Silent Treatment

Silent H 79 Berry St. (at N. 9th St.) Williamsburg, B'klyn 718-218-7063

Since settling in this eat-me-alive town, I’ve eaten most meals in New York’s myriad Chinatowns: Sunset Park, Flushing and, of course, the tourist-ridden grandpappy on Canal Street, where I developed a taste for bootleg DVDs and Vietnamese vittles. Cool spring rolls, crispy toasted bánh mì and lakes of pho—the fragrant noodle soup earned my love with their reliance on fresh herbs and teensy Chinatown cost. Ten bucks bought a pleasantly distended stomach.

But departing Chinatown bursts the low-cost bubble. At Hanoi-centric spots like Mai House and Bao 111, prices punch through the double-digit barrier. Does cost equal quality, or just artfully plated hooey? The question lolled through my skull as I pedaled to Williamsburg’s Silent H. It’s located on a quiet North 9th block inside former brunch-fave Oznot’s Dish. The environs are open and airy, with a clutch of tables, black-and-white photographs and a lime-color countertop with chairs so tall an enterprising jockey could file a discrimination lawsuit. Muted indie rock wafted through the air, a refreshing counterpoint to the average atmosphere-deficient Asian restaurant. Tonight’s dining accomplice was my girlfriend, a rarity given her no-meat-except-fish diet. However, Silent H is suited to her persnickety palate. Most entrees may be substituted with—the horror—tofu.

“Uh, we’re in Williamsburg, remember,” she said, as we sat down and cracked beers. Silent H remains BYOB. This is a beautiful, beautiful thing. Not so beautiful? The lack of pho. It’s everywhere, reasoned owner Vinh Nguyen (don’t pronounce his name’s silent h), so why serve it here? That’s crazy-making logic, just like the toasted bánh mì (served on fluffy Polish rolls, instead of crisp baguettes) being lunchtime-only treats. The classic ($5.50) is top-drawer quality, packed with carrots, daikon, cilantro, jalapeño, pâté and albino pork salami. Meat freaks might fancy the Greenpoint ($6.50), substituting kielbasa, while vegans chomp one weighted with mushrooms ($5.50). Welcome to your new Williamsburg lunch spot.

Dinnertime’s another tale. This eve, we’re joined by dating couples and vintage-garbed parents feeding babies. A genial, efficient waiter scribbled our order, and our appetizers soon arrived in rat-a-tat-tat succession. The lemongrass shrimp balls ($6) were several gob-stopping orbs of “broken rice” sprinkled with the citrus herb and, supposedly, filled with cured shrimp. Their flavor was as nonexistent as my dignity after drinking tequila.

“Sweetheart, you’re shrimp enough for me,” my girlfriend said, a sweetly emasculating term of endearment.

I turned my carnivorous attention to blistering, air-dried beef capriccio ($9).

“Have your water ready,” the menu warned.

I grabbed my glass, then speared an arterial-red beef cylinder. Grinding the raw meat between my molars released a killer roundhouse kick of chili, cilantro and lime. The flavors simultaneously cooled and burned, though black pepper partied too long in my throat.

“Drink your water, sweetheart,” my girlfriend said. Was she concerned? No, she was eager to eat the bruschetta-like toasts ($5). Crisp bread is painted with whipped taro-and-mung-bean puree, then stuffed with mushrooms or shrimp and broiled until it’s the color of the Coppertone baby. The toast’s a tad salty, leavened out by a dunk in the pungent nuoc cham sauce. That sauce couldn’t remedy my lady’s dinner. Whereas the caramelized black-peppercorn pork chop ($15.50) is an interplay of flavors, the juicy meat neutralized by the peppery punch, the tofu ($12.50) is as out of place as Fred Thompson stumping for president. The tofu cubes were remarkably crunchy, but they drowned beneath the viscous, unnecessarily piquant glaze.

My banh xeo—a traditional half-moon crepe—overflowed with lackluster ground pork, shrimp and pork belly ($12.50). The chili-coconut glaze was too weak a salvation, leaving the dish little more than jazzed-up brunch food.

I sighed, as my girlfriend nabbed one final pink blob of shrimp. I let her have it without fuss. I needed to save space for dinner in Chinatown tomorrow.