RESTAURANTS : Non-Traditional Treatment of a Vietnamese Tradition

“Beef is the soul of cookery,” wrote Jean Anthelme Brillat-Savarin, the celebrated 19th-Century gastronome who is generally considered the father of modern food writing. Even today, his major work, “The Physiology of Taste,” is a sacred text to many serious eaters. That knowledge should be a comfort to beleaguered beef lovers, who have, of late, been forced to defend their passion against an onslaught of disapproval from the negative nabobs of nutrition. What do they know, anyway?

The health experts might sing a different tune were they to visit Anh Hong, a small Vietnamese restaurant in a Garden Grove mini-mall. Anh Hong specializes in bo 7 mon , seven courses of beef dishes using Vietnamese flavors and pan-Asian cooking techniques. The result is pure serendipity, a totally original treatment with tastes and textures capturing the essence of such faraway places as China, France, Thailand, and even Yugoslavia. It’s a fascinating tour de force.

Beef has long been a part of the Vietnamese cooking tradition, but this unique menu is strictly non-traditional. It was developed by the Le family of Saigon during the early ‘50s, and their success was instantaneous. When the Thieu government fell in the mid-’70s, the family fled Vietnam, bringing their business along with them. Saigon’s loss is our gain.

As with most low-priced Asian restaurants, you don’t rush over for the elegant appointments. Tables are white Formica with blue paper place mats. Chairs are simple and straight. Anh Hong does make a few budget attempts at atmosphere, but one can’t help wish they hadn’t bothered. High-tech lighting is bright and razzy, and the management has filled a few dividers with plants. Pictures of flowers hang on the walls. “Feelings” was actually playing on the Muzak when I was being seated. Charming, it’s not.

That objection seems petty, though, when weighed against the warm service and excellent cooking that the restaurant features. Waiters step you through each phase of the dinner carefully, explaining how each course should be eaten and solicitously assisting you with the proper combinations of sauces and condiments. The first course, goi bo , is a special beef salad with shredded carrot, leafy cilantro, white radish, onion, crushed peanut and a pile of barbecued beef. The waiter will fill your tiny, individual sauce bowl with nuoc cham , a sweet vinegar sauce, and demonstrate how to spoon it on the salad. After that, you’re on your own.

Course No. 2 is the most complicated of the seven and requires a little effort. A fondue pot containing vinegar and oil is brought out, accompanied by slices of beef resembling carpaccio , fragrant rice paper crepes and assorted raw vegetables such as cucumber, bean sprouts and leafy greens. Using chopsticks, you plunge the beef into the boiling caldron, and after cooking, you wrap it in the crepe. The idea is to combine the vegetables with mam nem , an anchovy sauce flavored with lemon grass, and stuff that into the crepe as well. It’s my favorite of all the courses and, take note, the most nutritious.

Next is cha dum , a steamed meatball similar to “lion’s head” of Chinese cuisine but far more complex and subtly flavored. The dish has the body of a finely minced terrine and gets much of its substance from the clear noodles and chopped tree ear mushrooms that go into its preparation. It’s served with crispy, golden rice crackers made with coconut milk. They are used, the waiter explained, to scoop up a portion of the meatball. It’s all so light that it’s easy to find yourself eating far too much of it, so pace yourself.

Course No. 4, bo nuong mo chai , astonished me. It’s a virtual double for cevapcici , those bite-size Yugoslavian sausages so popular in Balkan pubs. These sausages are charcoal-broiled and sprinkled liberally with garlic; they make the ideal companion for cold beer.

Now you’re given bo nuong la lot , beef wrapped in Hawaiian lot leaf. The exact flavor eludes description; it’s sweet and pungent, with medicinal overtones. Chances are you’ll love it or hate it. I loved it.

The waiter was downright apologetic when he put down the next course. “Only two more to go,” he said gently, knowing we were being stretched a bit. He set down a portable Japanese grill, (one of the black iron ones shaped like a hand juicer) and more sliced beef, this time soaked in oil and glistening with spices. “This you grill,” he instructed, “along with lemon grass and onion.” By this time, I was cooking for my next day’s lunch, intending to pack up as much as I could. The idea of eating any more seemed entirely remote. But I had forgotten something. There was still one course to go.

The Italians begin their meals with soup, and the Vietnamese end theirs with it. I can’t think of a better ending. Chao bo , a flavorful rice soup filled with chopped beef and toasted onions may sound mundane, but I assure you it’s most ethereal. I ate two bowls, proud of my new-found strength, and then said a prayer of thanks that there were no more courses. By this time, frankly, I wasn’t sure.

Silly as it may sound, there are desserts. Anh Hong has the usual selection of fruits in syrup, longans, litchis and the like, and there is even banh flan , a creme caramel that would have pleased Brillat-Savarin himself. They should offer them free to anybody who can eat them. I didn’t even try.

The price for this feast is the best part, a mere $9.95 per person, available for one person on up. You could order the various courses a la carte, but it doesn’t seem like a good idea because they are expensive that way. (For example, the fondue is $7, and the beef wrapped in lot leaf $6.50). Desserts are from $1.00 to $1.50.

ANH HONG 10195 Westminster Ave., Garden Grove

(714) 537-5230

Open seven days, Monday-Thursday, 3 to 10 p.m.; Friday and Saturday, 11 a.m. to 10:30 p.m.