant to cost. In the meantime, allow me to apologise for possibly two of the most tedious paragraphs ever to feature in an ER review, and let’s get on to talking about the food.

Zoë took one for the team and ordered the pho – I hadn’t been wowed by my previous encounter with this dish, so I was happy to leave her to it. It did look very clean and virtuous, and everything was done well, so little shreds of chicken, noodles, vegetables and plenty of coriander were all present and correct. In pho much is often made of the quality of the broth, just how long they’ve laboured over it and the depth of flavour they manage to get in to it. I tried enough of Zoë’s pho to think that either they’d fallen short or pho just wasn’t for me (most likely the latter).

“I love the coriander”, Zoë said at the end, “but it didn’t have quite enough flavour.”

I did point out the unused bottles of sriracha, fish sauce and indeed MumMum’s very own home-made garlic and chilli vinegar at this point, only to receive a nonchalant shrug. But I could hardly make much of it, because when I’d had a similar dish at Pho earlier in the year I had done exactly the same thing. Unlike Pho, MumMum didn’t give you extra mint and coriander and goodies to stick in there to taste. I understand why: MumMum is very much more no-frills, and the packaging is more geared to the takeaway crowd, but the overall effect was just a little too understated.

The bánh mì was more like it, although still not quite there. There was chicken, plenty of it in fact, and although it wasn’t fresh off the grill and straight into the baguette it was still piping hot and reasonably tasty. There was plenty of what I think was shredded pickled carrot and daikon, which lent cleanness, bite and crunch. The excessively thick discs of cucumber all down one side I could have done without, but that might be more to do with me and my feelings about cucumber. And there was a little coriander and mint, although really just enough to make me wish there was more. It needed more full stop, and I could see plenty of ways that could have been done, whether by adding more zing and lime, a lot more coriander and mint, some peanuts or – the traditional element of a bánh mì, this – some pâté. It was a few steps above an entry-level hot chicken sandwich, but that was all. I wasn’t sure whether this was marketed at normal lunchtime shoppers or fans of Vietnamese food, but whoever it was aimed it wasn’t quite on the money.

What it really needed, I decided, was the satay sauce which came with the summer rolls. These were quite remarkable and easily the highlight of the visit; I’ve had summer rolls before and never quite got it, but these were properly delicious. It’s very hard not to keep trotting out the same adjectives to describe Vietnamese food: fresh, clean, delicate, blah blah blah. Believe me, I know that. But they seem so appropriate in this case, and in any event I’d rather not embarrass us all by dashing off to the thesaurus.

In some ways, the summer rolls should have been no more successful than the bánh mì or the pho, but that combination of crunch and subtlety worked here when it didn’t quite elsewhere. The prawn summer roll, Zoë’s choice had three prawns along one edge, my pork summer roll had a slice of roast pork rolled along the outside. In both cases it was a weird experience to take off the clingfilm and then see an equally transparent layer you could actually eat in the form of the rice paper. But the real winner was the satay – properly deep and rich with a beautifully simmering heat. A small quibble is that the little plastic tub it came in was far too small to allow proper dipping. A bigger quibble is that I just would have liked more satay sauce in general. And of course, the main quibble was that my bánh mì hadn’t come slathered in the stuff. Oh well, maybe next time I’ll just ask for a couple of tubs on the side.

“That’s the hit of the whole fruit” said Zoë, devouring hers, and I couldn’t disagree. They’re four pounds for two, and I could well imagine foregoing the bánh mì next time and just having a couple of the summer rolls instead. But, on the other hand, there was a fried egg bánh mì which also sounded intriguing. And that, in a way, is rather a telling thing about my visit to MumMum – you could argue that it was only a partial success, you could say it was still more unrealised potential than actual accomplishment, but I had still already mapped out what I’d eat on my next two visits.

Service was good, prompt and kind although it had a strangely downcast quality to it. We were handed a slip with a code we could use to enter a TripAdvisor review (and details of their website which, the last time I tried it, didn’t work). The chap who brought our food over was lovely and friendly. But, as we were leaving, I asked the other lady serving how things had gone in their first month.

“It’s not that good” she said.

There was just enough of a pause for me to worry, and then she went on.

“But it’s not that bad either.”

My heart went out to her for being so honest, and I left the restaurant in crusading mode all fired up to write a glowing review which would get people flocking (who am I trying to kid? Trickling) to MumMum. But after a period of reflection, I think it’s right to strike a different tone. MumMum is a refreshing option for the town centre; they have a lovely, well laid-out space in a decent location and they offer something you can’t get elsewhere in town. They are starting to do a superb job of drawing attention to themselves on Instagram (I was recently mesmerised by an Instagram story showing exactly how they make a summer roll – well worth two for four quid, I reckon).

All that is to their credit, but the realities of their situation are still challenging. Good as a location on Market Square is, it also means that two days of every week diners have to walk right past a thriving food market to eat there. On most Wednesdays, unless the weather was truly dismal, I’d struggle to pass up the plethora of options at Blue Collar – especially the challoumi wrap from Leymoun – to eat at MumMum. Closing on Saturdays and Sundays makes it difficult to try their wares unless you work in town. Their prices are slightly confusing and not always as competitive as they could be. But most of all, I really think MumMum needs to be bolder and braver with flavour, or I worry that they’ll never get the audience they need to survive. Their food needs to sing rather than stammer, and I sense – to twist the metaphor out of shape – that they’re still clearing their throat. I really hope they make it: I’d rather not mourn the passing of a second Vietnamese cafe in Reading.

MumMum – 6.9
20 Market Place, RG1 2EG
0118 3274185

https://www.facebook.com/Simply.Vietnamese.Taste/

Pho

On By ediblereadingIn Reviews1 Comment

To read a more recent takeaway review of Pho, click here.

“You never go on a review with two other people, do you?” said Reggie as he, Claire and I took our seats at Pho. I’d been due to go on duty just with Reggie, but Claire and I were having a quick drink after work when Reggie came to join me and we had one of those “let’s put on the show right here” moments. Looking across at my two friends, side by side like an interview panel, I realised that they might well spend much of the evening taking the piss out of me. Oh well, at least I’d get to try more starters.

“Well, not recently. I mean, I have in the past. It’s not like I have a legion of friends to choose from.”

Reggie smiled. “Three people, I like it. It might be a bit quirky.” Reggie is a big fan of Tony Blair and, like Tony Blair, I sometimes think he’s a little too worried about his legacy. Claire did a face I recognise, where she looked like she was rolling her eyes without actually doing so: it’s a neat trick, if you can manage it. I resolved to write a review as lacking in quirks as possible: that’ll teach him, I thought.

Subscribe to continue reading

Become a paid subscriber to get access to the rest of this post and other exclusive content.

Competition: Pho

On By ediblereadingIn Competitions1 Comment

A competition? I hear you ask. What’s all that about? Well, it takes a bit of explaining, but here goes.

I decided a long time ago that you would never see this sentence at the bottom of one of my reviews: My meal was complimentary but all the opinions expressed are my own. You see that a lot in some blogs, and I respect their choice, but for me it misses the point. Because yes, of course they’re your opinions – I’m sure none of these bloggers are sent copy to publish – but it’s really about the complicated interaction between your no doubt genuine opinions and not having to pay for the meal. Because free food (like other people’s chips) always tastes better, doesn’t it? And even if it doesn’t, the pressure – subconscious or otherwise – to pull your punches must be considerable.

So the path of the Instagram influencer, where you just post pictures of food and link to the restaurant and gush, or the trickier balance of reviewing free food on a blog and trying to keep your integrity and credibility in one piece, are not for me. I’m sure some people can pull it off, but I’m not one of them. As a result, you’ve missed out on comped reviews from, among others, Comptoir Libanais, The Real Greek and, err, O’Neills – and that’s just in the last month or so.

I’m sure if you Google you can find reviews by bloggers who made a different decision to me, and you might find them useful, but personally I’ll go later, spend my own money and write a different review without those dreaded italics at the bottom (except in the case of O’Neill’s, where I’ll probably pass if that’s all right with you).

Anyway, Pho contacted me with a similar question recently. Pho is one of the more interesting chains to move to Reading as part of our Londonification. I’ve never eaten in one on my trips to the capital, but I have very happy memories of Vietnamese food from eating in Glasgow’s magnificent Hanoi Bike Shop – all clean fresh rice paper rolls, hotpots and (conceal your surprise) glorious tofu made daily on site. The dish pho itself – a soup with noodles – is pronounced “fuh” and, I think, is an example of the cross-pollination caused by Vietnam’s French colonial past, being influenced by the French dish pot au feu. I’ve never had pho myself: I have some traumatic memories of pot au feu from many years ago, and I’ve always felt that pho, like ramen, in the words of food blogger Katie Low, combines all the disadvantages of eating both soup and noodles without any of the advantages of either. But Pho’s sound like the real deal, the broth taking 12 hours to prepare. And the rest of the menu looks very tempting, from tangy salads to fragrant curries (and you have to hand it to them for inventing a cocktail called the phojito). I’m also reliably informed that the majority of their menu is gluten free, which is worth knowing.

So anyway, I looked at the email from Pho and, instead of saying no nicely like I always do, I got to thinking: of course it would be wrong for me to accept free food, but maybe there’s another way. After all, it would be nice to give something back to ER readers who’ve been putting up with my reviews for the last four years. And there’s definitely been a buzz about Pho – not only were there queues down Kings Road past Workhouse on their opening day, but if they don’t achieve anything else they’ve at least vanquished another of Reading’s Burger Kings (only two to go!). So I asked Pho if they’d like to try something different and work with me on a competition, and I’m delighted to say that they agreed.

So, here’s the deal: Pho is offering the impressive prize of a three course meal for four people, with two alcoholic drinks per person for the winner of the first ever ER competition. All you have to do is write 200 words or less on the subject of your favourite Reading food experience, and send it to me – ediblereading@gmail.com – by 11.30am on Friday 25th August.

Now, I was tempted to judge the competition myself, but here’s the catch – as an anonymous blogger I know some of you, and I wouldn’t want you to be disqualified from entry. So I’m delighted to announce that Claire Slobodian, editor of Explore Reading, will be judging this one – and I’ll send all the entries I get to Claire anonymously to ensure complete impartiality. The usual caveats apply: the judge’s decision is final, no correspondence will be entered into, your home is at risk if you don’t keep up repayments on your mortgage, other brands are available yadda yadda yadda. I really hope lots of you have a crack at this, and I hope you agree that it’s a cracking prize. Many thanks to Pho for partnering (what a grown-up word!) with me on this.

Good luck if you take part, and thanks for reading!