One day, four bowls of pho, how much slurping can one person do? Quite a lot, as it turns out this bright Wednesday in the Vietnamese capital.
A pho restaurant in Hanoi
My guide, Tu, with his back-to-front baseball cap and American television accent, has been handed a challenge. I want to find Hanoi's best pho, across a range of budgets, and I am relying on his insider knowledge.
It is clear Tu thinks I am barking mad and would rather show me a range of conventional tourist sites, including Uncle Ho's mausoleum and the lovely Temple of Literature. But I have been to Hanoi before and I want a different story. Pho is the signature dish of north Vietnam, made from a dense, almost earthy, stock and brimming with thinly sliced beef, silken vermicelli-style rice noodles, snap-fresh bean sprouts and lots and lots of mint and assorted herbage.
The Vietnamese love leafy herbs: all so healthy and fragrant and presented in springy piles, ready to be dunked into soup, popped into woks, eaten with chopsticks as dainty side dishes. Pho is the equivalent of grandma's homemade soup; at its best, it tastes cosy and familiar, as nourishing as a nursery supper.
Pho is also made with chicken but, as I don't eat poultry, I opt for a tasting test of beef. Tu says it's customary to order beef pho with the meat pink (tai) or well-done (chin) and there should be a slice or two of lime or lemon provided on the side to season the soup. Pho for morning tea? Why ever not. Tu lives at home and says he eats his mum's pho for breakfast.
It is clear Tu thinks I am barking mad and would rather show me a range of conventional tourist sites, including Uncle Ho's mausoleum and the lovely Temple of Literature. But I have been to Hanoi before and I want a different story. Pho is the signature dish of north Vietnam, made from a dense, almost earthy, stock and brimming with thinly sliced beef, silken vermicelli-style rice noodles, snap-fresh bean sprouts and lots and lots of mint and assorted herbage.
The Vietnamese love leafy herbs: all so healthy and fragrant and presented in springy piles, ready to be dunked into soup, popped into woks, eaten with chopsticks as dainty side dishes. Pho is the equivalent of grandma's homemade soup; at its best, it tastes cosy and familiar, as nourishing as a nursery supper.
Pho is also made with chicken but, as I don't eat poultry, I opt for a tasting test of beef. Tu says it's customary to order beef pho with the meat pink (tai) or well-done (chin) and there should be a slice or two of lime or lemon provided on the side to season the soup. Pho for morning tea? Why ever not. Tu lives at home and says he eats his mum's pho for breakfast.
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