If you have ever met a Vietnamese person, or even just talked to a college student, chances are you’ve heard of pho, a decadent, filling, and obscenely cheap noodle soup unlike any other. Clear, delicately spiced, savory beef stock, fresh rice noodles, onions, cilantro, slices of every conceivable part of cow, limes, bean sprouts, chili sauce—when done right, it is so, so good. As a friend described it, “It’s like childhood soup that tastes like an exotic country.” And luckily for me, I grew up eating pho—that’s pronounced “fuh,” as in, it rhymes with “duh,” as in, “you would have to harbor a Freudian death wish to try to get between me and a good bowl of pho.”

Mind-blowing pho, sadly, does not exist in Claremont. (It will always be found at the obscure place in Santa Ana that my aunt takes me to whenever I visit her, next to the reflexology parlor.) Outside of Claremont are a smattering of Vietnamese pho places, where you can either dine in (highly recommended for the freshest, hottest product) or do takeout. But only one of them can be Pho King Awesome.

RULES: The pho must be from restaurants within a two-mile radius of Claremont. I ordered the same soup from each restaurant: pho tai, a normal beef pho with thin slices of steak, along with a huge bag of garnishes in each. I then served the pho to assorted freshmen from my dorm, all young and uncultured in the ways of the world. Removed of hole-in-the-wall décor or sketchiness, the pho can stand on its own merits to prove it is Pho King Awesome.

My test subjects scuttle down the stairs into the dorm lounge, where I’ve set three different soups for them to try. These were the following choices:1: Pho Century The shortest distance from Claremont and close to the Wal-Mart, Pho Century’s bright, fluorescent lighting is offset by the wonderful, homey smell of pho. If you like watching subtitled Japanese game shows while eating your pho, this is the place for you. If you’re a Pho King freak, however, you pay attention to the soup.

Critic’s take: Decent pho, a place to bring a neophyte to. I’d have to say the pho is light, if not on the salty side. The noodles are dry, however.Our diners: “This is pho, huh?” Kyle asks as he slurps down more noodles. “This is pretty tasty.”

“I like it,” says Jack. “It’s very light, but flavorful.”

Jeff is less complimentary. “This tastes like what ass tastes like.” He stares straight into my eyes with his ROTC killer face. “No, I’ve never tasted ass. Yes, you can quote me on that.”

2: Pho Ha Nothing in the area has the name cachet that the Pho Ha restaurants pull. I’ve come to this place right before closing time on weekdays, and people are still there, chatting over the dregs of their pho bowls and laughing over cups of tea. It’s always been my favorite place in the area, and their Pomona location is an infinitely better alternative to the nearby Mix Bowl.

Critic’s Take: Easily my pick for pho in the area. The broth is darker, but complex and well-balanced (with onions properly charred before they are added to the broth), and the noodles have an elastic snap to them indicating their freshness. But would these freshmen appreciate it?

Our diners: “I’m really liking pho number two,” Jack says appreciatively, spooning more soup over noodles and squeezing lime into the bowl.

Kyle agrees. “I think it’s more spicy. Like, there’s more spices in it. More hearty.” The entire takeout container is slowly disappearing.

Even Jeff is persuaded, as are the random people who come in and out of the room to try “whatever is making that delicious smell.” “You know what?” he says. “I don’t think it’s that bad.” A little about Jeff: He does not praise things, and this is the equivalent of him giving out a Nobel.

3: Pho Express You’re welcome, Claremont Colleges. I almost got killed for you by going to this random, poorly-lit place with a peeling sign in Pomona. Its owners hid the C health rating behind a potted plant, and there was no one except employees in the restaurant. Regardless, I gave it a shot. Sometimes the best food comes from the sketchiest places?

Critic’s Take: In Vietnam, a method of making folk medicine is to put all sorts of crazy roots and dead animals in rice liquor, steep it for a year, and then drink it. My dad once made me try one with black licorice, cobra, and molting pigeon (feathers and all). That is what this pho tasted like. Did not want. Do not ever want. I warn the guys before they eat it.

Diners’ Take: “Watery and sweet,” Charlie says firmly, having gravitated towards pho number three first. “That’s weird for a beef soup.” I remind him that it came from a C-rated restaurant; he shrugs and continues eating the bowl. “You know, rat poison lends a great flavor to it.”

Everyone comes over and takes a sniff. Some dare to try to eat it, despite the ragged mess the steak looks like, and then Jack the military man points out that cyanide tastes sweet. We end up throwing the entire thing away.

The Pho King Winner: Hands down among the freshmen was Pho Ha. I agree. The place is clean, the wait staff is polite, and where there’s a good pho broth, there’s a good menu. Skip the other pho places—in fact, skip Mixbowl all together (unless Pho Ha is closed) and order from here. If the idea of pho has you salivating, there are more spectacular Vietnamese dishes waiting for you. If only Pho Ha delivered, it would be the Pho King Best.

The Pho King Loser: Avoid Pho Express at all costs, unless you too have a Freudian death wish.