When it comes to peddling wares, restaurant websites can vary from the sublime to the ridiculous. From those that look like they’re selling you a sports car to something that I might have knocked up on a Word document, whatever the intent – or level of execution – Marketing 101 suggests you want to grab your audience’s attention.
If Med Salleh Viet is anything to go by, while the website may lack finesse, the video of their signature wagyu beef pho will certainly make you sit up. I would never have expected to hear Metallica’s Enter Sandman on a foodie social post. Steaming beef stock is poured over slivers of raw wagyu as James Hetfield’s throat-shredding vocals rent forth. It might have made me chuckle at the conceit, but it certainly got me interested.
But then Med Sallah Viet defies convention in more ways than one. Take its location, in a basement of an unnoteworthy hotel in a terraced residential street in Earl’s Court. You’d miss it were it not for a token sign attached to the railing. And, for that matter, once inside it feels like you’re eating in someone’s dining room, but that’s not to deride it. This is Med Salleh Viet’s appeal. It’s one of those small, tucked away places where good, home-cooked food is offered; a word-of-mouth place that you’d love to know about.
We’re welcomed warmly, and offered a table by a mural filling the far wall, a street scene of Vietnam. It’s a statement, certainly, as much as the vivid aquamarine that covers the other walls. There can’t be more than a dozen covers at any one time, but every table is occupied. With no bar to speak of, drinks are limited; a basic wine list or a Vietnamese beer, but I opt for a non-alcoholic cooler. All still feeling very much like I’m just dining as a guest at someone’s home.
Fortunately, as Vietnamese has become more commonplace with the now ubiquitous Pho (the dish, not the chain – albeit popularised by them) and Banh Mi making up more intriguing alternatives to the working sandwich, there’s a sense of familiarity with the menu. But MSV, if you’ll allow the acronym, is the sort of place where it’s better to lean on the ebullience of the team to guide you. Without convincing, we’re led to the wagyu truffle pho, their house speciality, and the grilled squid is sold in to such an extent that we can’t help but order it. I’m sceptical about plain old squid, but concede given the enthusiasm with which it’s recommended.
To kick off, we go with a mango salad and summer rolls. Classic. It may be winter, but I can practically taste the freshness of these, and they’d be a welcome respite from the excesses of the festive period. Then the squid arrives, almost whole, and is snipped into bite-size pieces at the table. I couldn’t have been more wrong about it; I will never order calamari again. It’s cooked exceptionally, with seasoning such that one barely needs the accompanying sour chilli dip it comes with.
Vietnamese food may now be as popular as its Asian neighbours, the novelty of its flavours and French influences now commonplace, but than can be said about any cuisine when one encounters somewhere that does it exceptionally well. And that was manifest in the pho that came next.
Like the video, the dry ingredients appear in an ornately decorated bowl, and then from an old enamel teapot the broth is poured – ‘ex-it light, en-ter ni-ii-ight’ echoes in my head – before the herbs are torn and fresh chilis added, then it’s mixed and presented. A bowl might be a significant meal on its own, but it can also be shared, and that almost makes one appreciate it more. I’ve had countless pho over the years, many overpriced watery soups across the capital, but this is what it should taste like; earthy yet subtle, hints of cinnamon and star anise, with a depth that can only come from it being slow-cooked, layers of flavour infused over time, like an aged whisky. Add to that the fresh tones of the herbs, lime, chilli, not to mention the smokiness from the truffle, and what you have is pleasure in bowl.
To follow that, a coffee from a copper filter accompanies lightly battered banana fritters and, as Django Reinhardt twangs away at his gipsy guitar over the stereo, I’m loving that I’ve just discovered my definitive Vietnamese establishment.
The idiom about judging a book by its cover is never more applicable than in the restaurant world; I have eaten some downright awful things on white tablecloths and silver service, and had some of the best meals of my life in spit-and-sawdust dives in dodgy backstreets. But I would argue Med Salleh Viet falls into a category all on its own. Authentic street food? Certainly. Served unconventionally? Yes’um. From a most unlikely location? Indeed. But worthy of a place in your little black book? 100%.
Med Salleh Viet, 32-36 Hogarth Road, London, SW5 0PU. For more information, and a look at that social-media-defying video, please visit www.medsalleh.co.uk.
