Steak at Pho Kita. | Ben Coleman Pho Kita’s little dining room has become an unlikely dining scene hotspot It’s 4:57 p.m., a few minutes before open, and a family of regulars have posted up at the door of Pho Kita. A young couple joins the line, and another family shortl y after. By 5:10 p.m. about six of the dozen tables have occupants and servers in practical black sweatshirts are starting to put out reserved placards on the remaining ones. By 5:20 p.m., the small space is filled with the low murmur of a dozen dates, family gatherings, and early business dinners. Already, it’s another humming night for Portland’s unlikeliest destination steakhouse. From the outside the restaurant doesn’t look like much, just a typical strip mall Vietnamese place sandwiched between a Grocery Outlet and a Mazatlan on a nondescript stretch of Northwest 185th. But the slim menu isn’t all that typical: It’s mostly steak, potatoes, ribs and pho, without traditional Vietnamese staples like banh mi or banh cuon. If you’ve heard of Pho Kita it’s likely because it recently landed at number seven on Yelp’s list of the best steakhouses in the country, beating out more well-known places like Ringside and Jake’s. So what’s the hype about? It’s probably not the nondescript address or the prices, which are comparable with other steakhouses in the area (the entry-level bone-in New York steak goes for $38, for example). But Portlanders are drawn to the unique, and there’s something about Midwestern steakhouse classics run through the filter of Vietnamese home-cooking that seems to be resonating. It also helps that the food is just really damn good. Ribs come out of the tiny kitchen like they’ve been resting in a low oven all week, and the high-end cuts of steak are expertly seared on the outside and luxuriously rare within. And, oh, what steaks they are: perfectly tender, pliant on the fork, and infused with the subtle sweetness of lemongrass. “Medium rare” can mean a lot of things in Portland — sometimes just the barest whisps of pale pink — but the standard here is a decadent magenta. Purists will say that the only thing that belongs on steak is salt, pepper, and high heat, but a glistening ribeye with the Pho Kita treatment represents a compelling argument against that school of thought. Pho Kita The ribs at Pho Kita. Ben Coleman Chinh Hoang and Helen Phan (center) and their daughters. It’s in many ways a classic family restaurant, but owners Chinh Hoang and Helen Phan aren’t industry lifers. “I grew up in Vancouver, Washington,” says Hoang. “When I graduated I went to work for Intel for a few years. With the dot-com bust I became a contractor.” His culinary experience wasn’t back of house, it was back of yard: manning the grill for twice-weekly family dinners at their home in Hillsboro. “Big family,” he says with a wan smile. “And we have a lot of friends over. You know, 40 to 50 at a time.” His approach to steak, honed over decades of big gatherings and an engineer’s inclination to tinker, involves pre-aged beef and a long marinade that imparts some of the subtle sweetness often found in Vietnamese cooking. “They all said, ‘Hey, you should open a restaurant.’ And then I did, and now they don’t show up because it’s not free anymore,” he says. “He’s joking,” Phan interjects. Phan stayed in tech: 24 years at Intel, and four years at a startup where she still works. “Daytime I’m in the industry, nighttime I’m here,” she says. Phan says her jet-setting responsibilities at the Hillsboro microchip giant gave her an appreciation for fine cuisine: “When I came home and had my husband’s steak, I was always like, ‘I just ate at the best steakhouse in San Francisco or Switzerland or Portugal or whatever, and your steak competes.’” Hoang and Phan are first generation, but just barely. “We’re about as native as it gets,” Phan says. “We both came to the US in ‘75, so we’ve been here a long time. I went to elementary school [in Portland] and we both went to local colleges. He’s PSU and I’m a Duck.” Their daughter Aislynn darts through the increasingly crowded space on chunky Doc Martens. Every arriving guest gets her rapid-fire hype reel of the restaurant’s origins, the magical qualities of her dad’s signature marinade, and what goes best with what. She’s got patter for pretty much everything on the menu: What inspired her dad to make it, how her mom likes it cooked, or how often it was served at family dinners. “I ate this every day, growing up,” she says. “I thought everyone ate like this.” The regulars seem to have developed an appreciation for this high-speed approach. “I’ve been here before but I want the spiel,” says one of the business dinner guys. Their younger daughter Kira (her nickname “Kita” is the restaurant’s namesake) runs plates more often than she seats guests, but she’s the face of the restaurant’s social media. “It gets me out of my comfort zone, because, you know, she’s the more outgoing one,” Kira says, gesturing to her sister. “It’s so cute to see,” Aislynn replies. “I used to have to order food for when you went to restaurants. You would be so shy.” “Fusion” is a four-letter word in some culinary circles, and it can often get assigned to gimmicky mashups that can potentially devalue or dilute the intricate preparations of traditional foodways. But the fusion at Pho Kita works for the same reason a lot of truly American innovations do: Each component part works well, and combined, they sing. ...read more read less