Yeh Yeh's Secret Thursday/Friday/Saturday Soup, Hu Tieu My Tho
Today we are speaking of only one item on Yeh Yeh's menu, and we are speaking of it with reverence.
That menu item is an unpretentious soup that doesn't make you choose between shrimp or pork, rice noodles or egg noodles. This soup believes you should have it all.
And this soup has no soup ego whatsoever; it doesn't even demand to be soup.
Noodles and their accompaniments, plus a dollop of sauce, can just hang out in a bowl, and you can choose to have the deep umami-flavored seafood broth placed--with no fanfare whatsoever--on the side. This is called having Hu Tieu My Tho "dry."
There is something so darn likeable about a soup that is fully ready to be a soup, but only wants to be a soup if asked. Until then, it is perfectly content to just be "noodles."
Maybe I feel protective over Hu Tieu My Tho because I got to know--and fall in love with--such a wide variety of soups when I lived in Ho Chi Minh City. I was so busy exploring them that I think I only ate pho about ten times within a span of two years--even though the best pho in the city was right around the corner from my home.
We all know that Pho, the northern "Hanoi" soup, gets all the attention. Bun Bo Hue, a central region "Hue" soup, usually comes in second place. And then there's Hu Tieu My Tho, originating from Chinese immigrants in Cambodia and eventually making its way to the south of Vietnam, now known as the "Ho Chi Minh City" soup. Hardly anyone here has heard of it--or of so many of my other soup loves from those years.
But is Hu Tieu My Tho doing a "Jan Brady," saying "Marsha, Marsha, Marsha!" about pho in a jealous temper tantrum rage? No. It isn't.
At Yeh Yeh's, Hu Tieu My Tho doesn't even ask to be an everyday menu item. It's happy to be just a Thursday, Friday, Saturday thing, advertised on a "by the way" sign far from the well-lit overhead menu.
It asks nothing of us, yet offers so much.
My first year in Ho Chi Minh City I had a motorbike driver named Nam. He was reliable in getting me to my job at the American International School on time every morning, despite the crazy motorbike traffic. But he was very strict; he had definite ideas of what I should and should not do. Because of this, I referred to him as "my mother" to all of my colleagues, who all got a real kick out of how opinionated he could be. Everyone going out for happy hour drinks? "I have to ask my mother," I would say. One time he followed me into a shoe store and gesticulated wildly that I should not get any heel height put on the shoes I was having made; he was trying to tell me You're already way too tall!
He drove me crazy, but he made me laugh, and he recognized my love of food right away. Every once in a while, he would take me on a food mission after school. (Here he is, pictured with my mom, who visited in 2009. I call this picture "My Two Mothers."
He was passionate about these missions, and was very invested in my enjoyment of his choices. One day he drove me all the way across town to take me to his favorite back alley Hu Tieu My spot. As we sat in red plastic chairs slurping egg and rice noodles, he tried his best to get me to pronounce "Hu Tieu My" correctly.
"Huuu Tuuuu Mee" he would say, forcing his lips into contortions to enunciate as clearly as possible. I tried so hard to say it exactly as he was saying it, but he only grew more frustrated. "No, no, no!" he would sigh. After a few minutes he would get the courage to try again. He was like a conductor with the most disappointing orchestra ever. Eventually, he just shrugged and gave up. There was no hope for me.
But at least he made me a Hu Tieu My convert; I went back to Nam's secret spot again and again.
Now I'm here to tell you about my Hu Tieu My spot, which is actually a well-known restaurant filled with a vast array of much-praised Vietnamese sandwiches, vermicelli bowls, and pho.
However, there is not one mention of the Hu Tieu My on Yeh Yeh's Google reviews (that I saw); therefore, it's my secret, and I'm taking you there via EAT99. I won't make you say it correctly, because I still can't.
This is what makes me happy: I'm pretty sure Nam (RIP) would be very proud of me for passing his secret on to you.
Homework:
Everyone loves a secret - use the one I just gave you and introduce a friend to Hu Tieu My Tho!
Yeh Yeh's
19915 64th Ave W #101
Lynnwood, WA 98036
(425) 776-7213
Saturday 10:00am - 6:00pm
Sunday Closed
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