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Bun Bo Hue Minh has no relation to Binh Minh, the venerable banh mi shop with locations in NE and SE Portland, or Pho Binh Minh, the erstwhile pho joint in Tigard with attitude problems. It’s all a bit confusing, but one thing the Vietnamese people are known for, along with degenerate gambling and screaming into phone handsets for no apparent reason, is a lack of brand self-awareness and being innately incapable to create singularly unique nomenclature. On my mother’s side, I have at least three cousins named “Duc Nguyen”.
The location, just east of the 205 on SE Division, is kind of a dive, which for Vietnamese soup joint is often considered a redeeming quality.
That and the chili-spiked fish sauce condiment that is on the table informs you that this is the right place for a good bowl of soup.
As the name suggests, Bun Bo Hue Minh specializes in the central Vietnamese soup that features rice noodles (fatter than the vermicelli common to pho or bun dishes), and showcases a deeply flavored, fiery broth seasoned with chilis and lemongrass.
And Bun Bo Hue Minh certainly does produce a solid rendition. The broth—strong and assertive—is chock full of the meaty goodness you expect out of a great bowl of bun bo hue, including slices of beef shank, peppery cha lua, pork knuckles, and, for the bold, cubes of congealed pork blood. If you come here only for the namesake specialty, you’ll do good. I have to say, in regards to this particular dish, Ngoc Han Bun Bo Hue delivers the unrivaled deliciousness in these parts, but Bun Bo Hue Minh is no slouch (along with “Bun Bo Hue”, further down south on SE 82nd near Clackamas — I know, it’s very confusing).
But BBHM also rolls a tight salad roll—fresh and well handled. At $3.50, two of these are great value. The dual chive backbone that runs the length of the roll informs you that someone cares. As I always sub nuoc cham instead of the (more traditional) hoison, and I appreciate it when a Vietnamese restaurant aggressively seasons their dipping sauce, but I always spike it with garlic chili sauce. If your Vietnamese doesn’t have this on the table, you’re going to the wrong place.
I also enjoyed the bun rieu here. The soup came with a fair amount of meat/seafood “loaf”, and the broth had a great balance of flavors, pungent with seafood flavor and redolent of deep tomato. Bun rieu is typically a soup I avoid in a restaurant (my mom’s version was a household favorite growing up) and in my experience it’s an afterthought at most Viet restaurants that try to cover all the bases. As a general rule I won’t order it unless a place is known for it (the only reason I came here to order it was on the strength of Extra MSG’s report at Portlandfood.org), but BBHM delivers a dependable version.
Above: The busser hates my kind.
I’m not sure what was up my first very visit (when I ordered bun rieu), but I was only given a sparse salad plate of cilantro, sprouts, and lime by a busser. Bun rieu absolutely demands mints (spearmint, parilla, lemon balm) so I had to flag down my server and insist that this treasonous crime against humanity be addressed immediately. I’m not sure if the busser thought perhaps I wasn’t part Vietnamese, but in any regard I accused him of racism and cursed his family, including his pets. We exchanged fisticuffs on Division street, and subsequently a pop-locking/breakdance battle. Nobody won (nobody ever wins). I assume this faux pas de garni was simply a one-time oversight, and ensuing visits have proved this to be the case. But as overly enthusiastic Ron Paul teabaggers abundantly proved this past election cycle, don’t ever allow anybody to TREAD ON YOU.
Above: What I made them bring me, as the U.S. Constitution mandates an abundant garnish platter (Article 7, Section 3, Paragraph 2), just like it says slaves are 60% human.
Bun Bo Hue Minh
8560 Southeast Division Street
Portland, OR 97266-1553
(503) 777-1917
Bun Bo Hue Minh on the WORLD WIDE WEB
Taqueria Delicias Mexicanas lies on the south end of NE Lombard, at the crook where the throughway leaves the northern boundary of Cully and officially completes a transformation into the PDX Airport back door express highway (Gartner’s Meat Market, Taqueria Estacion, and two inscrutably vague strip clubs1 notwithstanding).
It’s got a fairly noticeable sign, so while it may be easy to miss it once, after that it’s impossible to miss. The last few years I’ve made dozens upon dozens of trips past this spot, sometimes even in search of tacos. But it wasn’t until just recently that I finally stopped by.
The joint is a sit-down taqueria, with table service and chips and salsa and everything. I stopped by on an recent early Sunday just after dropping a friend off at the airport.
The have an extensive menu for a place that bills itself as a taqueria (including serving beer). Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, and Part 5.
The salsa was a perfectly fine table sauce.
The chips were stale.
The taco triumvarite. I believe the tortillas at Taqueria Delicias are commercial. As you can see, I added a fourth taco, in this case a fish. I noticed some mariscos items on the menu and wanted a baseline in that department to determine if perhaps Delicias warranted a repeat visit for a coctel de camarones.
A fully dressed taco. The table sauces at Delicias are serviceable, if a bit tame.
Asada. The meat was chewy, and, as you can see, not very crisp. Somewhat funky in taste, as it had been sitting uncovered in a fridge for a bit too long.
Pastor. These were thin sheets of pork (leg?), pounded thin, and seasoned with adobo seasoning. Not bad, but not terribly good either.
Carnitas. On the bland side, with little of the rich, unctuous quality you’d associate with a superlative carnitas.
So how was the fish? Ugh. The meat consisted mostly of that fatty lip of the belly you would normally THROW AWAY. Furthermore, many pieces still had pieces of flabby skin attached to the gamy, ersatz flesh. The fish (maybe trout? tilapia?) was, well, fishy, and very “off”. I could not finish the taco.
With the Estacion taco truck just a bit further east, and with a few solid options in Concordia/Alberta, I’m not sure how Taquerias Delicias Mexicanas deserves a repeat visit. I’ve heard some generally positive things about their desayunos from a couple sources, so perhaps for a safe breakfast it might warrant a return.
Taqueria Delicias Mexicanas
5800 NE Portland Hwy
Portland 97218
(503) 493-0075
Footnotes
1 One of these strip clubs is non-alcoholic, meaning they are underage-friendly. There’s a cover charge and a one drink minimum. Watching full frontal with a bunch of 19-year old Mexican national daylaborers — all while sipping on a Fresca — is a very surreal, uncomfortably self-aware moment. Or so I’m told.