By Tom Sietsema
Washington Post Staff Writer
Sunday, Oct. 18, 2009

Dining at family-run Four Sisters without one of them in evidence is like attending a Broadway hit without benefit of the star. The performance just isn't the same. Over the years, in both the original and relocated Falls Church Vietnamese restaurants, I've come to rely on Le Lai and Lieu Lai, two of the tribe, to steer me to choice directions on the epic menu. And over the years, my trust has been rewarded with such winners as the baby clams with chopped pork, the caramelized pork ribs and the roasted quail. Left to my own devices on my last visit, I scored with a soup of snowy catfish, crisp okra, juicy pineapple and tangy-sweet tamarind broth, and with "shaky beef": sauteed onions and bites of meat that get a kick from a dip of lime and pepper. Both dishes got nods from my waiter when I ordered them. But I couldn't help but think a sister would have directed me away from the bland sauteed tofu and Chinese broccoli, awash in a nondescript brown sauce. Something to cheer: The new dining room, sunny in yellow and dressed up with eye-catching murals and handsome floral displays, is a vast improvement over the old one in the Eden Center.

A Family to Cherish
You don't have to be Vietnamese to feel like a part of this clan

By Tom Sietsema
Washington Post Staff Writer
Sunday, November 23, 2008

Some restaurants beckon customers with distinguished cooking. Others keep their dining rooms busy with attention to service or attractive environs. But it's unusual to find all three charms under one roof -- with moderate prices to boot.

Four Sisters, a vibrant reincarnation of the popular Huong Que ("Taste of Home") in the Eden Center in Falls Church, is that infrequent restaurant that manages to satisfy all of our senses and keep our expenses in check.

Two pieces of shrimp toast cost less than $5, and a single order reveals a lot about the place. The shrimp is sweet, its cushion of bread is crisp, and the appetizer comes with a plate of fresh herbs for wrapping around the snack and fish sauce for dipping the hot toast. A server is sure to explain how everything works, so even a Vietnamese-food novice can enjoy it.

With luck, that server will be one of the sisters.

"How did you know about us?" I overhear Le Lai, one of the four siblings behind the restaurant's title, ask a table of customers. "Were you ever at our old place?" she wants to know, referring to the cavernous space, informally known as Four Sisters, that was vacated in September for a slightly smaller location, albeit one with more parking for customers. Le Lai, who introduces herself as Sister No. 2, is easy to spot among the staff: She seems to be everywhere, and she plays the role of food guide as she helps guests navigate the wealth of options, always with an eye on balance. If you've never been, you'll need some help: The menu runs to about 160 dishes.

Much of the original menu is still available and as appealing as it ever was. For old times' sake, I reacquainted myself with the kitchen on my first visit by ordering baby clams with chopped pork. It's a warm, meaty salad tossed with cilantro and onions, everything lightened and brightened with a squeeze of a lime wedge at the table. To eat the mix, diners snap off "scoops" from the large and airy sesame crackers that accompany the appetizer. Another dish that made my mouth water at Huong Que: glossy roasted quail, served with lime juice and seasoned pepper that are stirred together to create a sassy foil to the rich fowl. "This is all finger food," says another spirited waitress, Lieu Lai, encouraging us to eat the snacks on our table with our hands and leaving behind some moist towelettes. "I'm Sister No. 4," she adds, before turning to a nearby table to hug some customers she recognizes from the previous establishment. ("How have you been!" she cries with genuine delight at the sight of the middle-age couple. "What should we get him to celebrate a birthday?" the wife asks Lieu Lai in a conspiratorial tone.)

Hospitality runs in the family, diners at Four Sisters quickly learn. The name overlooks an important part of the restaurant's success -- brother Hoa Lai is the head chef -- and the reality that two of the sisters work elsewhere these days. Sister No. 1, Ly Lai, runs a new restaurant, Sea Pearl, across the street from her siblings' venture, while Sister No. 3, Lo Ann Lai, owns a hair salon in Georgetown. But why mess with a good name?

As much as I've always appreciated the sisters' plotting my meals over the years, I've also learned that there are few things the kitchen can't do. Gently steamed sea bass sprinkled with black beans is as successful as crisp Chinese broccoli stir-fried with garlic. The vegetarian dish is distinguished by tanned garlic and a lovely smoky flavor. Caramelized pork short ribs are sweetly spiced, gently peppery and very satisfying; Sister No. 2 advises us to do what she does and add a little rice to the remaining liquid in its pot before calling it quits.

The changes all seem to be improvements. "Our old customers complained about the size of the pho," says Le Lai when she notices I've ordered that classic Vietnamese noodle soup. Previously, the dish was served in one size, large; these days, pho is offered in three sizes, including an appetizer bowl, so, as Le Lai explains, "people can eat more" from the rest of the menu. (I like the clove-fragrant broth with snowy strips of chicken.) The new list also adds grilled, skewered scallops and shrimp to the possibilities. A dusting of scallions and crushed peanuts sweetens the deal; a bed of vermicelli noodles turns the entree into a light feast for less than $14.

I don't recall much about the design of Huong Que, other than that the room was quite large and included a portrait of the four sisters, which now graces a wall here. (One regret for the owners: The new restaurant can't seat groups of 30 or more on weekends, as the old one did.) Huong Que's successor, a few miles to the west, is set off with walls the color of mustard, booths in light blue and an arch dividing front from back. "I'm the sister who loves flowers," I hear Le Lai tell some patrons. Sure enough, displays of fresh or embroidered flowers are everywhere.

Like everything else here, the art comes with stories courtesy of Sister No. 2. The vivid landscapes near the bar? Le Lai found an artist in Vietnam to depict the river houses of the Mekong Delta. The five panels in the rear? They highlight the different regions of Vietnam in their renderings of women shown with bamboo (illustrative of the north); dragons and phoenixes (representing the country's center) and straw hats and lotus flowers (symbolizing the south).

Four Sisters is a terrific restaurant, but it's not without room for improvement. I've heard complaints from diners who have received less-than-stellar service from staff members who aren't part of the family, and now and then a dish is merely satisfying (the one-note sauteed oyster mushrooms come to mind). Also, the soundtrack reminds me of music in an office elevator.

Yet as young as it is, and unless you enjoy eating dinner at 4 in the afternoon, don't dream of visiting Four Sisters without a reservation.

Because the word is out: The girls are back.