Flowers of Vietnam

I walk into a small room and lock the door behind me. The lights go out, I hear a hum, and a slide show begins to shuffle across the floor from a projector hidden in the ceiling. Wth? Did I make a wrong turn? Did I accidentally stumble into Erebus? Nope. I’m in the can at Flowers of Vietnam. 


A few moments before, I was crashing into a flower box, squeezing my Dodge Ram into a spot made for a compact car. The box, and now my truck, are parked on what used to be Carnival Bar, when I was a kid. I threw the bucket in park and ran inside, holding the urge for over an hour, now searching for the restroom. That’s when I walked in on the slide show. 


I do my business, hurry up, and get out. 


Coming out to the dining room, a table awaits, jammed with 14 people pouring over the menu. Drinks are ordered, dishes are ordered, plates for sharing are distributed. Now we wait. 


Flowers is located on Vernor Avenue at Clark Street on the southwest side of Detroit, kitty-corner from the park. It’s nestled into the old Vernor Coney Island which used to serve up the typical fare more familiar to these parts: breakfast, lunch, and things smothered in chili. But Flowers of Vietnam is taking this building, and this neighborhood, and thrusting it into completely new territory. The hipster patrons, the Vietnamese cuisine, and the eclectic vibe leave the street-food, Latin scene behind, and project this eatery experience into a new and fresh and challenging place; it’s a Vietnamese version of Small Plates. It’s exciting. It’s different. 


The food. 


The Cha Ngu Sac—Papaya salad—was citrusy, fruity, and fresh. Jalapeño discs added a spicy layer. I also tried a dish that was salmon steamed in banana leaves-very succulent and tender. One of the few dishes I enjoyed. The Goi Tom Hum Xao—Lobster and vermicelli—was a better dish. The lobster was in small, tender, bite-size pieces. Rice noodles, like angel hair, were the backdrop. It was flavorful, full of aromatics provided by a sugar palm vinaigrette. Beautifully presented, full of color. The dish was interesting enough, but there wasn’t much to share. 


Then there were the Caramel Wings—caramel coated, very sticky, great flavor and texture—sweet, crunchy, and spicy. These wings would be more aptly described as “candied.” The staff offers a set of warm towels to help with clean-up. One of the best dishes at Flowers. 





More food. 


Someone was already posting pics of our meal on FB. A friend commented, “Where’s my invite?” I responded, “You’re invited to see if my truck is still sitting in the parking lot.” This is the Big SO after all, and no matter how many hipsters on parade come traipsing through from Corktown, or ride around on mountain bikes, there’s a chance some wayward southwest riffraff will get down on your Tonneau cover. This homeboy grew up in the 90’s when you kept one eye on your beeper, and the other on your chrome rims. And those old habits die hard. But I digress. 


Thit Kho is a clay pot of pork belly—very tender pieces of pork belly, stewed in quail egg and coconut. Nice textures, but not tasty. No definable flavor. The fried rice is as you’d expect: tasty, small peas, rich, familiar flavor. The winter rolls you wrap yourself, with paper-thin rice wrappers, plus fixins like bean sprouts and greens. For me, it’s whatever. I’m partial to an egg roll: stuffed, fried, crisp. 


The Chuoi Nuong—Banana dessert—was bananas coated in black, charred, sticky rice, garnished with banana leaves. I took the dish and passed it along. Another dessert, Banh Pandan—Japanese cake dessert—had a cake with a mildly sweet flavor, spongy texture, reminiscent of a green pancake. It paired well with ice cream, mostly because everything pairs well with ice cream. The Pho with meatballs: from its entrail-flavored balls with rubbery consistency, to its bland broth, this soup was not good. At all. 


Elements of the braised beef and the ribs were tasty and succulent, but still weren’t as satisfying as I’d hoped. 


One drink I tried—Al Pastor—was a concoction made with mezcal, fitted with a charred pineapple. Not good. Not even palatable. If I had my eyes closed I couldn’t decipher the drink from a glass of thinned 10W-40 garnished with a hunk of radial tire. I’m not kidding; it tasted like motor oil. Okay, maybe mezcal just isn’t my thing. 


Give me something good, take my money! 


I wanted to be floored. I wanted to be amazed. Unlike some trendy millennial with upstart funding loaded in his Apple Pay, I’ve got an old-school debit card that’s running on fumes ‘til Friday. So if I spend money at a restaurant, I’m less than thrilled when it doesn’t impress. 


I get it: this is Vietnamese food, not typical Asian fare. But my tastebuds are searching for something they can appreciate—a familiar flavor, heartiness, texture. That’s difficult to find here, and with the small servings, it’s even more difficult to hang-on to. 


Wait. Am I going out on a limb here to say I don’t give a DAMN about “authenticity”? I find myself saying this often: if a dish tastes good, I don’t care who else has eaten it, what region it came from, or if anyone agrees with the culinary pedigree, ingredients, method. For example, when I’m at a hibachi place, I don’t think “this isn’t real Japanese food,” I’m like “don’t be shy with the garlic butter, Wilson!” because it’s delicious. This happened once: an Asian chef at Benihana, between flipping shrimp tails into his hat and making an onion choo-choo, leans over and whispers “This isn’t real Japanese food. You think they eat this in Japan?!” Guess what?! I don’t give a damn, Coo! Crank it up! 


Conclusion.


There was an article, recently, that named this place one of the best new restaurants in Detroit. I have to give it up for service; it was excellent. We never had to ask for water, or napkins, or refills. The staff was friendly, the hostesses were courteous and lively. And the interior, with exposed cinderblocks, convivial bar, and upbeat music, definitely made the restaurant feel “trendy.” The Tiger beer was great. 


But that’s where my adoration came to a halt. Most of the dishes, save for the wings and lobster, left me unsatisfied. There was a lot of fuss, and a lot of pomp, and a lot of effort invested into these dishes. You can really feel that in every dish. I appreciate that because I respect what the owner of Flowers of Vietnam and his people are creating. I want to be part of that experience, especially here, in the city I call home. Every dish was beautiful, but left something to be desired. 


I’d still like to come back and try the Ca Chien Sot Ca (whole fried fish), the prawns, the Tom Cam broken rice dish, and that egg cream coffee everyone posts pics of. Currently, the menu is being updated so I may not have a chance. I really wanted to find something that blew me away at FoV, so that I’d have another favorite place to visit in my hometown. Flowers is definitely worth a visit if you want to try something new, but for me, it didn’t create a craving for its offerings. 

Comments

Popular Posts