photograph by anna traverse
On Christmas Eve I was in the kitchen — waiting for lemon shortbread to cool enough to slice — when I opened my phone and gasped. A friend’s Instagram Story showed her final haul of tofu from Pho Binh, the much beloved Midtown Vietnamese restaurant, purveyor of ethereally bright, chewy little pillows of lemongrass tofu among many, many other delights. “Final haul” because (oh no) that very day was Pho Binh’s last, ever.
I thought I must have misinterpreted — maybe the family behind this family restaurant were simply taking a hiatus, and would return in the new year? (No.) Was it too late to call in an order for ten helpings each of lemongrass tofu and green-bean tofu and (aptly named) wonderful tofu, add broccoli? (Yes.)
A quick internet search confirmed that the very good people who owned and operated the perfectly tucked-away joint on Madison those last 23 years had chosen to move on. (A new restaurant with new owners will open in its place, with some of the old recipes still on the menu. Stay tuned.)
Pho Binh was exactly what it was always supposed to be. I own not one, but two T-shirts emblazoned with their logo (in two different colors, thank you very much) and a slogan that will make me smile until the fabric disintegrates: “Memphis-style tofu.”
Pho Binh was a family affair through and through. The recipes and much of the cooking came from “Momma.” The middle generation brought fresh, beautifully aromatic food from the kitchen with smiles and thanks; kids did their homework on a table off to one side. With Formica faux-wood tables and delightfully mismatched mugs for steaming jasmine tea, there was nothing fancy, no white tablecloths and frills. The fluorescent glow of the dining room stood between a laundromat and a headshop; regulars knew to avoid the parking lot’s potholes.
And it was, in a word, perfect — Pho Binh was exactly what it was always supposed to be. I own not one, but two T-shirts emblazoned with their logo (in two different colors, thank you very much) and a slogan that will make me smile until the fabric disintegrates: “Memphis-style tofu.”
That’s exactly what it was: Memphis-style. Oh, sure, if you ask ten people to name ten foods that Memphis is known for, the word “tofu” is unlikely to appear once among the barbecue-this and barbecue-that. Probably I have used the word “tofu” more times in this column than appeared previously in the entire history of Memphis Magazine. But Memphians adored Pho Binh. When family members suffered health scares over the years, forcing the doors closed temporarily, social-media updates from the Pho Binh account would garner hundreds and hundreds of well-wishes. You never knew whom you would bump into there — a friend from grade school, or a local celebrity, or your boss.
In recent years, Pho Binh evolved to suit a crowd more inclined toward carry-out. After the pandemic, they never did bring back dine-in service, or the lunchtime buffet. To me, none of that mattered, so long as I could still bring home my Memphis-style tofu with a warm smile alongside.
After 23 years, the family said when they confirmed the closure, their matriarch — “whose will alone often overpowered her health,” they wrote — needed a rest. But — as I saw once I stopped sniffling in my kitchen — what a beautiful story was spun in those years. Restaurants don’t last forever. This one turned the final page with a swell of love: We should all be so lucky.
Just as one story ends, many more are born. Pause to lovingly mourn the eateries that have shut their doors. Then celebrate those that have opened for the first time. Starting a restaurant is a bold decision under any circumstances, and the past few years’ circumstances have been especially hard on restaurants. Yet, undaunted, folks here keep coming up with new ideas anyway. Maybe they’re a little crazy. I wouldn’t really know; I work in print media, in 2024, on purpose (!).
Crazy or not, the newcomers and the old-reliables alike are putting their Memphis spin on just about any food you can name, and to delicious effect. As we do every February, this month we are saluting the best and most beloved of local restaurants: Find out which favorites were victorious in the annual Readers’ Restaurant Poll, and let our writers be your guides to eight standout new spots. Wherever your next meal takes you, remember to tip well and come back often. I always felt welcome at Pho Binh — welcome in a genuine, human way — and more than any favorite dish, that was pure Memphis magic.
