Few dishes better capture Houston’s spirit than a steaming bowl of pho. The iconic Vietnamese noodle soup is as much a staple as smoky brisket or gooey queso. It’s an essential dish woven into the fabric of the Bayou City. Houstonians eat pho for breakfast as eagerly as they do past midnight, in suburban strip mall restaurants and banquet halls and at backyard pop-ups.
A classic preparation of pho begins with a clear, deeply savory broth poured over springy rice noodles, topped with slices of rare beef, brisket, or tendon. On the side there’s usually a platter of bean sprouts, Thai basil, and lime wedges for customizing each bite. While the dish’s origins are murky, it’s generally believed to have roots in northern Vietnam. Pho bo, or beef pho, is the most common version of the soup, but it varies from north to south: In Hanoi the recipe calls for a minimalist broth with a whisper of star anise and cinnamon, while the version in Saigon is often sweeter and served with more garnishes.
No matter the variations, pho in America serves as a connection to home for the Vietnamese diaspora. In Houston, home to one of the largest Vietnamese communities stateside, second- and third-generation cooks embrace tradition and experimentation with equal enthusiasm. Some restaurants only sell pho ga, a lighter riff using chicken, while others incorporate barbecue and other modern innovations to create distinctly Houstonian spins on the dish.
As award-winning food writer Andrea Nguyen wrote in The Pho Cookbook, the national dish of Vietnam “is about tradition as much as it is about change.” Nowhere is this more true than in Houston.
Hương Sen
A handful of Houston’s pho-centric restaurants serve vegetarian versions of Vietnam’s national dish, but few places reach the same standard as chef-owner Tien Huynh’s Asiatown restaurant. Huynh, a devout Buddhist, opened Hương Sen in 2019 so patrons could enjoy a vegetarian meal in a Zen-like room. Here you’re surrounded by customers that include monks from local temples in a serene dining room filled with bamboo, lotus-shaped light fixtures, and statues of the Buddha. Almost everyone orders the pho. This meat-free recipe comes to life with tofu, faux ham, and all the usual herbs. The amber-colored mushroom-based broth carries the gentle sweetness of star anise. It’s more layered and complex than many beef versions that simmer for hours.
Phở Sapa
If there’s one restaurant capable of hushing any disagreement about where to find the best pho in Houston, it’s this spot tucked into a shopping plaza in Asiatown (Chinatown, to many locals). Owner Hien Luu’s family started the restaurant in 2005, focused on serving a pork-based noodle soup, before she took over and began focusing on pho. The scent of fragrant broth wafts from the kitchen into the bright dining room. An array of soups includes the typical pho dac biet, a combination bowl including steak, tendon, and tripe, and less common ones like the aromatic ginger-infused pho tai gung. Regardless of the soup, the restaurant’s fresh noodles shine. These thin, soft yet resilient strands made from rice flour set every bowl apart.
Khói Barbecue
At his pop-up restaurant, Don Nguyen reimagines Texas-style barbecue with global influences. His concept started as a way to explore his Vietnamese heritage, and he doles out hits like sausage links inspired by bo la lot (grilled beef wrapped in lolot leaves) to a parade of enthusiastic diners. Barbecue shows up in velvety curries and garlic fried rice. His pho stands out with its beefy broth, layered with smoke from the charred aromatics and fall-apart brisket. Some customers order ahead online while others line the sidewalk outside a home in the Near Northside where Nguyen sets up on weekends. Picnic tables are in place to slurp down those deeply satisfying bowls—even during a Houston heat wave. The pho embodies the spirit of khói, which means “smoke” in Vietnamese: a culinary venture at once unapologetically Vietnamese and Texan.
Moon Rabbit
At Moon Rabbit, banh xeo, a crisp crepe filled with shrimp, pork belly, and coconut cream, is presented as a tostada. An espresso martini takes on the bold profile of robusta beans typically used in ca phe sua da. But when it comes to pho, co-chefs Tam Nguyen (whose family also ran a Vietnamese restaurant for nearly three decades) and Rudy Vasquez honor tradition at this modern Vietnamese restaurant in Houston’s Heights neighborhood. Whether it’s the pho dac biet or pho tai chin, which includes lean tenderloin and supple brisket, the aromatic broth is subtle in its layers of spice. No bottles of sweet hoisin and spicy sriracha anchor the table. Staffers will insist with a smile that the broth doesn’t really need it.
Ði Ӑn Phơ
This newly opened pho shop has a more modern feel than many of its well-established Asiatown neighbors. The dining room features rattan-style lighting and a wall lined with coffee, fish sauce, and sriracha. A short menu focuses solely on pho. You can often watch 70-year-old chef Hung Van Tran ladling shimmering golden broth into bowls from the open kitchen. A server will proudly tell you that the beef bones simmer overnight, leaving barely a trace of fat. The chicken version, pho ga, shows off a consommé-like base with a gingery kick. Tran inspects each bowl before it arrives at your table. Every detail feels intentional, not just in the fresh ingredients, but in thoughtful touches like letting diners take home a handsome pair of wooden chopsticks after their meal.
Cơm Gà Thượng Hải
4010 North Sam Houston Pkwy. W.
Between a tangle of freeway overpasses, next to a gas station, is one of the few Vietnamese restaurants in Houston specializing in poultry. Diana Ho, who immigrated to the US in 1998, says her love for Vietnam’s chicken dishes inspired her to open the North Houston restaurant with business partner Khoa Nguyen. They feature chicken and duck in overflowing rice plates, congee, and banana flower salads. Besides an order of shaking beef, there’s no pork or seafood to be found. Pho ga arrives as a crystal clear broth cradling a mound of rice noodles and gently poached chicken. The meat is shredded into paper-thin wisps that float on the surface like confetti. It may not be as popular as pho bo, but this light soup is just as satisfying.
Phơ Prime
Multiple locations
Kiet Duong and Julie Nguyen built a following with the success of their Viet-Cajun restaurant Crawfish Cafe. At their two locations of Phơ Prime, they continue to pay tribute to Texas-inspired flavors. Of their nearly two dozen variations of pho, two protein-packed servings in metal bowls steal the spotlight: The Cowboy includes slices of smoked brisket, Fred Flintstone–size short ribs, and bouncy meatballs. For the Prime, they throw in a marrowbone that amps up the bold and beefy flavor of the soup. Families share these bowls in the sleek, plant-lined dining room on the other side of an open kitchen where cooks assemble each order. It’s equal parts Vietnamese comfort food and Lone Star spectacle.
Ong Jas Viet Kitchen
Chef Jas Phan, who also runs Migo Saigon Street Food in Asiatown with his wife, Thanh Nguyen, brings theatrical flair to pho. He serves his steaming, fragrant soups in dramatically sizzling stone bowls. Wisps of steam add to the ambiance of the colorful dining room lined with communal tables and hanging fish sculptures. Each volcanic bowl arrives bubbling furiously. The noodles, filet mignon, brisket, meatballs, and herbs are served on the side. Diners can add the ingredients all at once or little by little—so the noodles don’t get soggy and the meat cooks just so. This pho has gone viral online, rightfully wooing diners while honoring its Vietnamese roots.