I’ve made a few repeat visits to HA & VL on SE 82nd to sample their excellent rotation of daily soup specials, and I must say this unassuming storefront tucked away in a roundabout strip just north of the Fubonn super shopping center continues to capture my delicious fancy in ways that I have rarely experienced in my short time on this earth.

On Sundays, one of the two soup specials includes bun thang (in addition to a chicken pho). Bun thang was a staple soup in my household. Though my mom prided herself on her terrificly nuanced pho, this rice noodle soup–clear broth accompanied by a protein triumvirate of omelette chiffonade, sliced cha lua (Vietnamese pork loaf/bologna), and tender chicken meat, pulled from the bone—was the stockpot dish I’d most commonly smell when I awoke on weekends.

HA & VL’s version is a veritable revelation, at once resplendent with nostalgia and packed with savory, “clean” flavors from the broth and the seemingly perfect proportional distributions of noodles and accoutrements. A final garnish—a crumble consisting of seasoned, toasted and minced dried shrimp—takes this bowl from terrestrial to other-worldliness.

Perhaps the family at HA & VL are using standard, commercially available rice noodles in their soups, but here they seem so much more toothsome and satisfying.

On a recent Thursday morning I was fortunate to leave the house a bit early to get to HA & VL to sample their ethereal crab soup. This soup features bahn canh noodles; thick, chewy and substantial rice noodles with a toothsome bite not unlike Japanese udon.

Though it is billed as crab soup, crab lends more of a distinguishing background to the stock, with ephemeral slivers of crab flesh punctuating the thick, impossibly savory and viscous broth.

As usual with Viet soups, a dish of fresh herbs and vegetable garnish pairs on the side.

The soup is studded with pink shrimp, quail eggs…

…and wonderfully meaty and fatty slices of tenderly braised pork. A sprinkle of fried shallots complete the bowl, a dish so overflowing with umami and residual deliciousness that it’s nearly depressing; each passing, joyful bite is somehow counterbalanced with an impending dread that the soup is that much closer to depletion.

Then you are done.

Keep in mind the availability of the soups here is–like every bite–impermanent. HA & VL only serve their specials during the wee morning hours, starting at 7:30 am on weekdays and 8 am on weekends, and only until they sell out. I spoke with the matron about the possibility of opening throughout the day, perhaps into the evening; she responded with a trite perfunctory truism—she’s older, and she couldn’t handle the grind of a full workday churning out the necessary provisions for cover after endless cover.

There is probably some truth to this. But I also suspect a separate phenomenon is in play here. There exists a demarcation between what is created at a micro level, and what can be successfully executed via extrapolation with every nuance intact. What HA & VL are doing is cooking for their extended family, and you just happen to have an invite to a front row seat if you get there early enough. The care and honor they imbue into every bowl of soup that is whisked from their compact kitchen cannot be duplicated at a macro level. To do so would be disingenuous.

The Interwebs

PDXPlate
Portlandfood.org
BB@ Eat.Drink.Think. has been there
So has the Oregonian‘s Karen Brooks