By Helen Wolt
In Vietnam, pho is a national dish. Here, it’s slowly gaining a devoted following. Pho is an aromatic rice noodle soup. But this is no ordinary soup. It’s a flavor-packed meal of broth, rice noodles, and meat topped with sauces and fresh vegetables.
Pho eateries are common in Vietnam where pho first appeared as a breakfast item. Now it’s served anytime—whether for a quick snack from a street vender or in a café as the main meal of the day.
Colorado Springs author Anh Vu Sawyer grew up in Vietnam. Pho was often the meal her family shared. She also remembers special occasions where pho was served even though it was not strictly festive fare. “Pho is so popular that even on a holiday people eat it, too,” Sawyer said.
Pho originated in Hanoi during the colonial period. Pronounced fuh, like the French feu for fire (as in pot-au-feu), the dish reflects its Gallic and Chinese influence. Initially, it was very mild, as foods in the North tend to be. Refugees fleeing the civil war brought the soup south where it took on the bold flavors common there. Herbs, fish sauce, and chili paste fused with the milder pho to give it a uniquely Vietnamese profile.
“The spices in this soup are so good; you get addicted to it,” said Sawyer. “It’s cooked with onion, garlic, star anise, whole nutmeg and roasted ginger.” To bring out maximum flavor, oxtail and marrowbones simmer with the warm spices (star anise, nutmeg, and ginger) for hours. The mixture of savor
y and sweet give pho its complex character: subtle but bold, fiery but cool.
The steaming broth is laded over a mound of rice noodles. Then the meat is layered on. Choices include tripe, tendon, beef meatballs, or the most popular, paper-thin rare sirloin. The nearly raw strips cook in the hot broth.
As the soup is served, a “table salad” of Thai basil, bean sprouts, chilies, and cilantro accompanies the bowl. Diners can customize their dish as they tear and scatter the crisp veggies across the top. Soup can be sloppy, but don’t be shy. Proper etiquette allows for swirling and slurping. Two utensils are supplied—chopsticks to pick up the noodles and a tablespoon to catch the broth. Hoisin or chili sauce can be dashed into the soup bit-by-bit so that the soup’s delicate flavor isn’t muddled.
Match this healthy meal with another Southeast Asian treat: Vietnamese iced coffee. It arrives at the table in a tall glass. A stainless steel contraption sits on top—a mini coffee press. From it, bitter espresso slowly drips into a pool of sweetened condensed milk. If the coffee and pho are served at the same time, the filtering process will be complete just as the bottom of the soup bowl is in sight. The iced coffee serves as the perfect sweet ending to the meal.
In her book, “Song of Saigon,” Anh Vu Sawyer chronicles her life in war-weary Vietnam from her childhood to the Vu family’s last-minute escape as Saigon fell to the communists in 1975.
Making pho was a family affair. Sawyer explains, “a good Vietnamese wife” must know how to concoct a pot of pho if she hopes to find a husband. Girls learned by following their mother’s recipe. From a young age, they stood watch over the bubbly soup to skim off grease so that the broth would be clear.
“Life in Vietnam is so difficult. Food becomes the only joy we have on a daily basis,” Sawyer says. It’s her native cuisine she misses the most.
Vietnamese food is fresh. Lack of refrigeration forces cooks to shop for ingredients two times a day: once in the morning for lunch and again in the afternoon for dinner. Raw vegetable salads, such as lotus stem, jicama or carrot, are popular. Basil, cilantro, mint, saw leaf and other green herbs are used liberally.
Many dishes are stir-fried lightly in oil. But unlike Chinese cooking, they are not heavily sauced. Meats are expensive, so they’re stretched. Sawyer says, “From one chicken they can make twenty dishes, from soup to salad to main dishes.” Meals are chased with hot tea and finished with fresh fruit. Rich desserts seldom appear.
Along the Front Range, pho joints are popping up with regularity. Over two-dozen can be found across the Denver area. Several hot spots center around Federal Street and Alameda. A few of the best are Pho 79, Pho #1, Pho Duy, and Pho 99.
Take advantage of this cultural wealth. Plan a day trip to Denver. First stop is Pho 99, at 2200 W. Alameda, for lunch. Get energized with pho and iced coffee, and prepare to do some shopping. Next door is an enormous Asian grocery, Pacific Ocean International Supermarket. Stop in and pick up a Vietnamese coffee press and supplies to make your own iced coffee at home.
Why is Colorado seeing such as plethora of pho? According to the U.S. English Foundation, Vietnamese is the forth most spoken language in the metro area after English, Spanish and German. Luckily for adventurous foodies, this brings a delicious world to our tables.
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