Andrea Nguyen

Thai and Viet markets in the U.S. use whatever strain of shallot that's available here; the skin is a rich brown color. In Vietnam, the shallots are smaller and the skin is red-purple. When you want a lot of shallots at a cheap price, head to where Thais and Viet people shop for food. These members of the lily family are sold in plastic netting by the bag. They can be of slightly less quality (you get what you pay for) but the price is right. In Vietnamese cooking, shallots are used practically everyday. They have a remarkably sweet fragrance that's not like the regular yellow onion. Shallots may be pickled; thinly sliced, dehydrated and then fried to a crisp and used to garnish certain foods; and sometimes be charred and use them in pho stock instead of yellow onion. Andrea

Ah, the chewy stuff in a bowl of pho... Tendon is the white fibrous connective tissue that unites a muscle with some other part of the body, such as a bone. Tendon is a cord or band of tissue that transmits the force which the muscle exerts. Think of your Achilles heel -- that's a tendon. In pho, cords of white tendon (from the cow's shin) are cooked in the broth. Some restaurants then take the tendon pieces and press them into a loaf pan (or something of that sort) and let them cool. When tendon cools, it sticks together and becomes very firm. This makes it super easy for a pho joint to take a block of cooked tendon and slice it thinly (using an electric meat slicer, for example) to put into your soup bowl. When the boiling broth is poured over, the tendon is softened and ready for eating. As for the tripe, it's technically defined as "the stomach of a ruminant" in the Oxford Companion to Food. Ruminants include cow, ox, sheep, deer, etc -- animals that are even toed, hoofed, and have three- or four-chambered stomachs. There are basically 4 types of tripe, depending on which stomach it comes from. In pho, what's used is called book, leaf or bible tripe, and comes from the third stomach. It's quite pretty because it actually looks like dangling book pages. For pho, the book tripe is cut very thinly before being added to a bowl. Unlike other kinds of tripe, such as honeycomb, you don't need to cook it to tenderize it further. Being cut thin means that it won't be overly chewy yet still a little crunchy. In the U.S., book tripe has been hygienically processed so that there's little odor or flavor. As with many Asian foods, it's about texture. Happy eating, Andrea

I don't think there's a direct link between the French and Viet practices of eating snails. Yup, snails are eaten all over the world. From delicate tiny ones you'd patiently pick at to big whelks and conchs that you'd have to wrestle with. Along the California coast, for example, Kellet's whelk is pretty damn good eating. In Barcelona's markets, there's quite a range of snails and other molluscs for sale. The African giant snail (whose shell can be about 6-inches big) is a land snail that's apparently very nutritious. The smallish seafood/cocktail forks seen in "The Vertical Ray of the Sun" are definitely a French influence. On the other hand with really small snails, you could use a toothpick or bamboo skewer to remove the meat from the shell. (In Hue last year, I observed that practice at a night market.) These forks are great to have around. My mother keeps sets of them for eating small bits of food that require stabbing. This may range from a bowl of cut fruit to pieces of cold cut. When I moved out of the house, she gifted me a set. This is actually a northern Vietnamese specialty called "oc nhoi" (stuff snails -- a terrible, unsexy name for such a magnificent dish!). Traditionally ginger leaves were used instead of lemongrass leaves to form a harness of sorts to handily remove the stuffing from the shell. When I ate oc nhoi in Saigon last year, the ginger leaves were really flavorless, which is perhaps why people now use lemongrass instead. The sauce is typically a ginger-nuoc mam dipping sauce. The snails used, ironically, are very similar in size and looks to what we in the U.S. would identify as the escargot shells that come in plastic tubes. In Vietnam, these snails (oc buu) are harvested from rice paddies, I believe. Oc nhoi is one of my favorite Viet dishes! The herbs are a new addition to the dish. If any of you would like more information on esoteric eating, check out Calvin W. Schwabe's Unmentionable Cuisine (University of Virginia Press, 1979). Andrea

Hong Kong Dave is right -- a little fat is good. You need it for the long cooking. Along with brisket and chuck, try short ribs, outside flank ("gnul nam" Cantonese; "nam" in Vietnamese), beef tendon or oxtail. The outside flank is often used for making Chinese stews and braised dishes; you'll find it at Chinese and Vietnamese markets. It's not the same as flank steak, and texturally is loosey-goosey seeming. Blanching the entire piece first first will not only allow you to remove the impurities but also enable you to more easily cut it into chunks. It's tasty, rich and beefy! Enjoy, Andrea

Jo-mel, Through "The Modern Art of Chinese Cooking" Barbara Tropp will always be right there in your kitchen with you! That was her style. I have two copies -- just in case one falls apart! Tropp mentions Irene Kuo in that work and Kuo's "Keys to Chinese Cooking" is a classic. Fuschia Dunlop's recent work on Sichuan food, "Land of Plenty" will burn a little fire in your belly; her research is along the line of Tropp's. Grace Young's "Wisdom from the Chinese Kitchen" has terrific Cantonese recipes and provides cultural context. Happy eating and cooking, Andrea

Thanks for the info on Richter's and the leads on seeds. I'm going to add them to my website. Now it's time to plant! Cheers, Andrea

Sounds like pho is the 'have it your way' soup for the world. As it's spread all over, beginning from north to south Vietnam, and then via the Vietnamese diaspora, it's quickly shifted and changed identity. In 30 years it's become a pretty international phenomena. Over a zillion bowls served? "Authenticity" is a sticky issue and really resides in the heart and soul of the person preparing the food. As with any art form (cooking is one of them, of course!), you need to learn the fundamentals/classics before you can riff with confidence to invent something new. This grounding is essential. So whether you choose to squirt or not, that's your personal preference. But it's good to get some background info under your belt before you dive into the bowl, no? Also, if you've ever spent the time to make pho at home, the 3 hours that it takes to cook the soup broth would be wasted by the intrusion of hoisin and sriracha. Yeah, you might as well just doctor up a can of Swanson's beef broth and boil some noodles. Yup, guppymo, you're right on target. "Ngo gai" is thorny cilantro and you're in the land of the truly authentic if you have some of the long leaves on the herb plate. It's got an intensely cilantro flavor without that soapiness that some folks hate. It tends to be pricey stuff but I've heard that you can buy it cheaply in Latino markets in the gulf states. "Ngo gai" originally from South America where it grows splendidly in the heat. Known as "culantro" it's popular in the Caribbean. You can grow the stuff from seed (try richters.com) or score a plant at a Viet market during the spring and summer months. I was at the Oakland, CA farmer's market and bought some from Viet farmers who came down from the Stockton area. Yes, "Vietnamese mint" is used throughout Vietnam. It's really not a mint and neither is it "Vietnamese cilantro" or "Vietnamese hot mint" -- which are the weird monikers ascribed to it sometimes in the States. It's just "rau ram" (raw rahm). Rau ram gives a great spicy-cilantro-like note to food. There's a terrific spicy chicken cabbage salad (goi bap cai ga) that just sings when you add rau ram to it. People who enjoy half-hatched duck eggs (hot vit lon) pair it with rau ram to cut the richness. I know it sounds gruesome...but it's a cultural thing! Rau ram is super easy to grow too, and will weather light frost in winter, popping out new leaves as things warm up. I used to live in L.A. and have often wondered about that place. The photo of the bowl looks pretty good. For me, a terrific bowl of pho boils down to the broth. The reason being is that the rest of the stuff is rather superfluous. The broth is the canvas and it also enrobes all the elements. Nothing else is salted or spiced but the broth. So if your broth (without squirts of anything) is clear (not rushed by boiling, which clouds things) and tasty (salty-sweet with some delicate spice notes from star anise, cinnamon and cloves), it's a good one! There's probably a little MSG in the broth -- that's like a must have -- but MSG can't mask bad cooking. An excellent bowl of pho leaves a wonderful beefiness that lingers on your lips for hours. Happy eating, Andrea

Thanks for visiting the site. I'm glad you like it. As for the peppers, I have never seen anything but jalapeno at pho joints in America. I can't understand it. When you put a slice of Southeast Asian chili into the bowl, you smell the perfume of heat and then taste the hot. What's a pho lover to do? Bring a stash of chili slices? That would send a message, huh? If you want to try growing different kinds of chilis, Evergreen Seeds has some pretty interesting strains. With the heat in Southern California, you should gets some great chilis. Would you tell me more about Korean versions of pho? I used to live in LA but left before that craze started. What does it taste like? What do you like or dislike about it? Where's a good place to try it? Where's a bad place to try it? How does pho appeal to the Korean palate? I'd love to get your insights! Thanks, Andrea

Nick, I think your restaurant prepped it themselves. In the U.S. you can get pre-shredded green papaya and carrot but not banana bud. On the other hand, the inventive Vietnamese may be figuring out how to do this right now as I type!! Instead of the acidulated water, you can blanch the sliced banana blossom to get rid of the astringency. Note that this will alter the consistency of what you get -- a beautiful pewter tangle that's lost some of the burgundy charm of the slightly crunchy raw bud. To tell you the truth, I kinda like it blanched. Here's what you do: Bring a pot of water to boil and drop the slices in. Once it comes back to a boil, drain it immediately. Drain it well in a colander, pressing on it to remove excess water. For color and texture, try adding about 1/2 pound of bean sprouts or a finely julliened carrot to the blanching process. Herb-wise, try finely chopped mint or rau kinh gioi (a Vietnamese balm). If you want more info on this herb, visit the Essential Viet Herb page. As with many Asian foods, banana blossom is mostly about texture. It has little taste on its own. Once that you've been able to manipulate it to get rid of the astringency, you can go to town to create your own delicious salad! Good luck,

Is it plum or hoisin sauce? It's hoisin sauce -- always. I've never seen plum sauce on the table at a Viet restaurant in America. The reason why it's there, to tell you the truth, is that when you order a bowl of pho with meat (beef and tendon) balls, the hoisin is used to dip the beef balls in right before delivery to your mouth and down your gullet. A good beefy, aromatic pho stock would be ruined by the addition of hoisin to the stock. Would you add ketchup to a delicious bowl of western chicken noodle soup? I think not. Similarly, adding squirts of sriracha to a good bowl of pho would also kill it. Pho stock takes a good 3 hours to cook. The delicacy of it would be dramatically altered with sriracha. But maybe when the stock bland or overly sweetened with sugar, that's what you need! Northern vs. southern pho Pho is a northern specialty. Northern Vietnamese are traditionalists and relatively conservative. What's in the bowl is what you eat. No adding much of anything in terms of condiments. (Why do you think the seat of Viet Nam's political power is in Hanoi?) Southerners are brash, boastful and innovative. That's why the condiment plate comes with each bowl - to let diners do the final cooking. Saigon is freewheeling and fun. Herbs + chilies Mint (hung lui, spearmint) should also be part of the condiment dish, but is rarely included in the U.S. Try it out as a final addition, and you'll be quite pleased. Additionally, those slices of insipid jalapeno peppers that are on the plates should go! They should be slices of chilies akin to the Thai bird pepper - hot and fragrant. This is a bizzare aspect of how pho morphed when it was brought here from the motherland. Pho and pot-au-feu? No way. The French couldn't have inspired pho. France influenced many aspects of Vietnamese food and cooking, but pho employs elements that are very Chinese. Who colonized Vietnam longer? The Chinese, for a total of 1,000 years. Happy eating and cooking!

Banana blossom (it's actually a bud if you think of horticultural terms) needs to cut extremely thin and immediately dropped into acidulated water to prevent discoloration. The tongue-coating quality that was mentioned earlier is really displeasing. In Vietnamese, we say it's "chat" (ch-AHT). The soaking in acidulated water (lime juice and water, maybe 2 to 3 fat limes to 3-4 quarts of water) mitigates the astringency. In Vietnam you buy the pre-cut bud at the markets. Yes, avoid the inner core and toss out the flowers. It's the tender petals you want. I imagine you know what goes into the rest of the salad? It's the normal cast of characters that comprise Viet salads, herbs, chopped roasted peanuts, a little shredded cooked protein. There are fanciful modern versions of this and I imagine that's what you enjoyed. Keep cooking and eating, Andrea Nguyen