One early fall afternoon, an extended family showed up in Mariners jerseys for a quick meal before a game: Two parents, their adult children, maybe someone’s significant other. It was their first time at the Boat, the restaurant that now occupies the historic (and boat-shaped) home of Seattle’s first pho shop.

“So, they serve just one dish?” the father asked, slightly confounded, one table away from me. Someone else tried to order fried rice only to learn that, nope, the only rice here comes as a side to the garlic fried chicken that stars—well, solos, really—on the menu.

The confusion was understandable. When sisters Quynh and Yenvy Pham turned the lights back on at their parents’ original space, they didn’t overextend. The entirety of the Boat’s menu consists of cơm gà mắm tỏi—one half of a small chicken that’s fried, coated in fish sauce, and blizzarded with so much chopped garlic, you can hardly make out the meat beneath. It comes on a platter with either a scoop of fluffy turmeric-yellow rice, or a bowl of chicken broth and egg noodles. Recently Quynh and Yenvy added a third choice to accompany the chicken: dry noodles, savory with pineapple, Maggi seasoning, and a subtle dash of chicken liver. Throw in the sidecar of chicken broth and the chrysanthemum salad that rounds out most platters, and you’ve got a full and thoroughly enjoyable meal for $18.

As that family at the next table ordered drinks, I sat near the Boat’s prow and debated with myself: Shouldn’t a restaurant of the year be a little more complex? A little more…fine dining? Shouldn’t it involve foraging or a bread program—or a server explaining how family-style dishes work?

Not to get all Marie Kondo on everyone, but ultimately it came down to picking the place that brought me the most joy over the past 12 months. No question. For its reliable comfort food, its unexpectedly precise cocktails, and an uncanny ability to rise to any occasion, the Boat is Seattle Met’s restaurant of the year.

Any great restaurant is a feat of alchemy, somehow transcending the sum of its parts. The Boat may keep it simple, but the Phams have built a spot that delivers a good time (and gloriously sticky fingers) whether you’re coming in for a Wednesday lunch or Saturday-night drinks. It’s the versatile destination you keep in your pocket for friend meetups, impromptu date nights, and solo counter lunches beneath the light of the neon pink chicken that glows in the window.

Sure, the Boat serves just one dish, but it comes in multiple versions. So less looks like more. Especially if you play around with extras like the fried egg that’s great on top of rice. It’s a neat trick from a pair of second-generation restaurateurs who balance the legacy of their parents’ pho shop with energetic new presentations of Vietnamese food culture. Somehow, they run multiple establishments and muster additional energy to be vocal advocates for Little Saigon and the neighborhood businesses that take the brunt of Seattle’s thorniest civic issues.

The Pham sisters are skilled restaurant runners who don’t always get recognized as such. It might be because of a shitty societal tendency to underestimate women of color, or because of Quynh and Yenvy’s default mode of keeping things almost comically unpretentious—like the giant sign at the Boat’s entrance that just says, “Pho Next Store.” (It’s intended to point soup-seeking customers toward Phở Bắc Sup Shop, the current flagship of Pho Bac, which originated in this building, back in 1983.)

Okay, I lied. The Boat does serve one dish besides its garlic chicken: bánh kẹp, or pandan waffles, chewy and sweet and accompanied by a little cup of coconut “cloud,” whipped with egg whites. It’s a trick Yenvy learned over at her Vietnamese coffee shop, Hello Em. There, the salty-sweet foam tops espresso drinks, but it’s an equally great dip for a warm waffle. The Boat’s cocktail list bears lessons learned at Phởcific  Standard Time, the craft cocktail bar Quynh and Yenvy tucked upstairs at their newest Phở Bắc location. The bar was the brainchild of their brother, Khoa, who passed away unexpectedly in 2021. There’s a cutout of him, making a goofy face, tucked behind the counter at the Boat, next to the cocktail fixings.

Their most popular drink, says Yenvy, is the cay vang, a citrusy combo of gin, yuzu, calamansi, and aquafaba, a.k.a. chickpea water. But every beverage I’ve had there, from a pandan daiquiri to the cognac washed in coconut fat (hell, even the iced tea) has delivered.

In the future, says Yenvy, she’d like the Boat to become a 21-and-over cocktail bar at night. A Little Saigon version of Phởcific Standard Time. “Wouldn’t that be fun? In a year or so, when my city helps me clean up my neighborhood?” But as of today, two people can come here for dinner, a pair of cocktails, and dessert and pay less than $100, even after tax and tip. That’s in 2023 dollars. In Seattle.

On my last visit, I finished my meal, strafed my chicken-y hands with a napkin, and headed to the counter to pay my bill. I strained to hear if the family at the next table ended up liking their food. But all I heard was silence—everyone was busy devouring their chicken.