Went shopping in the big city and had a nice steaming bowl of Pho for
lunch.
So how do you eat a bowl of Pho and not dribble on your shirt?
Pam

Steve Wertz wrote:
> On 14 Jan 2006 16:00:37 -0800, "pamjd" > wrote:
>
>>Went shopping in the big city and had a nice steaming bowl of Pho for
>>lunch.
>>So how do you eat a bowl of Pho and not dribble on your shirt?
>
> I hate those damn spoons. Just pick up the bowl and drink. Eat
> the solids with a fork (assuming they have forks).
>
> -sw

I love those spoons, I have two sets at home and when I make soups like that
or udon soup or whatever I eat it with those spoons and a set of chopsticks.

--
..:Heather:.
www.velvet-c.com
Step off, beyotches, I'm the roflpimp!

pamjd wrote:
> Went shopping in the big city and had a nice steaming bowl of Pho for
> lunch.
> So how do you eat a bowl of Pho and not dribble on your shirt?
> Pam
>

I don't dribble on my shirt, but if I get the kind with the shrimp and pork
won tons I inevitably have one slip out of my chopsticks and splash me.

--
..:Heather:.
www.velvet-c.com
Step off, beyotches, I'm the roflpimp!

Steve Wertz wrote:
> On Sun, 15 Jan 2006 00:22:55 GMT, The Bubbo >
> wrote:
>
>>Steve Wertz wrote:
>
>>> I hate those damn spoons. Just pick up the bowl and drink. Eat
>>> the solids with a fork (assuming they have forks).
>
>>I love those spoons, I have two sets at home and when I make soups like that
>>or udon soup or whatever I eat it with those spoons and a set of chopsticks.
>
> My lips are simply incompatible with those spoons.
>
> -sw

that's a great way to put it. I don't know what it is, but I love the way they
feel.

--
..:Heather:.
www.velvet-c.com
Step off, beyotches, I'm the roflpimp!

Bubbabob wrote:

> "pamjd" > wrote:
>
>
>>Went shopping in the big city and had a nice steaming bowl of Pho for
>>lunch.
>>So how do you eat a bowl of Pho and not dribble on your shirt?
>>Pam
>>
>>
>
>
> It's very difficult. I wear pho colored shirts <g>.

I get splashes on my shirt from the noodles. I just wear a print shirt
and don't worry about it. :-)

--Charlene


--
Plagiarism: Failure to adorn stolen ideas with footnotes, as opposed to
scholarship, which repeatedly acknowledges the theft. -- Bayan, Rick;
The Cynic's Dictionary, 2002


email perronnelle at earthlink . net

The next time you go there look for the Vietnamese that are eating/slurping
pho[pronounced 'pha', or 'pha ga', the latter for chicken].
You slurp the noodle, and eat the contents at the last moment. It's an art.
You have to do this with the Asian porcelein spoon, chopstix, and the
willingness to slurp.
Slurps to all,
Kent
"pamjd" > wrote in message
oups.com...
> Went shopping in the big city and had a nice steaming bowl of Pho for
> lunch.
> So how do you eat a bowl of Pho and not dribble on your shirt?
> Pam
>

Kent a écrit :

> pho[pronounced 'pha', or 'pha ga', the latter for chicken].

Sorry to correct your pronounciation. After conferring with my
vietnamese friends, it seems that you pronounce the "o" in pho like the
"u", only much shorter, in "burn".
But then, it all depends in what country you are
....
Peter

In article .com>,
"pamjd" > wrote:

> Went shopping in the big city and had a nice steaming bowl of Pho for
> lunch.
> So how do you eat a bowl of Pho and not dribble on your shirt?
> Pam
>

Let each fork full drain first. ;-)

Or just wear a bib! <lol>

I get duck pho now and then and Kim Phung's in Austin...

Damn that stuff is good!
--
Om.

"My mother never saw the irony in calling me a son-of-a-bitch." -Jack Nicholson

In article >,
Steve Wertz > wrote:

> On 14 Jan 2006 16:00:37 -0800, "pamjd" > wrote:
>
> >Went shopping in the big city and had a nice steaming bowl of Pho for
> >lunch.
> >So how do you eat a bowl of Pho and not dribble on your shirt?
>
> I hate those damn spoons. Just pick up the bowl and drink. Eat
> the solids with a fork (assuming they have forks).
>
> -sw

Barbarian... ;-)

I have some of those spoons at home so I'm practiced!

I use chopsticks for the solids...
--
Om.

"My mother never saw the irony in calling me a son-of-a-bitch." -Jack Nicholson

In article >,
The Bubbo > wrote:

> pamjd wrote:
> > Went shopping in the big city and had a nice steaming bowl of Pho for
> > lunch.
> > So how do you eat a bowl of Pho and not dribble on your shirt?
> > Pam
> >
>
> I don't dribble on my shirt, but if I get the kind with the shrimp and pork
> won tons I inevitably have one slip out of my chopsticks and splash me.

Stab it. ;-)

There is more than one way to use chopsticks!
--
Om.

"My mother never saw the irony in calling me a son-of-a-bitch." -Jack Nicholson

In article >,
Steve Wertz > wrote:

> On Sun, 15 Jan 2006 00:22:55 GMT, The Bubbo >
> wrote:
>
> >Steve Wertz wrote:
>
> >> I hate those damn spoons. Just pick up the bowl and drink. Eat
> >> the solids with a fork (assuming they have forks).
>
> >I love those spoons, I have two sets at home and when I make soups like that
> >or udon soup or whatever I eat it with those spoons and a set of chopsticks.
>
> My lips are simply incompatible with those spoons.
>
> -sw

Do I really want to ask??????

ROFL!!!
--
Om.

"My mother never saw the irony in calling me a son-of-a-bitch." -Jack Nicholson

In article >,
"Kent" > wrote:

> The next time you go there look for the Vietnamese that are eating/slurping
> pho[pronounced 'pha', or 'pha ga', the latter for chicken].
> You slurp the noodle, and eat the contents at the last moment. It's an art.
> You have to do this with the Asian porcelein spoon, chopstix, and the
> willingness to slurp.
> Slurps to all,
> Kent

And don't forget to burp. ;-)

It's polite.
--
Om.

"My mother never saw the irony in calling me a son-of-a-bitch." -Jack Nicholson

Whatever. It's still faux pax in my diet.
I'm not big on tendons and other awful offal.

Steve Wertz wrote:

> My lips are simply incompatible with those spoons.
>
> -sw

LOL... wonderful phrase... spent the last five minutes trying to
picture what spoon-incompatible lips look like...

Karen MacInerney
Kitchen experimenter, family chauffeur, and culinary mystery author
www.karenmacinerney.com

In article >,
Steve Wertz > wrote:

> On 15 Jan 2006 09:01:07 -0800, "Karen MacInerney"
> > wrote:
>
> >
> >Steve Wertz wrote:
> >
> >> My lips are simply incompatible with those spoons.
> >
> >LOL... wonderful phrase... spent the last five minutes trying to
> >picture what spoon-incompatible lips look like...
>
> I want to be able to pull the contents out with my lips (like most
> people do with any normal spoon). These spoon are too deep to get
> your (errr, at least my) lips all the way into them to be able to
> do that.
>
> And if you try and just pour the contents into your mouth, you end
> up dribbling because of the awkward angles of the spoon, not to
> mention what runs down the outside.
>
> -sw

Point the spoon forward.
Take the liquid from the front, not the side. :-)
--
Om.

"My mother never saw the irony in calling me a son-of-a-bitch." -Jack Nicholson

peter wrote:

> it seems that you pronounce the "o" in pho like the "u", only much
> shorter, in "burn". But then, it all depends in what country you are

My Vietnamese friends laugh when I try to pronouce it. They say it,
almost like it was a question (fuhh), with their voice getting high at
the end. I tried, but I'm hopeless.

Good idea, to those who suggested that we wear pho colored shirts. LOL

Becca

Becca wrote:
> My Vietnamese friends laugh when I try to pronouce it. They say it,
> almost like it was a question (fuhh), with their voice getting high at
> the end. I tried, but I'm hopeless.

Say "foot", but forget the "t".

--Blair
"Extra jalapeno for me, thanks."

On 14 Jan 2006 16:00:37 -0800, I needed a babel fish to understand
"pamjd" > :

>Went shopping in the big city and had a nice steaming bowl of Pho for
>lunch.
>So how do you eat a bowl of Pho and not dribble on your shirt?
>Pam

Use chopsticks... and eat over the bowl... but in reality... just
don't wear white... and darker colors are preferred, cuz you gunna get
splashed.

Oh I love Pho. Pho Tai (thinly sliced round steak).


----------------------------------------
"Any sufficiently advanced technology is
indistinguishable from magic."
- Arthur C. Clarke

On Sun, 15 Jan 2006 13:09:23 -0600, I needed a babel fish to
understand OmManiPadmeOmelet > :

>In article >,
> Steve Wertz > wrote:

>> And if you try and just pour the contents into your mouth, you end
>> up dribbling because of the awkward angles of the spoon, not to
>> mention what runs down the outside.
>>
>> -sw
>
>Point the spoon forward.
>Take the liquid from the front, not the side. :-)

I was just about to say the same thing.... drink from the tip not the
long sides.
----------------------------------------
"Any sufficiently advanced technology is
indistinguishable from magic."
- Arthur C. Clarke

On Sun, 15 Jan 2006 10:10:50 +0100, I needed a babel fish to
understand peter > :

>Kent a écrit :
>
>> pho[pronounced 'pha', or 'pha ga', the latter for chicken].
>
>Sorry to correct your pronounciation. After conferring with my
>vietnamese friends, it seems that you pronounce the "o" in pho like the
>"u", only much shorter, in "burn".
>But then, it all depends in what country you are
>...
>Peter

Interesting, I have heard it pronounced Pho with a solid O like in
"over". as well as phuh like the first part of "fun" as well as
the pha. All of these ways to pronounce have been given to me by
vietnamise. The most common has been the phuh like in fun.

----------------------------------------
"Any sufficiently advanced technology is
indistinguishable from magic."
- Arthur C. Clarke

On Mon, 23 Jan 2006 17:08:47 GMT, I needed a babel fish to understand
LewZephyr > :

>On Sun, 15 Jan 2006 10:10:50 +0100, I needed a babel fish to
>understand peter > :
>
>>Kent a écrit :
>>
>>> pho[pronounced 'pha', or 'pha ga', the latter for chicken].
>>
>>Sorry to correct your pronounciation. After conferring with my
>>vietnamese friends, it seems that you pronounce the "o" in pho like the
>>"u", only much shorter, in "burn".
>>But then, it all depends in what country you are
>>...
>>Peter
>
>Interesting, I have heard it pronounced Pho with a solid O like in
>"over". as well as phuh like the first part of "fun" as well as
>the pha. All of these ways to pronounce have been given to me by
>vietnamise. The most common has been the phuh like in fun.

Oh this reminds me... the friend that turned me on to Pho, had a sorta
joke plan to start his own pho resturant.

The resturant was gunna be called Pho Q (remember pho pronounced as
fu as in fun)
with various bowls...

for kids the pho cup
for adults the pho king

I still smile when I hear it.
----------------------------------------
"Any sufficiently advanced technology is
indistinguishable from magic."
- Arthur C. Clarke

In article >,
LewZephyr > wrote:

> On Sun, 15 Jan 2006 13:09:23 -0600, I needed a babel fish to
> understand OmManiPadmeOmelet > :
>
> >In article >,
> > Steve Wertz > wrote:
>
> >> And if you try and just pour the contents into your mouth, you end
> >> up dribbling because of the awkward angles of the spoon, not to
> >> mention what runs down the outside.
> >>
> >> -sw
> >
> >Point the spoon forward.
> >Take the liquid from the front, not the side. :-)
>
> I was just about to say the same thing.... drink from the tip not the
> long sides.

;-d

Works for moi!
--
Om.

"My mother never saw the irony in calling me a son-of-a-bitch." -Jack Nicholson

In article >,
LewZephyr > wrote:

> On Mon, 23 Jan 2006 17:08:47 GMT, I needed a babel fish to understand
> LewZephyr > :
>
> >On Sun, 15 Jan 2006 10:10:50 +0100, I needed a babel fish to
> >understand peter > :
> >
> >>Kent a écrit :
> >>
> >>> pho[pronounced 'pha', or 'pha ga', the latter for chicken].
> >>
> >>Sorry to correct your pronounciation. After conferring with my
> >>vietnamese friends, it seems that you pronounce the "o" in pho like the
> >>"u", only much shorter, in "burn".
> >>But then, it all depends in what country you are
> >>...
> >>Peter
> >
> >Interesting, I have heard it pronounced Pho with a solid O like in
> >"over". as well as phuh like the first part of "fun" as well as
> >the pha. All of these ways to pronounce have been given to me by
> >vietnamise. The most common has been the phuh like in fun.
>
> Oh this reminds me... the friend that turned me on to Pho, had a sorta
> joke plan to start his own pho resturant.
>
> The resturant was gunna be called Pho Q (remember pho pronounced as
> fu as in fun)
> with various bowls...
>
> for kids the pho cup
> for adults the pho king
>
> I still smile when I hear it.
> ----------------------------------------

That's just bad...
and I love it! ;-D
--
Om.

"My mother never saw the irony in calling me a son-of-a-bitch." -Jack Nicholson

In article >,
Steve Wertz > wrote:

> On Mon, 23 Jan 2006 17:01:42 GMT, LewZephyr
> > wrote:
>
> >On Sun, 15 Jan 2006 13:09:23 -0600, I needed a babel fish to
> >understand OmManiPadmeOmelet > :
> >
> >>In article >,
> >> Steve Wertz > wrote:
> >
> >>> And if you try and just pour the contents into your mouth, you end
> >>> up dribbling because of the awkward angles of the spoon, not to
> >>> mention what runs down the outside.
> >>
> >>Point the spoon forward.
> >>Take the liquid from the front, not the side. :-)
> >
> >I was just about to say the same thing.... drink from the tip not the
> >long sides.
>
> That's how I use all spoons. Only women and sissies eat from the
> side of the spoon.
>
> I like to be able to pull the stuff off the spoon, not just open
> wide and dump it in. While those spoons may work for just the
> broth, they don't work for anything solid - like noodles, meat or
> veggies that also come in the soup.
>
> -sw

Uh, that's what the chopsticks are for...

Wuss. ;-)
--
Om.

"My mother never saw the irony in calling me a son-of-a-bitch." -Jack Nicholson

In article >,
LewZephyr > wrote:


> Oh this reminds me... the friend that turned me on to Pho, had a sorta
> joke plan to start his own pho resturant.
>
> The resturant was gunna be called Pho Q (remember pho pronounced as
> fu as in fun)
> with various bowls...
>
> for kids the pho cup
> for adults the pho king

When I open my restaurant, I'll call it "The House of Maison de Casa",
and the specialty will be roast beef with au jus sauce.

:-)

--
Dan Abel

Petaluma, California, USA

Dan Abel wrote:
>
> When I open my restaurant, I'll call it "The House of Maison de Casa",
> and the specialty will be roast beef with au jus sauce.
>
> :-)
>
That menu will also include Coq au Vin with Red Wine Sauce? -aem

In article .com>,
"aem" > wrote:

> Dan Abel wrote:
> >
> > When I open my restaurant, I'll call it "The House of Maison de Casa",
> > and the specialty will be roast beef with au jus sauce.
> >
> > :-)
> >
> That menu will also include Coq au Vin with Red Wine Sauce? -aem

No, no, no! You don't understand at all!

That's Chicken Coq au Vin with Red Wine Sauce.

:-)

--
Dan Abel

Petaluma, California, USA

"aem" > writes:
> That menu will also include Coq au Vin with Red Wine Sauce? -aem

Does that come with rice pilaf?

What about the today's soup du jour of the day?

--
Richard W Kaszeta

http://www.kaszeta.org/rich

peter > wrote:

> Sorry to correct your pronounciation. After conferring with my
> vietnamese friends, it seems that you pronounce the "o" in pho like the
> "u", only much shorter, in "burn".
> But then, it all depends in what country you are
> ...

This is close to how the local Vietnamese pronounce it, too. In fact,
it is even closer to the French "feu", perhaps not so surprising
considering that pho, both the word and the dish, is said by some to
derive from the French pot-au-feu, a hypothesis mentioned kindly by R.
W. Apple Jr., among others. He once wrote a great article about pho and
I would be willing to post it, if there is a demand.

Victor

In article >,
(Victor Sack) wrote:

> derive from the French pot-au-feu, a hypothesis mentioned kindly by R.
> W. Apple Jr., among others. He once wrote a great article about pho and
> I would be willing to post it, if there is a demand.
>
> Victor

Hit it, Louie!
--
http://www.jamlady.eboard.com, updated 1-15-2006, RIP Connie Drew

In article >,
LewZephyr > wrote:
(snip)

> Oh this reminds me... the friend that turned me on to Pho, had a sorta
> joke plan to start his own pho resturant.
>
> The resturant was gunna be called Pho Q (remember pho pronounced as
> fu as in fun)
> with various bowls...
>
> for kids the pho cup
> for adults the pho king
>
> I still smile when I hear it.

Oldest son of the folks who owned Cam Ranh Bay restaurant here is named
Paul. Actually, his name is Phuc, but they changed it for obvious
reasons.
--
http://www.jamlady.eboard.com, updated 1-15-2006, RIP Connie Drew

In article >,
Dan Abel > wrote:
> When I open my restaurant, I'll call it "The House of Maison de Casa",
> and the specialty will be roast beef with au jus sauce.
>
> :-)

LOL! Good 'un, Dan.
--
http://www.jamlady.eboard.com, updated 1-15-2006, RIP Connie Drew

Richard Kaszeta wrote:
> "aem" > writes:
> > That menu will also include Coq au Vin with Red Wine Sauce? -aem
>
> Does that come with rice pilaf?
>
> What about the today's soup du jour of the day?

Macaroni and cheese au gratin.

Welsh rarebit on toast.

Char-broiled *

Spicy jalapeno *

--Blair
"The list continues on..."

Melba's Jammin' > wrote:

> (Victor Sack) wrote:
>
> > derive from the French pot-au-feu, a hypothesis mentioned kindly by R.
> > W. Apple Jr., among others. He once wrote a great article about pho and
> > I would be willing to post it, if there is a demand.
>
> Hit it, Louie!

Here you are.

Bubba


Looking Up an Old Love on the Streets of Vietnam

By R. W. Apple Jr.

She used to walk past my little villa in Saigon, not far from the
American embassy, her conical straw hat on the back of her head, white
pajamas flapping as she loped down the street, soup makings dangling
from the wooden yoke across her frail shoulders. She came early every
morning, repeating the monosyllable with an inimitable inflection.

"Pho," she called, her voice gentle and plaintive. "Pho."

That was 35 years ago, and I took it for granted that the delectable,
aromatic noodle soup she sold, crowned with a lush tangle of green
herbs, had originated many generations ago in the fertile Mekong Delta.
Wrong on both counts, as I discovered when I finally returned not long
ago to this ancient land that struggled so fiercely for freedom. Pho was
developed by cooks in Hanoi, not in the south, and not until after the
French arrived late in the 19th century, importing their love of beef to
a pork-eating culture.

The name might have given me a clue. "Pho" is pronounced almost exactly
like "feu," the French word for fire, as in pot-au-feu. Did Vietnamese
cooks learn its secrets while toiling in the kitchens of colonial
masters? Some think so; others think it evolved from Chinese models,
like the Vietnamese language and the people themselves.

Today it is a national passion, beloved across the country in hamlets as
in cities. It is almost as widely available in the United States, where
few big cities lack a pho shop, and some, like Washington, have dozens.

In Hanoi, pho is a cult. It is served in alleyways and on street corners
all over town, usually on low plastic tables, surrounded by even lower
plastic stools, only about 12 inches high, that always make me feel like
a circus elephant trying to balance on a ball. These are set on the
sidewalk, in the gutter and even in the roadway; the Vietnamese give
special meaning to the phrase "street food."

Here the soothing broth is paler than in the United States or in Ho Chi
Minh City (Saigon's official name, HCMC for short). The rice noodles are
more delicately translucent, and fewer embellishments are added than in
the more indulgent south. The result is light and thrillingly
restorative. On a good day, I think I could eat three bowls and leave
under my own power.

My wife, Betsey, and I stopped in at Mai Anh, one of a string of
open-air pho shops on Le Van Huu Street, which runs along the southern
edge of Hanoi's bustling French Quarter. Stock made by simmering oxtails
and marrow bones for 24 hours, along with onions, star anise, ginger and
cinnamon bark, was bubbling away in a cauldron perched on a charcoal
stove. Bowls of various meats -- cooked chicken, giblets, paper-thin raw
sirloin, pig hearts -- awaited our inspection. We chose beef.

If you choose chicken, you will be eating pho ga; if you choose beef,
you will be eating pho bo. I don't imagine for a minute that you'll
choose pig hearts.

The pho-meister dunks a sieve full of flat, precooked noodles into a pot
of boiling water (so they do not cool the soup), drains them and slides
them into a bowl. Thinly sliced onions and chopped coriander leaves go
in next, along with shavings of ginger. Then the blood-red beef, and
last a few ladles of hot stock, which cooks the meat in a few seconds
while giving off a fragrant, enveloping cloud of steam.

On the table are spring onions, red chili sauce and vinegar with garlic
slices to enrich your meal-in-a-bowl, plus several lime wedges. A
southerner would feel deprived without some bean sprouts, and without a
plate heaped high with herbs -- rau que, or Asian basil; earthy ngo gai,
or sawleaf herb; and once in a great while rau ram, or Vietnamese
coriander. But the northerners are ascetics compared with their southern
cousins. Still influenced by the puritanical Confucianism of their
Chinese neighbors, they prefer their flavors pure, unadorned and
crystal-clear.

As you will find when you dig in -- chopsticks in one hand, plastic
spoon in the other -- no sacrifice of heartiness or complexity is
entailed. Mix and slurp, sniff and gulp to your heart's content, for
less than $1.

For some reason the snarl of the motorbikes as they stream past, all but
nipping at your ankles, is no distraction. Maybe because it's so much
fun to watch your fellow eaters, especially if some are novices. We saw
an eager if inept German woman get through her soup by coiling her
noodles around her chopsticks with her free hand.

The Vietnamese wax poetic about pho, assigning it a central and unifying
place in their culture. Duong Thu Huong, a novelist, rhapsodized about
walking the streets, inhaling the soup's subtle perfume as it rises from
the stockpots. Huu Ngoc, a social historian, sees it as a symbol of the
national fight for self-determination: even in the darkest times, when
the wars against the French and Americans were going badly, the
Vietnamese were always free to express themselves by making and eating
pho, their own culinary creation.

"It was complete, nutritious, infinitely delicious and yet so easy to
digest," he recalled a few years ago, "that we could eat it morning and
night, day after day." And so the northerners do, looking down upon the
southerners, who eat their pho mainly at breakfast and occasionally at
lunch.

For the Vietnamese, even those who left the country long ago, pho tends
to stir memories, the way a madeleine did for Proust. I, too, was
ambushed by the past. A bowl of bun bo Hue, the imperial capital's
spicier version of pho, made with round noodles, beef, pork, lemon grass
and whole chilies, carried me back to the turbulent days of the Buddhist
uprising of 1966, when John D. Negroponte, now the United States
representative at the United Nations, was in charge of the American
consulate in Hue, on the very street where I was eating.

Our friend Mai Pham, who was born in Saigon, runs a hugely successful
Vietnamese restaurant, Lemon Grass, in Sacramento. She also writes
cookbooks, most recently "Pleasures of the Vietnamese Table"
(HarperCollins, 2001), and she has developed a refrigerated pho stock
base, marketed to restaurants and institutions by StockPot, a subsidiary
of the Campbell Soup Company.

Why, I asked her recently, does pho fascinate you so much?

"It's so beefy!" she exclaimed with a smile and without hesitation. "For
me, it's the ultimate comfort food. You smell the soup's perfume, and
it's so beefy!"

Her husband, Greg Drescher, director of education at the Napa Valley
campus of the Culinary Institute of America, chimed in. Perhaps for the
Vietnamese, for most of whom beef remains a great luxury, he said, but
not for Americans, for whom it is one of life's commonplaces.

What attracts me is the hypnotic mixture of flavors in the broth,
especially those imparted by spices like star anise and ginger.
Preliminary charring of the onions and ginger adds a smoky undertone. In
the south, the mingling of sweet, sour and salty tastes is further
augmented by a few dashes of nuoc mam, the fermented fish sauce that
plays the same role in Vietnam that soy plays in much of Asia. The
clearest and most pungent comes from Phu Quoc island, off the south
coast.

No one has ever accused me of being a minimalist; when I'm lucky enough
to land within range of an In-N-Out burger joint, for example, I order
my double double with the works. So it's no surprise that I load up my
pho with a couple of squeezes of lime juice, a scattering of bean
sprouts (if they're sufficiently crunchy), a disk or two of hot green
chili and a variety of herb leaves, pulled carefully from their stems.

That's the Saigon style: a bowl of soup and a salad, all in one.

Saigon, or HCMC, to be proper about it, has a range of soup shops, from
tiny ones in the Hanoi style to a few pho factories like Pho 2000, near
the Ben Thanh market, which Bill Clinton put on the map by eating there.
Occasionally, a gifted, energetic cook will make pho at home -- a major
task, given the time needed to make the broth -- and one of the best
bowls we ate was served to us at home by Nguyen Huu Hoang Trang, a
veteran of restaurant kitchens.

So fine was her touch that every one of the key ingredients, from
cinnamon to anise to ginger to onions, was individually discernible in
the perfumed steam that rose from the soup, and in the flavor, too.

You could miss my favorite breakfast place in downtown Saigon if you got
there at the wrong time of day, which is anytime after about 11 in the
morning. There is no sign, and most of the furnishings disappear after
the close of business.

Run by a tiny, wizened man whom people call Chu Sau, which means Sixth
Uncle, it consists of a few battered Formica tables in a gloomy alley
covered with a corrugated tin roof, plus several of those diabolically
low tables and chairs, murder for my aging knees, on the sidewalk. The
address is 39 Mac Thi Buoi, two long blocks from the Caravelle Hotel,
toward the river.

Chu Sau's limpid pho comes with a bowl of notably crisp mung bean
sprouts, hoisin sauce (best avoided, I think, because it muddies the
soup's flavor) and an unusually bright orange chili sauce, as well as
Asian basil and fuzzy-leafed mint. What set it apart, for me, was the
mellowness of the amber-hued broth, in which the taste of cinnamon was
pronounced. It glittered in the mouth, the way homemade bouillon does
and beef stock made from a cube doesn't.

The noodles were perfectly al dente, if you will permit a solecism, and
I enjoyed them so much that I didn't even give myself a demerit when I
splashed chili sauce all over my white polo shirt.

Pho Dau, located in a courtyard off Nam Ky Khoi Nghia Boulevard, which
leads to the airport, is an entirely different kettle of soup. During
the war, it was a hangout for South Vietnamese generals; now it is a
haunt of the new, privileged capitalists, whose Mercedes S.U.V.'s and
$6,000 Honda motorbikes are parked out front. Bits of beef cartilage and
tendon enrich its broth, as do quantities of coriander.

With our pho, we drank glasses of fabulously smooth ca phe sua da, which
is Vietnamese filter coffee, served iced with condensed milk. As we
watched the well-dressed customers eating pho for breakfast, we talked
about how odd soup seems to us Americans as a daily curtain-raiser. But
it isn't that strange, really: the Japanese eat miso; the Chinese eat
congee, a soupy porridge; the French (particularly Parisians) eat onion
soup after a night on the town; and the Hungarians eat
sauerkraut-and-sausage soup to ease a hangover.

Pho Hoa, an open-front restaurant on Pasteur Street, is less grubby and
more cosmopolitan than most noodle shops, with comfortable tables and
chairs. I learned some more lessons there, even though it came late on
our soup schedule. Lesson 1: the richness that characterizes well-made
pho broth comes not from fat, which must be skimmed from the broth, but
from marrow. Lesson 2: you can order not only rare beef (tai) in your
pho, but also well-done beef (chin) and fatty beef (gau).

My teachers were the affable gent at the next table, Lam-Hoang Nguyen, a
visiting Vietnamese restaurateur from Thunder Bay, Ontario, on Lake
Superior, and his wife, Kim-Ha Lai.

"When we come back," he confided after a while, "we always go right into
the street. The street is where you find the quality in Saigon -- not in
hotels."

That's good advice, not only in HCMC, and not only when you want a bowl
of pho. Vietnam is full of quick, fresh, readily available nibbles, and
many people eat four or five mini-meals every day.

In the main Saigon market, Ben Thanh, where you can buy a suitcase, look
live snakes in the eye, shop for spices and snack the day away, we
discovered bun thit nuong -- an irresistible combination of vermicelli
threads tossed in scallion oil, topped with lettuce, strips of barbecued
pork, cucumber and carrot slices and peanuts, and dressed with nuoc
cham, a luscious sauce made from nuoc mam diluted with water, sugar,
lime juice and chilies. Sweet and tart, bland and spicy, soft and
crunchy, ample but light, it made a luscious hot-weather lunch early one
afternoon.

No wonder Mr. Drescher always makes a point of heading for the market to
eat bun thit as soon as he steps off the plane from California.

One evening at Anh Thi, one of several Saigon crepe shops in narrow Dinh
Cong Trang Street, we watched orange tongues of flame dart from
underneath charcoal braziers to lick at the dusk. The crepes are called
banh xeo, the word "xeo" an onomatopoeic rendering of the sound of
batter hitting the pan.

The cooks sit on low benches in front of batteries of braziers topped
with 12-inch pans; they control the speed of cooking by shifting pans
from one fire to another. The crepes are yet another example of the
Vietnamese genius for combining inexpensive ingredients to produce
lively but never overpowering tastes and intriguing textures. In this
case the secrets are a light, bright crepe batter made with rice powder,
coconut milk, local curry powder and turmeric; a filling of shrimp, bean
sprouts and unsmoked bacon; and, as is so often the case here, a wrap
and a dip.

You tear off a piece of crepe, wrap it in a mustard-green leaf with an
aroma so sharp that it made me sneeze, add a chili and some mint, and
dip the whole package in peppery, faintly sweet, faintly fishy nuoc
cham. The special crepe, with an extra-large portion of shrimp, cost all
of $1.35.

"Delicious, nutritious and cheap," Betsey said. "I think that's a pretty
tough combination to beat."

At Lac Thien in Hue, whose proprietors are deaf-mutes, we sampled the
local version of crepes, known as banh khoai, or "happy pancakes,"
served at steel-topped tables. These are smaller, about six inches in
diameter, sweeter and eggier. They are served not with mustard greens
but with coriander and mint, and not with nuoc cham but with a fermented
soybean sauce.

Cha Ca La Vong in Hanoi, owned by the same family for generations,
serves stunning freshwater fish, cubed and braised with turmeric. Dill,
spring onions, peanuts and chilies are at hand to enliven flavor.

Splendid stuff. But except for pho, no street food we ate could touch
the phenomenal fare at Bun Cha Hang Manh in Hanoi's Old Quarter, a
four-story warren of tiny rooms and cracked floors. Crouching women cook
everything on tiny propane stoves in the open-air entrance hall.
"Everything" consists of two items, both of which are the best of their
kind available, in Hanoi or anywhere else, for that matter.

One of them is bun cha, Vietnam's apotheosis of the pig. It consists of
charcoal-grilled strips of belly pork and pork patties the size of a
silver dollar. These arrive at a table laden with a plate of rice
noodles, a plate of red and green lettuce and herbs of every
description, a little bowl of finely chopped young garlic and a bigger
bowl of nuoc cham, with slices of tenderizing papaya bobbing gaily in
it. For hotheads, there are incendiary bird chilies.

Hang Manh's second dish is spring rolls (nem ran in the north and cha
gio in the south) -- great fat ones, as thick as your thumb, packed with
crab, ground pork, wood-ear mushrooms, onions and bean threads. I
noticed right away that the frying oil was changed every few minutes,
and of course the rolls emerged from it crackling, light and greaseless.

"These rolls make the rest of what we've had here taste like so many
Rice Krispies," Betsey announced.

We went twice, at 11:30 a.m. both times, to avoid the throngs that pack
this humble restaurant, while ignoring others serving similar
specialties. We ate until we could eat no more. I wonder: can there be
any better $3 lunch for two, anywhere in the world?

"Melba's Jammin'" > wrote
>
> Oldest son of the folks who owned Cam Ranh Bay restaurant here is named
> Paul. Actually, his name is Phuc, but they changed it for obvious
> reasons.

My gardener is a Ho.

Charlie

In article .com>,
"Blair P. Houghton" > wrote:

> Richard Kaszeta wrote:
> > "aem" > writes:
> > > That menu will also include Coq au Vin with Red Wine Sauce? -aem
> >
> > Does that come with rice pilaf?
> >
> > What about the today's soup du jour of the day?
>
> Macaroni and cheese au gratin.
>
> Welsh rarebit on toast.
>
> Char-broiled *
>
> Spicy jalapeno *
>
> --Blair
> "The list continues on..."

Somewhat related to that, a local "Mexican" sit-down restaurant
offered "Chicken con Queso". I never got to find out if I could
order "Pollo with Cheese" instead.

sd

In article >,
(Victor Sack) wrote:

> Melba's Jammin' > wrote:
>
> > (Victor Sack) wrote:
> >
> > > derive from the French pot-au-feu, a hypothesis mentioned kindly by R.
> > > W. Apple Jr., among others. He once wrote a great article about pho and
> > > I would be willing to post it, if there is a demand.
> >
> > Hit it, Louie!
>
> Here you are.
>
> Bubba
>

> Looking Up an Old Love on the Streets of Vietnam
>
> By R. W. Apple Jr.
>
> She used to walk past my little villa in Saigon, not far from the
> American embassy, her conical straw hat on the back of her head, white
> pajamas flapping as she loped down the street, soup makings dangling
> from the wooden yoke across her frail shoulders. She came early every
> morning, repeating the monosyllable with an inimitable inflection.
>
> "Pho," she called, her voice gentle and plaintive. "Pho."
> (snipped)
> pack this humble restaurant, while ignoring others serving similar
> specialties. We ate until we could eat no more. I wonder: can there
> be any better $3 lunch for two, anywhere in the world?

That was wonderful, Victor. My mouth is watering. Thanks.
--
http://www.jamlady.eboard.com, updated 1-15-2006, RIP Connie Drew

On Mon, 23 Jan 2006 20:21:56 -0600, I needed a babel fish to
understand Melba's Jammin' > :

>In article >,
> Dan Abel > wrote:
>> When I open my restaurant, I'll call it "The House of Maison de Casa",
>> and the specialty will be roast beef with au jus sauce.
>>
>> :-)
>
>LOL! Good 'un, Dan.

I really want to get this.. but it is totally lost on me. could
someone explain?

----------------------------------------
"Any sufficiently advanced technology is
indistinguishable from magic."
- Arthur C. Clarke

In article >,
LewZephyr > wrote:

> On Mon, 23 Jan 2006 20:21:56 -0600, I needed a babel fish to
> understand Melba's Jammin' > :
>
> >In article >,
> > Dan Abel > wrote:
> >> When I open my restaurant, I'll call it "The House of Maison de Casa",
> >> and the specialty will be roast beef with au jus sauce.
> >>
> >> :-)
> >
> >LOL! Good 'un, Dan.
>
> I really want to get this.. but it is totally lost on me. could
> someone explain?

House = Maison (in French) = Casa (en espanol). "-)
The House of House of House

au jus = with juice (in French)
Roast beef with with juice sauce
--
http://www.jamlady.eboard.com, updated 1-15-2006, RIP Connie Drew

In article >,
LewZephyr > wrote:

> On Mon, 23 Jan 2006 20:21:56 -0600, I needed a babel fish to
> understand Melba's Jammin' > :
>
> >In article >,
> > Dan Abel > wrote:
> >> When I open my restaurant, I'll call it "The House of Maison de Casa",
> >> and the specialty will be roast beef with au jus sauce.
> >>
> >> :-)
> >
> >LOL! Good 'un, Dan.
>
> I really want to get this.. but it is totally lost on me. could
> someone explain?
>
> ----------------------------------------
> "Any sufficiently advanced technology is
> indistinguishable from magic."
> - Arthur C. Clarke

de Casa means "the house/home of"

It's redundant. ;-)
--
Om.

"My mother never saw the irony in calling me a son-of-a-bitch." -Jack Nicholson