Pho Real

On Friday I had the pleasure of enjoying my first bowl of authentic pho, the wondrous Vietnamese soup that Anthony Bourdain so lovingly describes in his book A Cook’s Tour. Ever since reading that chapter, I’ve had an intense longing to encounter the rich, brothy treat. Now that I’ve experienced pho, I can tell you it is every bit as delightful as Bourdain makes it out to be.

The soup’s basic ingredients consist of a rich meaty broth, noodles, onions and fresh chives. Whatever else is added is user-selected. Firstly, one must select which meats they want to include. I opted for the bowl that contained tripe, tendon, and skirt steak believing that I’d gain authenticity by selecting these oft discarded ingredients.

The second joy of pho is the tweaking of each individual’s bowl according to personal taste. I added 5 or 6 basil leaves, a squeeze of lime, fresh peppers and lots of sriracha. What can I say? I really dig spicy food. Some inner glutton for punishment compels me to find a way to achieve a higher temperature in my mouth than the absurd heat wave we’ve had recently. Yes, I pay for it the next day; but the occasions are few and far between that I feel actual remorse for the sins I’ve committed. Usually I’m just plain guilty and ready to pay.

Back to the pho… at first I struggled with how to eat the tripe. It came in long stands with smaller tentacle like strands hanging off of each piece. Much like a streamer from 6th grade gym class. Knowing tripe can be chewy, I decided to only bite of a piece instead of popping the whole caboodle in my mouth. I quickly discovered that the best approach is an all or nothing attack which allows ample broth to hitch a ride on the stringy tripe and provide 1-2 punch of flavor and texture.

The skirt steak was delightfully tender, thin slices of beef slowly changed color in front of me as the scolding broth worked its way into the meat. I found myself increasingly surprised and enthused with each bite. Every spoonful provided yet another opportunity to build upon the series of flavors present in the bowl. I believe it was for this reason that I was so enchanted with the dish.

Each person at my table ordered basically the same thing, but by the end of the meal we were all consuming an entirely different soup. The beauty of each bowl is personal, a self-contained flavor trip, never to be repeated again in exactly the same manner.

I can assure you though; I’ll sure as hell try.