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A
R T I C L E Beef
pho recipe R
E L A T E D More tips and secrets to making pho Notes from 2003 Hanoi seminar on pho From the London Observer comes a 5/16/04 article by Alex Renton on pho and other Hanoi treats.
O T H E R Chef
Didier Corlou's Food
writer Nicole Routhier's Chef
Emeril Lagasse's A
30-minute version A
healthy, quick version Viet
restaurateur Ha Guthrie's recipe W E B S I T E S U.S. Pho Shops Phofever.com
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a terrific Los Angeles-based blog Other Interesting Sites eGullet.com
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the virtual foodie community has a discussion forum on pho V
I S I T O R Don, a firefighter in South Bend, Indiana, emailed this in 11/06: "I frequently make pho at the fire house, everyone loves it. I am writing because what inspired me to make this wonderful soup on my own was the lack of Vietnamese culture here. The ER director at Saint Joseph Regional Med Center in South Bend also raises Buffalo. He gives me buffalo bones to make the soup stock with and it yield an excellent flavor. Maybe somewhere 100 years ago in Vietnam someone may have used bison bones for this. I just though I would share with you that buffalo bones make a very clean and flavorful broth. Perhaps you can experiment with this yourself." Mike
in Carol Stream, Illinois, asked: "I went to the store and they told
me I should also purchase gia vi nau pho. It's a bunch of spices
in a tea bag?" (2/07) I responded: There's no need to use gia vi nau pho. It's just a bunch of spices that someone gathered and marks up. Products like that are the equivalent of chili mixes or taco mixes sold at supermarkets. Why let someone else gather the spices for you when they're pretty easy to find? Plus, you don't know what quality of spices you've got in a package, how old the stuff is. I wouldn't use it if I were you. Such products don't save you time because you still have to simmer the broth for hours. Plus, the flavor profile is determined by someone else, not you! Be the master of your own kitchen. K
I T C H E N Magazine and Newspaper Articles
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Posted
Wed., June 9, 2004, copyright San Jose Mercury News; all photos belong
to Andrea Nguyen and are for posting at this site only. The
Evolution of Pho Perhaps it's
because Vietnamese emigrants decided to settle all over the United States,
and wherever we are, there's sure to be pho. The heady broth, chewy
rice noodles, sweet spices and scintillating herbs provide comfort in
a bowl. Long confined
to Vietnam and immigrant communities, pho is becoming the most
popular Asian noodle soup in the United States. Check the phone book for
pho in Santa Clara and San Jose and you'll find more than 25 listings,
including mom-and-pop operations and the prolific Pho Hoa franchises.
One Southern California chain, Pho 2000, caters specifically to beef-loving
Korean-Americans.
American
bowls of pho are about 30 percent bigger than what's found at a
street-side joint in Vietnam. Also, American pho restaurants regularly
offer diners myriad options to personalize their bowls: raw beef, cooked
beef (such as brisket, flap or outside flank), tendon, tripe and meatballs. This fanciful
display is a reflection of America's wealth. That is, we have options
here -- an uncommon luxury in Vietnam; in fact, if you're low on money
in Vietnam you may order a less-expensive bowl without meat.
What makes
pho universally loved? Sacramento
restaurateur, chef and cookbook author Mai Pham points out that Vietnamese
food offers an appealing flavor profile to the U.S. palate: "Most
of the ingredients are very familiar. It's fresh and not so spicy. Visually
it's easy to see. It's not mysterious.'' A smart businesswoman
with foresight, Pham partnered with StockPot, a Campbell Soup Co. subsidiary
in Seattle, to develop a commercial pho broth. Though made of chicken,
the broth contains the bold spice notes and sweet-salty flavors found
in typical beef pho. At San Jose
State University, Executive Chef Jay Marshall uses the StockPot product
at an Asian noodle soup bar where diners get to pick and choose from an
array of rice noodles, vegetables, herbs and protein. Because there are
plenty of pho shops near campus, the chef decided to use the product
to offer a more non-traditional bowl of pho. "Our students love it,''
Marshall says. "People across the board eat it. It's not tied to
any nationality.'' How pho came
to be is a murky issue. While scholars, cooks and diners agree that pho
was invented in the early part of the 20th century in northern Vietnam,
no one is certain of the specifics. Pham recalls
that in the late 1990s, when she first returned to Vietnam to do research,
she found that there wasn't much written or documented on pho. In gathering
oral histories from elders, she concluded that the noodle soup came from
Hanoi and was influenced by both Chinese and French traditions. Last year
pho's mysterious beginnings were debated and investigated at several
events in Hanoi. At one seminar, the discussion focused on the word itself.
Some proposed that "pho'' was a Vietnamese corruption of the French
feu (fire), as in the classic boiled dinner pot-au-feu, which the
French colonialists introduced to Vietnam. In a follow-up
publication, seminar organizer Didier Corlou, executive chef of the Sofitel
Métropole hotel in Hanoi, noted that charring the onion and ginger
for pho broth is similar to the French method of adding roasted onion
to pot-au-feu for extra brown coloring. This use of charred ingredients
is one thing that sets pho apart from other Asian noodle soups. As for the
birthplace of pho, a couple of theories point to Nam Dinh province,
southwest of Hanoi. One argument is that ingenious cooks in Nam Dinh City
(once a major textile center) satisfied the gastronomic desires of Vietnamese
and French residents by inventing the dish using local ingredients (e.g.,
rice noodles) and adding du boeuf for a bit of foreign extravagance.
(Before the French occupation, cows in Vietnam were cherished work animals,
not food sources.) Another theory
attempted to trace pho to the small impoverished village of Van
Cu in Nam Dinh province. During the 20th century, as a means of survival,
nearly all Van Cu villagers turned to making and peddling pho 50 miles
away in Hanoi. Consequently, many pho vendors in the capital today
are from that village. In 1954,
under the Geneva Accords, Vietnam was split in two. To avoid communism,
many northerners migrated southward, bringing their pho culture with them.
In democratic South Vietnam, pho made a brash turn away from its
conservative northern traditions. It was embellished
with more of everything -- meat, noodles and broth. The practice of garnishing
pho with bean sprouts, ngo gai (thorny cilantro), hung
que (Thai/Asian basil) and lime was introduced. Diners also started
adding tuong (bean sauce/hoisin sauce) directly to their bowls. This freewheeling,
adulterated incarnation reflected the southern Vietnamese penchant for
eating wildly complicated food and lots of it. Then, as
now, northern pho purists reacted with horror, decrying the loss
of authenticity. Though philosophically liberating, tinkering with the
sacred broth was an affront to strict northern cooks, whose pride and
reputation rested in crafting a well-balanced bowl. Even today,
what many Americans identify as the requisite pho garnish plate
is hard to find in Hanoi. For purists like my northern-born mom, only
"pho bac'' (northern pho) will do. Whether you
enjoy your next bowl of pho at home, in a restaurant or at a noodle
bar, you'll be part of a special culinary and cultural transformation.
Like many ethnic foods introduced to this country, part of pho
will forever remain rooted in Vietnam while its future unfolds at the
American table. Posted Wed, June 9, 2004, copyright San Jose Mercury News How
to Eat Pho Your pho
ritual may include:
Posted Wed, June 9, 2004, copyright San Jose Mercury News Making
Pho at Home I've learned
to make pho from listening to my mom and other women, reading cookbooks
in Vietnamese and English, and emptying many bowls. Here are some insights:
From eating pho in Vietnam and observing how the cows there live low-key lives grazing in the countryside, I was inspired to make pho broth from the fragrant bones of grass-fed and natural beef. The experiments have consistently yielded amazing results, with the essence of beef captured every time. To find the bones, ask a butcher who breaks down large beef carcass sections into small retail cuts. [Also check these sites for sources for natural, organic or grass-fed beef: Eatwellguide.org, Localharvest.org, Eatwild.com] 2. Aim
for a clear broth: This is achieved by parboiling and rinsing the
bones, which greatly reduces the amount of residue in the broth. You may
think you're pouring essential flavors down the drain, but you're not.
The bones exude their essence during the three-hour gentle simmer. Cooking
at a low heat also helps produce clear broth.
4. Leave
some fat: Despite all the talk about obesity in the United States,
I like some shiny globules of fat floating in the broth. They lend a richness
that underscores pho's beefiness. 5. Serve
it hot: To cook the raw beef and warm the cooked beef and noodles,
the broth must be boiling when it's ladled into the bowl. But hot pho
shouldn't be left to sit in the bowl. The noodles will absorb too much
broth. Posted Wed, June 9, 2004, copyright San Jose Mercury News Makes 8 satisfying
(American-sized) bowls
For the
bowls: Optional
garnishes arranged on a plate and placed at the table: Prepare the broth: Char onion
and ginger. Use an open flame on grill or gas stove. Place onions
and ginger on cooking grate and let skin burn. (If using stove, turn on
exhaust fan and open a window.) After about 15 minutes, they will soften
and become sweetly fragrant. Use tongs to occasionally rotate them and
to grab and discard any flyaway onion skin. You do not have to blacken
entire surface, just enough to slightly cook onion and ginger. Let cool.
Under warm water, remove charred onion skin; trim and discard blackened
parts of root or stem ends. If ginger skin is puckered and blistered,
smash ginger with flat side of knife to loosen flesh from skin. Otherwise,
use sharp paring knife to remove skin, running ginger under warm water
to wash off blackened bits. Set aside. Parboil
bones. Place bones in stockpot (minimum 12-quart capacity) and cover
with cold water. Over high heat, bring to boil. Boil vigorously 2 to 3
minutes to allow impurities to be released. Dump bones and water into
sink and rinse bones with warm water. Quickly scrub stockpot to remove
any residue. Return bones to pot. Simmer
broth. Add 6 quarts water to pot, bring to boil over high heat, then
lower flame to gently simmer. Use ladle to skim any scum that rises to
surface. Add remaining broth ingredients and cook 1 1/2 hours. Boneless
meat should be slightly chewy but not tough. When it is cooked to your
liking, remove it and place in bowl of cold water for 10 minutes; this
prevents the meat from drying up and turning dark as it cools. Drain the
meat; cool, then refrigerate. Allow broth to continue cooking; in total,
the broth should simmer 3 hours. Strain broth
through fine strainer. If desired, remove any bits of gelatinous tendon
from bones to add to your pho bowl. Store tendon with cooked beef. Discard
solids. Use ladle
to skim as much fat from top of broth as you like. (Cool it and refrigerate
it overnight to make this task easier; reheat befofe continuing.) Taste
and adjust flavor with additional salt, fish sauce and yellow rock sugar.
The broth should taste slightly too strong because the noodles and other
ingredients are not salted. (If you've gone too far, add water to dilute.)
Makes about 4 quarts. Assemble
bowls: The
key is to be organized and have everything ready to go. Thinly slice cooked
meat. For best results, make sure it's cold. Heat broth
and ready noodles. To ensure good timing, reheat broth over medium
flame as you're assembling bowls. If you're using dried noodles, cover
with hot tap water and soak 15-20 minutes, until softened and opaque white.
Drain in colander. For fresh rice noodles, just untangle and briefly rinse
in a colander with cold water. Blanch
noodles. Fill 3- or 4-quart saucepan with water and bring to boil.
For each bowl, use long-handle strainer to blanch a portion of noodles.
As soon as noodles have collapsed and lost their stiffness (10-20 seconds),
pull strainer from water, letting water drain back into saucepan. Empty
noodles into bowls. Noodles should occupy 1/4 to 1/3 of bowl; the latter
is for noodle lovers, while the former is for those who prize broth. Add other ingredients. Place slices of cooked meat, raw meat and tendon (if using) atop noodles. (If your cooked meat is not at room temperature, blanch slices for few seconds in hot water from above.) Garnish with onion, scallion and chopped cilantro. Finish with black pepper. Ladle
in broth and serve. Bring broth to rolling boil. Check seasoning.
Ladle broth into each bowl, distributing hot liquid evenly so as to cook
raw beef and warm other ingredients. Serve with garnish plate.
Variations:
If you want to replicate the splendorous options available at pho shops,
head to the butcher counter at a Vietnamese or Chinese market. There you'll
find white cords of gan (beef tendon) and thin pieces of nam
(outside flank, not flank steak). While tendon requires no preparation
prior to cooking, nam should be rolled and tied with string for easy handling.
Simmer it and the beef tendon in the cooking broth for two hours, or until
chewy-tender. Airy book
tripe (sach) is already cooked when you buy it. Before using, wash
and gently squeeze it dry. Slice it thinly to make fringe-like pieces
to be added to the bowl during assembly. For beef meatballs (bo vien),
purchase them in Asian markets in the refrigerator case; they are already
precooked. Slice each one in half and drop into broth to heat through.
When you're ready to serve, ladle them out with the broth to top each
bowl. Andrea
Q. Nguyen
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Q. Nguyen. |
Ask
someone to name a Vietnamese dish, and he or she will most likely say
pho (rhymes with "duh''). Twenty-nine years ago, who would
have dreamed that the national soup of Vietnam would be so well embraced
in America?
Pho
has changed much during its nearly 100-year history. At its birth,
pho was basically just boiled beef, noodles and broth. Inventive
cooks then developed the raw beef version (pho bo tai) and chicken
pho (pho ga), and during wartime when beef was scarce, they made
pork pho (pho lon). Though these and other variations exist, most
people define pho as a beefy affair.
On
a 2003 trip to Vietnam, I didn't get many choices. At a stall in Ho Chi
Minh City's famous Cho Ben Thanh market, I ordered a bowl with chewy beef
tendon and was told there was none that day -- just cooked and raw beef.
All one extremely busy spot in Hanoi offered was pho with cooked beef.
True to the purist northern tradition, the pho was steamy hot,
and no leafy garnish plate appeared. But it was one of the best I'd ever
eaten. Like the locals, I sat crouched on a tiny stool and slurped up
every bit. When the bowl was empty, I happily paid 11,000 dong (about
60 cents) and departed with a beefiness that lingered on my lips all afternoon.
Garnishing
pho is like putting together your own hamburger -- you can have it your
way. So, before putting any pho into your mouth, add your own finishing
touches. Then dive in with a two-handed approach: chopsticks in one hand
to pick up the noodles, the soup spoon in the other to scoop up broth
and other goodies.
1.
Start with good beef bones: Avoid neck bones. Look for knuckle bones
and leg bones that contain marrow. At Asian markets, you'll find beef
bones cut and bagged in the refrigerated section. Vietnamese markets will
sometimes have the leg bones at the butcher counter. You can specify how
you want them sawed; ask for two- to three-inch sections.
3.
Char the onion and ginger: It imparts a wonderful brown color and
deepens the overall flavors.
For
the broth: 
Note:
Yellow rock sugar (a.k.a. lump sugar) is sold in one-pound boxes at
Chinese and Southeast Asian markets. Break up large chunks with hammer.