Dining Out: French Vietnamese

Found a Cool French Vietnamese Place in Salt Lake.

Oh Mai.

I read about it in a local magazine. Traditionally, northern Utah’s cuisine tends to be…well, sustaining. Comfortable. Buffalo steaks, great slabs of heavily frosted carrot cake, fried pickles, and Aunt Mable’s dinner rolls (which are truly delectable by the way, and addictive) have long endured as the most exciting culinary developments. Revolutionaries go for American Chinese, or The Olive Garden. But I understand that there is a growing movement amongst some restauranteurs here and there: they are becoming more adventuresome. Using fresh, local produce, and faraway concepts. Cooperating a bit with each other to get their hands on really great ingredients.  Creating less-conventional establishments.  Oh Mai was touted as just such a one. So it went on my restaurant fantasy list.

First Maurya, Melody, and Marissa (the m&m&m’s) tried it on a girl’s day out.  They raved.  A reliable review.  Each of the m’s, in her own way, is a food snob.  If you can be a food snob and still be a nice person (it can happen to anyone, really).

With rave reviews from the m&m&m’s, we had to try it ourselves (Frank and I, and any victims we could tow along with us).  Turns out there are two Oh Mai’s in Salt Lake…it must be a chain (both Oh Mai’s are French Vietnamese restaurants…Salt Lake isn’t quite big enough for that epic of a coincidence).   Frank and I drove separate cars (long story, which involved conflicting schedules, which happens the minute your group exceeds one).   And this is how I know there are two different Oh Mai’s.  After losing Frank twice at ambush-and-tackle exits,  I took my chances with my own digital/global map thing (Maurya as co-pilot/interpreter).  And landed at the other Oh Mai. But eventually,  we made our way back to the rest of the party.  And settled in, ordered, and ate.

Mmmm (4 m’s).

The food was unpretentiously delicious.  Moderately adventuresome (I vote for just a little more veggies and spice). And the bistro/cafe setting was…inviting. Relaxed, with a hint of tropics, a hint of Asia. E.B. White, travel worn (his Alaskan deep sea adventure having veered off to Europe by way of Vietnam), lands in a forgotten French cafe hung with colanders-as-light-fixtures, where he is left alone with his thoughts since no one realizes he’s…like…the world’s greatest essayist (he’s still in his 20’s, that’s why). The pretty girl with long hair, reading a book, has no idea. She sips from a paper cup and nibbles something with cilantro and chilis in it.

Besides Frank and I, Maurya still loved the food. Meisha liked it well enough to finish. But the rest of our victims (my in-laws, Nora, and a very small niece) were more conservative in their approval.  I’m not sure they liked it…but that’s ok.  Frank and I will end up there again one day soon…and hopefully, we’ll arrive together.