"Most late nights, folks wait for a table at the Vietnamese Mai’s Restaurant as though stumbling around a hospital’s triage waiting area. Dressed in club wear, everyone clamors for a table as staff whizz by squawking, “excuse me!” with heavy, loaded trays. Just getting your name down at the host stand requires strength of will. Once in, servers will ask you to order almost as soon as you hit the seat. Ask for any phở, and you be rewarded just as quickly with a massive bowl of broth, vermicelli, and tender beef that will erase whatever choices you may or may not have made that sent you to Mai’s in the first place." - Chelsea Thomas
Quit Nguyen