Pho

The Evolution of Pho

Soup Rooted in Vietnam Becomes Americanized

http://www.vietworldkitchen.com/bookshelf/articles/pho_SJM.htm

By Andrea Q. Nguyen

Special to the Mercury News

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?

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

How to Eat Pho

By Andrea Q. Nguyen

Special to the Mercury News

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.

Your pho ritual may include:

Bean sprouts: Add them raw for crunch or blanch them first.

Chiles: Dip and wiggle thin slices of hot chile in the hot broth to release the oil. Leave them in if you dare. For best fragrance and taste, try Southeast Asian chiles such as Thai bird or dragon rather than jalapeños. Serranos are better than jalapeños.

Herbs: Strip fresh herb leaves from their stems, tear up the leaves and drop them into your bowl. Available at Viet markets, pricey ngo gai (culantro, thorny cilantro, saw-leaf herb) imparts heady cilantro notes. The ubiquitous purple-stemmed Asian/Thai basil (hung que) contributes sweet anise-like flavors. Spearmint (hung lui), popular in the north, adds zip. [For details, see Essential Viet herb page on this site.]

Vietnamese Herb Primer

What are Vietnamese herbs and how to use them for cooking and eating

Eating and cooking Viet requires lots of fresh herbs. Some are easily recognizable, others will seem more exotic. Below are short discussion on the different kinds of herbs, how to use them and how to store them.

* Cilantro and cilantro-like herbs: Ngo (cilantro), ngo gai (culantro), rau ram (Vietnamese coriander)

* Mint, basil, and mint-like herbs: Hung (mint), hung cay (spicy mint), hung que (Thai basil), kinh gioi (Vietnamese balm)

* Other Viet herbs: Tia to (red perilla), diep ca (fish mint), bao om (rice paddy), la lot (wild betel), xa (lemongrass), rau thom (sorrel), thi la (dill)

Lime: A squeeze of lime gives the broth a tart edge, especially nice if the broth is too sweet or bland.

Sauces: Many people squirt hoisin (tuong) or Sriracha hot sauce directly into the bowl. I don't favor this practice because it obliterates a well-prepared, nuanced broth. But I do reach for the hoisin and Sriracha bottles to make a dipping sauce for the beef meatballs (bo vien).

Making Pho at Home

It's convenient and fun to eat pho out, but nothing beats a homemade bowl.

What makes the homemade version dac biet (special) is the love and care put into the broth -- the cornerstone of pho. Multidimensional in fragrance and flavor, homemade broth will beat out those prepared in restaurants any day.

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:

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.

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.

3. Char the onion and ginger: It imparts a wonderful brown color and deepens the overall flavors.

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.

Beef noodle soup (pho bo)

Makes 8 satisfying (American-sized) bowls

For the broth:

2 medium yellow onions (about 1 pound total)

4-inch piece ginger (about 4 ounces)

5-6 pounds beef soup bones (marrow and knuckle bones)

*5 star anise (40 star points total)

*6 whole cloves

*3-inch cinnamon stick

1 pound piece of beef chuck, rump, brisket or cross rib roast, cut into 2-by-4-inch pieces (weight after trimming)

*1 1/2 tablespoons salt

*4 tablespoons fish sauce

1 ounce (1-inch chunk) yellow rock sugar (duong phen; see Note)

*-We might use a bit more next time as the broth was delicious, but a bit weak.

For the bowls:

1 1/2-2 pounds small (1/8-inch wide) dried or fresh banh pho noodles ("rice sticks'' or Thai chantaboon)

1/2 pound raw eye of round, sirloin, London broil or tri-tip steak, thinly sliced across the grain (1/16 inch thick; freeze for 15 minutes to make it easier to slice)

1 medium yellow onion, sliced paper-thin, left to soak for 30 minutes in a bowl of cold water

3 or 4 scallions, green part only, cut into thin rings

1/3 cup chopped cilantro (ngo)

Ground black pepper

Optional garnishes arranged on a plate and placed at the table:

Sprigs of spearmint (hung lui) and Asian/Thai basil (hung que)

Leaves of thorny cilantro (ngo gai) cut into bite-size peices

Bean sprouts (about 1/2 pound) – blanch to help stop soup from cooling quickly

Red hot chiles (such as Thai bird or dragon), thinly sliced

Lime wedges

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. (I was able to do this on my electric grill, in the rocks, between the elements.)

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. Or cook longer to boil down a bit and concentrate, we found it a little weak.

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. *-Easy to do along with cilantro and bean sprouts, with large strainer-scoop with long handle.

If desired, after blanching noodles, blanch bean sprouts for 30 seconds in same saucepan. They should slightly wilt but retain some crunch. Drain and add to the garnish plate.

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. – Yes, to keep soup from cooling down.) 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.

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.

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

THAI COCONUT TAPIOCA PUDDING WITH CAYENNE-SPICED MANGO

Bon Appétit | January 2006

http://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/views/233724

Servings: Makes 6 servings.

1 2x1-inch piece fresh ginger, peeled, sliced

1 1x1-inch piece fresh galangal,* peeled, sliced

10 Thai basil leaves*

6 fresh cilantro sprigs

2 kaffir lime leaves* or 2 teaspoons grated lime peel

1 tablespoon sliced lemongrass*

2 cups water

2 cups whole milk

1/2 cup sugar

1/2 cup small pearl tapioca* (not quick-cooking)

1 13.5- to 14-ounce can unsweetened coconut milk*

1 large mango, peeled, cut into cubes

1 tablespoon fresh lime juice

Pinch of cayenne pepper

Thai basil sprigs

Combine first 6 ingredients in food processor; blend 20 seconds. Transfer to medium saucepan; add 2 cups water and bring to boil. Remove pan from heat and let steep uncovered 20 minutes. Pour mixture into strainer set over heavy large saucepan; press on solids to release flavored liquid. Discard solids in strainer.

Add milk and sugar to flavored liquid in pan; bring to boil. Stir in tapioca; return to boil. Reduce heat to medium and simmer uncovered until pudding thickens and is reduced to 2 1/4 cups, stirring frequently, about 35 minutes (More like 2 hours to cook down, ours was soupy). Stir in coconut milk (pudding will be runny). Transfer to bowl. Cover and refrigerate overnight.

Toss mango cubes, lime juice, and cayenne in medium bowl. Divide tapioca among 6 stemmed glasses or bowls. (Ours never set, so try even longer. But it tasted good regardless! Top with mango mixture; garnish with basil sprigs.

*Galangal, Thai basil, kaffir lime leaves, lemongrass, small pearl tapioca, and unsweetened coconut milk are available at Asian markets.

Beer – Singha or others. Not many and not great.

Wine—Not many. PB Valley, Des Brumes, Siam Winery, Mae Chan Valley Shala One, Granmonte.

Drinks: http://www.khiewchanta.com/archives/drinks/

Iced Watermelon Drink

1-2 Kgs Sindria (Sweet Red Watermelon)*

500 gms Ice*

2 Thirsty People

* Two to one, watermelon to ice.

1. In a food processor blend the ice until it is finely broken up.

2. Chop the red part of the melon. Remove excessive seeds, but it isn't necessary to remove every one.

3. Add the melon chunks to the blender.

4. Blend a little more until the melon is puried and well mixed with the ice.

5. Serve in tall glasses with a straw.

A wondeful simple way to enjoy fresh fruit.