by Blaise Ricciardi

Chicago winters, notorious for their harsh winds and bitter cold, often keep my family sheltered inside. On one such snowy, cruel Sunday, my dad suggested we try the pho at Pasteur, an authentic Vietnamese restaurant on the north side of Chicago. We quickly agreed; how could we say no to a warm bowl of soup on this miserable winter day? After several appetizers, four enormous bowls of pho arrived at our table. I slowly slurped the broth and was astonished by the intricate flavor. Savory with a slight kick of heat, I was captivated by one of my new favorite dishes. The warm and delicious broth flowed down my throat, clearing it of any blockages. Immediately, I felt rejuvenated and free from any stress. So much culture and history was captured inside this masterpiece.

The unfamiliar bowl of pho enjoyed at this family gathering forever changed my perspective. Even from afar, you could smell the delicious, savory, and tangy aroma. I felt like a kid in a candy store, surrounded by the delicious scents. I was in awe of how delightful a bowl of soup can be; the rich broth, a piece of beef, and nutty rice noodles combined into an amazing, complete bite. Each bowl of soup comes with a plate of customizable garnishes, making each person’s preference and final product unique. These toppings include “scallions, Thai basil, lime, bean sprouts, thinly sliced onion, and cilantro” and “it is often served with hoisin and sriracha sauces mixed in” (Martin). Facing the tanginess of the sriracha as well as the sweetness of the hoisin is necessary for highlighting the rich bone broth.

Oddly enough, a traditional bowl of pho has qualities that cause many debates about the dish’s true heritage. The use of beef was not prominent in Vietnamese culture, however, shortly after France colonized Vietnam, beef scraps and bones were left to the local population and were later found in pho recipes in the early 1900s (Peters). Some historians have argued that the beef component gives partial traditional ownership of the dish to the French. However, the main part of the dish, the rich broth, still resides in Vietnamese culture. As a result, “French writers now ignore the urbanization and new labor systems which led individuals to invent pho under colonialism and replace that history with an idealized view of pho as an authentic, eternal Vietnamese dish” (Peters). Not only was it created in Vietnam, but pho and its culture also evolved there. Originally, pho was only served in restaurants until 10 a.m., however, to fit modern needs, it became available all day long (McKeever). I’m thankful for this change, as the traditional flavors late at night have never let me down. Pho has changed my perception of how I view world cuisines and their cultures; every dish has a unique history, and the next new food you try may become your favorite. 

The flavor pho offered that first winter night was monumental in developing my pallet. I now find myself looking for Vietnamese restaurants wherever I go. I love how I feel immediately welcomed by the hospitality of their culture. Determined to accommodate you, the vibe is impeccable. As I am surrounded by cheerful families, I feel like I belong. Although the love for my predominantly Italian, Polish, German, and Irish roots are paramount, I have since enlightened myself about appreciating other cultures around the world – one way being through food. Since childhood, I have been a food fanatic with a strong pallet. My parents established food and family bonding as a vital tradition early on in my life. Whether this was by enjoying home-cooked meals or nights out experiencing the tastes of different cultures, it has always been a priority for my family to eat together. My personal experience of loving food has brought me to the conclusion that I live to eat, and not eat to live. Food is enjoyable, but more importantly, it brings us much closer to our family and the cultures around us.