I quickly dug out my credit card: No way did I want to hurt my chances of returning to New Saigon. This restaurant may have one of the strangest servers in the world, but I don't go to New Saigon for the service. I go for the incredible food.
Thai Nguyen and his wife, Ha Pham, who does the cooking, bought this restaurant in 1987 from the owners who'd opened New Saigon two years earlier. It's not the oldest Vietnamese spot in Denver — that designation belongs to T-Wa Inn, which beat New Saigon by just a year and is only a block away on Federal Boulevard — but it's aged well, as long as you're not judging things by appearances. The space is wide, dark and slightly cramped, divided at the entry into two distinct parts, the result of an early expansion. It's filled with furniture that's seen better days, and there's not so much a decor scheme as a random collection of stuff that looks like it was stuck on the walls over the years. I loved New Saigon from the first time I ate there, nearly a decade ago. But after visiting Vietnam, I gained a new appreciation for it. While Denver has dozens of ridiculously good pho shops, here you can taste the full spectrum of that country's culinary canon. And I mean full: It might take a lifetime to eat your way through New Saigon's massive menu — and no matter what you order, it's likely to be on par with what you'll find on the streets and in the restaurants of Vietnam, one of the best countries in the entire world for eating. But there's a critical difference: While many of the eateries in that country focus on just one or two specialties, New Saigon features dozens.
Mark Manger
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New Saigon
Sai Gon Dac Biet $39.95
Tom kho tieu broccoli $12.95
Bun cha gio thit nuong $7.95
Ech rang muoi $15.95
Spring roll $1.50
630 South Federal Boulevard
303-936-4954
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On a recent visit, I discovered a convenient way to sample much of what the kitchen has to offer: the rice paper wraps. This dish was suggested by my server, who was helpful in all of the ways that our earlier server was not. He listened carefully as my friend and I ordered, then asked if we'd rather try rice paper wraps instead, noting we'd get the noodles, spring rolls, grilled pork and soft-shell crabs we craved — plus much more — for about the same price we were about to drop on the collection of dishes we'd put together. We agreed to go for 1RW, the Sai Gon Dac Biet, and he began readying our table: dropping off a giant plate of lettuce leaves, basil, cilantro and pickled cucumbers and carrots, as well as a bowl of hot water and a dish stacked with rounds of brittle, translucent rice paper. "Keep this plate on top of the stack," he advised. "Otherwise, the papers will break."
Seconds later, he was back with a platter nearly the size of our table. Battered and fried soft-shell crabs glistened greasily in one section; I couldn't resist grabbing a bite, letting the savory crunch give way to the sweet meat inside. Strips of sweet, garlicky grilled pork filled another wedge. There were also piles of grilled shrimp and long, thin, crispy pork egg rolls; a mound of shrimp paste, a sort of grilled patty made from ground prawns and pepper; a bed of vermicelli noodles. The idea, our server explained, was to dip a rice paper in the hot water until it softened, then load it with whatever we wanted, rolling it like a burrito and dunking it in the scallion-spiked, sweet, vinegary sauce served on the side. We were creating our own spring rolls — but these were much better than the spring rolls I've ordered at the start of every Vietnamese meal for as long as I can remember. Even the regular spring rolls at New Saigon.
It also made for an extremely social way to eat lunch. We spent about an hour and a half rolling up bundles of odds and ends and eating roll after roll until we could no longer form intelligent sentences because all the blood from our brains had gone to our stomachs.
When our server dropped off the check, we assured him he'd made an excellent recommendation. "No rush," he told us.
Because after 25 years in very good hands, New Saigon isn't going anywhere.
More photos: In the kitchen at New Saigon