Pho Bo – Beef Noodle Soup Hanoi Style


Where phở originally came from has proven inconclusive to researchers. From my little bit of digging around in Hanoi (Hà Nội) I found three theories each with their merits, but one in particular sounding the most likely. First off is a nice little theory that phở originated from the French word feu (fire) as in the dish pot-au-feu (a dish of soup, boiled meat and vegetables). The theory is plausible in that phở is pronounced the same as feu, and that it is a soup dish usually served with boiled meat. However, most of the ingredients in phở and pot-au-feu are different, and in the French version the meat is usually eaten separately from the broth whereas in the Vietnamese version the meat is in the broth, along with the noodles (phở).

Second off is the story that phở was invented during French rule by a talented cook in Nam Định City, which at the time was Vietnam’s largest colonial textile centre. The industry there was an amalgamation of French employers and Vietnamese labourers and the chef, whose name I couldn’t find, decided that to please both the colonialists and the locals he would base a soup on noodles (appealing to the Vietnamese) and beef (appealing to the French) and a few other available ingredients.

Finally, and the theory considered to be the most likely (according to the book PHỞ a Speciality of Hà Nội by Hữu Ngọc and Lady Borton) is that the birthplace of phở was in the village of Vân Cù in the Nam Định province. The story goes that impoverished villagers created phở and then peddled their dish in Hanoi, about 100 kilometres ways. The phở was a huge success amongst both the poor and wealthy residents of Hanoi and this success may explain why several of the best phở chefs in Hanoi originate from Vân Cù Village. Vân Cù villagers do not know who created phở, they only know that in about 1925 a villager named Van became the first person to move to Hanoi to open a phở stall.

Although a year has passed since my 5 week sojourn to the astoundingly brilliant Hanoi, the memories of phở bò in particular remain entrenched in my bank of culinary experiences. The phở that I have created and posted here is a culmination of all the soups I tasted in Hanoi and advice I was given from the Vietnamese friends I made over there. I have tried to stay true to the Hanoian style: a simple, clean and uncomplicated soup that has a deep rich meaty and lightly spiced flavour, with a subtle hint of sweetness. The secret to a great phở is the broth – the broth will make or break your soup. This version is based on phở bò chin (boiled beef) and phở bò tai (rare beef).


Serves: 8  |   Preparation:  30-40 minutes   |   Cooking: 4 hours + resting overnight



For the broth:
2 kg Brisket |
2 kg Beef bones | Get your butcher to cut them in to pieces.
300g Pork rib bones | Adds a ‘sweetness’ to the broth – advised by my Vietnamese friends and connoisseurs of phở
6-7 litres Cold water | Enough to ensure the bones are covered.
1 tbsp. Sea salt |
5 large Asian or French shallots | Unpeeled.
1 bulb Garlic | Unpeeled.
100g Ginger | Unpeeled.
1 Brown onion | Unpeeled.

For the spice pouch:    
5 pods Black cardamom |
3 quills Cinnamon |
10 Cloves |
6 pods Star anise |
1 tbsp. Black peppercorns |

Other flavourings for the broth:    
150ml Fish sauce | Also have some extra if the broth needs seasoning at the end.
90g Yellow Rock Sugar | This sugar tastes both richer and subtler than refined, granulated sugar. It also gives the broth a beautiful lustre and glaze. White sugar can be used but reduce the amount to about 60g.

Additions to the final Soup:    
200g per person Phở (Noodles) | Buy fresh from an Asian grocers.
1 bunch Garlic chives | Finely chopped.
250g Rib eye fillet beef | Sliced thinly.
25g per person Bean sprouts |
6 Spring onions | Chopped.
2 Birds-eye chilli | Finely sliced.
1 to 2 Lemon or lime | Quartered.
1 bunch Asian basil | Discard the roots, wash and split the bunch into small sprigs.
1 bunch Coriander | Discard the roots, wash and split the bunch into small sprigs.
1 bunch Perilla leaves | Discard the roots, wash and split the bunch into small sprigs.
1 bunch Vietnamese mint | Discard the roots, wash and split the bunch into small sprigs.
To season Fish sauce | Only of required.



How To:

Over a charcoal grill or a very hot griddle pan place the shallots, garlic bulb, ginger and brown onion and char-grill for about 20 minutes. We want the outer skin burnt and the inside soft; this really adds a depth of flavour of the broth. When done remove the burnt outer skins, discard and then chop up the rest in to smallish pieces.

Again over a charcoal grill or hot griddle pan toast the black cardamom pods, cinnamon quills, cloves and star anise pods for about a minute until really fragrant. Remove the spices from the heat and along with the peppercorns roughly grind them in a spice grinder or with a pestle and mortar. Make a pouch out of muslin cloth and add the spice mix. Tie up the pouch and set aside.

To an 11 litre (or similar) stock pot add the brisket, beef bones, pork rib bones, cold water and sea salt. Ensure that the water covers the bones completely. Bring the meat and bones to the boil and then reduce to a rolling simmer for about 15 minutes. During this time skim any impurities that rise to the surface (usually a brownish foamy scum). By removing these impurities you will end up with a clear broth. Now to the bones add the chopped char-grilled shallots, onion, garlic and ginger, spice pouch, yellow rock sugar and fish sauce and then bring back to the boil. Now turn down the heat to low, cover the pan and let it simmer for about 3 hours. The broth will reduce during this time, which is what we want.

After 3 hours turn off the heat and then allow the broth to cool for about an hour. Now carefully pick out the pieces of brisket. Leave them to cool overnight. Now, strain the broth through a fine sieve into a smaller stock pot (I use a 5 litre one) and then allow it to rest overnight in the fridge.

Once rested in the fridge the stock will have a layer of solid fat on the surface. Strain carefully through a fine sieve lined with a double layer of muslin and then return the broth to your smaller (5 litre) stock pot. You should see a lovely translucent brown stock. Discard the muslin cloth as it should now contain all the filtered fat.

Now to prepare the rest of the ingredients: take the Asian basil, coriander, perilla leaves and Vietnamese mint and put in to a bowl of iced water. This will ‘crisp’ the herbs. Drain them just before serving. Heat the broth to just below a simmer and season with fish sauce if required. I added about 1 teaspoon. Thinly slice the cold boiled brisket (used to make the broth) discarding any ‘lumps’ of fat.

Bring a large pan of water to the boil. In a large enough sieve place 200g of the noodles and blanch in the hot water for about 20 seconds. Loosen the noodles carefully during the blanching. Place the noodles in a serving bowl and repeat the process for the other serves.

Each serving bowl should now contain noodles. To each bowl add a good sprinkle of the finely chopped garlic chives, the bean sprouts, a few chopped spring onion pieces, a handful of sliced brisket and a few slices of the raw rib eye fillet. Now pour 3-4 ladles of hot broth into each bowl so that it looks like a soup. Serve immediately.

Prepare as a side a bowl containing the herbs and a dish containing the lemon/ lime quarters and sliced chilli. People can then add as much herb/ chilli/ lemon or lime to their soup. Remember a phở connoisseur first lightly stirs the noodles, then drinks a mouthful of the sweet broth.

Hot Chilli Garlic Sauce


Why do we love chilli?

Why are some of us addicted to the sensation that traverses the plain of delight to pain? Studies conducted at Reading university suggests that the answer to this is because when hot chilli hits the tongue, pulses are sent to the brain which trigger both the ‘happy’ part and the part that detects pain. It seems that the happiness brought on by consuming the fiery molecules of capsaicin (the actively ‘hot’ component of chilli peppers) is enough to counteract the obvious pain that can result, especially from those chillies that register high on the Scoville scale (the scale that measures the pungency, or spicy heat, of chillies). And, as we like to do things that make us happy – we eat chilli.

Personally, I love hot seedy chilli sauce (that’s with seeds and not the delight of eating chilli in some sordid back alley) with garlic; something that was in every local street stall in Hanoi when I visited recently. However, my affinity for this delectable sauce goes back to my time in London, the memory of which came to me the other day as I smelt the chilli garlic sauce I was cooking.

I remember arriving in London as a wet-behind-the-ears young man, looking for adventure and to study. Money was too tight to mention and on arrival in England’s capital managed, by a bit of luck and a fair wind, to score a fantastic flat in Tooting thanks to a wonderful Singaporean lady. She was the landlady and lived in neighbouring Streatham. I remember going over to her place one Sunday afternoon, rocking up to a shop front from which emanated the smells of an oriental feast of herbs and spices. After being invited in for afternoon tea, and subsequently eating an array of amazing Chinese/ Singaporean home-made snacks, I was presented with a jar; a jar that can only be described as gold, frankincense, and myrrh rolled in to one – chilli garlic sauce. I had never tasted anything like this before, and the memory of the amazing peppery and garlic flavour and intense tingling sensation from the heat that bolted and somersaulted around my mouth has never left me. I later learned that this lady was a magnificent chef and had even been commissioned to provide a banquet for the Prince of Wales (Charlie to his mates) during her career.

Not until today have I tried to replicate that magical chilli sauce. So fanfares please, as I present my version of chilli garlic sauce – pleasure and eye-watering pain.


Serves: A few months’ supply   |   Preparation:  10 minutes   |   Cooking: 30 minutes + 1 week resting



900g Birds eye chilli | Tops removed. I bought these at our local Vietnamese grocers; they were just known as Vietnamese chillies, which I know to be birds eye chillies. They are nice and hot.
18 cloves Garlic | Peeled.
2 tbsp.  Peanut oil |
1½ tbsp. White sugar |
1½ tbsp. Sea salt  
100ml Rice wine vinegar | This sauce is not as acidic as some bought ones – it’s more rounded in flavour. You can add more vinegar if you like.



How To:

In a food processor blitz the chillies, garlic and peanut oil until a smooth paste is formed. I process them for about 3-4 minutes.

Add the chilli paste to a pan, and then stir in the salt, sugar and rice wine vinegar and bring to a simmer over a low to medium heat. Simmer for about 20-30 minutes. Pour the resulting thick sauce in to *sterilised jars, seal them and then allow the sauce to cool to room temperature, at which point they should be refrigerated. I recommend leaving this chilli sauce for at least a week to mature. It should keep for a few months, refrigerated. With the birds eye chilli this sauce is nice and hot so use with abandon…I mean care.

*To sterilise a jar wash with warm soapy water, and then rinse well. Dry with a clean tea-towel and then put it in a preheated oven at 120 deg C (250 deg F) for 5 minutes (ensure your jar is heat proof). Remove the jar carefully from the oven and allow to cool, ensuring you don’t touch the inside of the jar.


  • Did you know that the main heat from chilli comes from the pith and not from the seeds?

Chả Lụa – Pork Terrine


Stern faced, the guard in a snowy white uniform, gripping a menacing looking rifle and holding an intense stare that penetrated the thick grey granite, suddenly flicked his eyes my way and moved his head to the side in a manner filled with such focussed intent that I disembarked from my momentary pause and continued to walk, silently, swiftly and sullen faced. Fifteen seconds later I had ‘walked the line’ and emerged back in to the cold wind swept morning disturbed and exhilarated. I had just seen Uncle Ho, the revered hero and much praised leader of this great nation.

Embalmed to an incredibly life-like presence, he lays there with a perfectly wispy beard; arms delicately crossed on his upper torso; and wearing his favourite khaki suit. I have just seen a body that left this mortal coil in 1969 but looked as if it had been trapped in time, never to suffer the rigours of the ageing process again. It was eerie, disconcerting and surreal, yet given the context of what this person achieved and how people from around the world are intrigued by him, and how the locals’ are so still enamoured with him and driven to succeed through his accomplishments, it was also a wonderful, majestic and inspirational experience.

The Hanoians are terribly proud of their Uncle Ho, and this pride runs through it food. As he still forms part of the locals’ daily lives, so does cooking and eating together, and socialising. No more so when Hanoi’s classic dishes are on the table, one of which is chả lụa, or pork terrine.

Historical French occupation is still evident when one sees the number of bakeries and locals selling fresh baguettes on street corners; the smells could be from une rue de boulangeries à Paris, was it not for the intermissions of smoking char-grilled pork aromas. But these baguettes call out for something most European in its invention: pork terrine with pickled vegetables, tomato, cucumber and lettuce.

I first tried chả lụa courtesy of our friends in Hanoi, who declared that they have a relative nestled in some back alley downtown that produces the best chả lụa in Hanoi. It was magnificent; from the unwrapping of the banana leaf and local newspaper that is was encased in to the wonderfully smooth texture. I attempted to replicate this in Hanoi and only having the use of a cleaver and a pestle and mortar could not get the pork fine enough or paste-like enough to obtain that silky finish. It was something that would have to be worked on back home.

Fast forward 5 months, and a few chả lụa(s) later I have finally managed to make that beautifully aerated and smooth terrine; one that will never be quite as good as Hanoi, but nonetheless very close. I am sure Uncle Ho would have been proud.


Serves: A few  |   Preparation:  10 minutes   |   Cooking: 1hour + resting overnight



500g Pork shoulder | Get your butcher to mince this on the finest setting if you don’t have a mincer at home.
2 tbsp. Fish sauce | A good quality fish sauce if you can obtain it.
1 pinch Sea salt | I use Maldon sea salt.
1 large egg Egg white | Free range.
2-3 Banana leaves | Can be bought at many good Asian grocers, fresh or frozen.



How To:

Put a large pan of water on heat until it is simmering. Next put hot water into a sink and soak the banana leaves for about 5 minutes, then remove the leaves and pat dry.

The next stage can be a) pretty easy if you have a good food processor b) very healthy if you don’t as you’ll need to expend a fair bit of energy to pound the meat. I did it the second way when in Vietnam, but now I am back in Melbourne I opt for the first way.

a) Add the mince, fish sauce, sea salt and egg white to a food processor and process for about 3-4 minutes. The result needs to be an incredibly smooth paste.

b) Add the mince to a large mortar and pound the meat with a pestle until a very fine paste is achieved. Then add the fish sauce, sea salt and egg white and pound a little more until consistent. This method can take anywhere between 10 and 20 minutes.

Lay one banana leaf along your bench top and then place the other at right angles across the middle of the first one (You should have a large cross shape). Place the smooth pork paste in the middle in an as close to a cylindrical shape as possible.

Now take one end of the banana laying parallel to the bench and gently, but fairly tightly, wrap it over the pork paste. Now do this with the other end and then tuck the excess banana leaf underneath. Now with the banana leaf at right angles to the bench take the end furthest away and wrap it over the meat, towards you. Now take the end closest to you and fold over the meat, away from you. Now roll the parcel to take up the excess banana leaf. You should end up with a tightly wrapped cylindrical parcel. Roll the parcel a couple of times to ensure the meat paste is cylindrical. Now tie the parcel with string, ensuring that it is tight enough to hold the banana leaves together but not too tight to ‘dent’ the meat paste.

Place the parcel in the simmering water; the heat should be on the lowest setting. Cover with a lid and cook for 1 hour. When finished allow the parcel to cool to room temperature and then place in the fridge overnight. Your chả lụa is now ready. Open at one end and slice. Keep it in the fridge wrapped in the banana leaf so it stays moist.



  • Traditionally eaten in Hanoi with fresh baguettes, pickled vegetables, tomato and cucumber.

Vietnam – The Conclude

Physically I am back in Melbourne. The rest of me is still twisting and turning, smelling and eating, listening and chatting, and sipping Vietnamese ca phe at my local.


Hanoi Old Quarters at Night

Hanoi Old Quarters at Night


Hanoi has been an eye opening time that has left me both saddened and inspired. I have loved the simplicity and camaraderie of the Hanoians, and therefore have returned to the ‘routine’ of life, saddened. However, having removed myself from routine and having had the honour and pleasure to ‘live’ in such an exhilarating environment for a month has left me feeling inspired and with a fire in my belly to achieve anything I desire, especially with reference to cooking.

I hold true to what I said in a previous post and that is you can only truly experience cooking Vietnamese when you have cooked in Vietnam. I will also say that you have only truly eaten Vietnamese when you have eaten it in Vietnam.


Hanoi Food at Com Que, The Old Quarter

Hanoi Food at Com Que, The Old Quarter


In Melbourne there is an area called Little Vietnam, or Little Saigon. Before I went to Hanoi I would rave about the food here – real Vietnamese food. Recently there was a festival there celebrating the lunar New Year; it was just after we had arrived back in Melbourne. Feeling ‘home’ sick for Hanoi we were in a frenzy to get down there and drown ourselves in pho. But this time it was different. Don’t get me wrong it was still good, but it just wasn’t a patch on those grubby little street stalls in the Old Quarters. It was almost as if it had been commercialised to suit a broader palate.

I am a great lover of the Melbourne food scene, and the ingredients you can get here are fantastic, so this is no blight on Melbourne, or indeed Little Saigon. It’s just that I have experienced how simple food can be simply perfect if it is made perfectly. This is something I hope that I will carry forward in my culinary adventure, wherever it takes me.

Over the next few weeks I will be testing out recipes gleaned from various sources in Hanoi, and will be putting them on this blog.

When I travelled in India, which was one of the most inspirational periods of my life, there was a saying that went:

Journeys are forever. People come and go,

And the eternal fascination of India endures.

And when it’s difficult to say goodbye,

India has a popular saying that translates to mean

“I go, so I may return”.

…and this is my ‘conclude’ dedicated to Vietnam.


Beautiful Sapa

Beautiful Sapa

Vietnam – The best Pho in Hanoi is…

…a very difficult one to call. Before I give the final answer, a subjective one of course, it’s important to define what actually makes a good pho (in case you haven’t read my other Vietnam posts, pho is the general name for the thick rice noodles served in broth). Here is my take on it:

1)      For me the whole dish hinges on the broth. And I found that a Hanoi pho has a distinct broth which is sweet (not by sugar) and homely, and does not contain additives like chilli sauce, vinegar or garlic. I hear that connoisseurs of pho like to lightly stir their noodles in the broth and then take a mouthful of the sweet broth. Straight away you know if it is good or not.

2)      The next thing is the quality of the meat. We came across two main types of pho: pho bo (beef) and pho ga (chicken).

Pho Bo: here brisket is usually used, which is from the front underside of the cow. I came across three variants of pho bo. The first was pho bo chin, which uses a beef that has been boiled, hung up to dry and is then sliced. The second was pho bo tai, where the fat and tendons are removed from the beef. The beef is cut into small pieces, put in a ladle and the ladle is half submerged in the vat of broth. The meat is pulled out when semi-cooked.  The third variant I saw was pho tai nam. This one is similar to pho bo tai except that cooked meat is served with raw meat. In all instances the beef is placed on the noodles in a serving dish and then broth is poured over.


Pho Bo Sign in Hanoi

Pho Bo Sign in Hanoi


Pho Ga: I only saw one variant of pho ga. In Hanoi only the chicken breast is served in this noodle soup, so to get a good mark, mentally in my head anyway, the breast had to be nice and tender and full of flavour.


Pho Ga - Chicken Noodle Soup

Pho Ga – Chicken Noodle Soup


3)      The noodles are another important part. They should be nice and slippery with no ‘sliminess’. To be honest all the noodles I tried in Hanoi were near damn perfect.

4)      Additions. This is really about what was served with the pho. Usually the pho is served with spring onions and garlic chives. Also, an additional bowl would be served containing anything from the following; perilla leaves, Asian mint, coriander, Vietnamese mint, crisp lettuce, miniature limes and fiery chilli. I can’t remember any pho being served with bean shoots although when I eat pho in Little Vietnam in Melbourne there are always bean shoots. I actually think the pho is better without them.

I worked out that we have eaten pho at nearly every type of establishment, and have eaten it for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Apart from one which was average (it was an international chain of Pho restaurants), all of them have been unique and ‘insanely great’ (stole that one from Mr Jobs, RIP).

We had the honour of eating pho ga on Christmas night with the owners of the apartment and all the other tenants. This was a wonderful experience with in an international group of people socialising, laughing and telling stories whilst lapping up beautiful noodle soup, spring rolls, sticky rice and punchy and herbaceous salads.

We had memorable pho bo and pho ga on the edge of the mountains in Sapa – it was cold there, so the hot noodle broth for breakfast instilled a warmth that would carry you through to lunch.

We have eaten pho at little places we have discovered in Hanoi; usually tiny holes in a wall kitted out with miniature plastic stools and tables, and serving the most incredible pho.

But the winner of the best pho, and the place that completes number 10 in the top ten of must eat street food experiences, goes to a place that is renowned for its pho in Hanoi, and the one that I saved till last to eat in. Located in the middle of the Old Quarters this pho joint is mentioned in a couple of publications that we have in Vietnam with us; Luke Nguyen’s book ‘Songs of Sapa’ and Lonely Planet Vietnam.

I awoke at 6.30 in the morning and took the 25 minute walk from our apartment to Pho Gia Truyen, the name of the pho stall. I was greeted by a queue of locals that were being served by a Vietnamese lady with an intimidating looking meat knife. She was delicately cutting slices from the big piece of brisket.


Number 10 -  Pho Bo (Pho Gia Truyen)

Number 10 – Pho Bo (Pho Gia Truyen)


As my turn arrived to be served she barely lifted her head, but I could see her eyeballs stretching to look at me. She gave me the look of ‘are you going to order or what?’

Nervously, I said “pho bo, cam on”. She raised her head, gave a little smile and pointed to the menu. There were three things all of which I had never heard of so I plumped for pho tai nam (see above). I sat down at a small table where my knees covered my ears. Everyone let out a big gesticulation of laughter and they pointed to a bigger table. Smiling, I moved and was then served the most sweet, beefy and heart-warming broth that I had eaten in Hanoi.


Pho Tai Nam Beef Noodle Soup

Pho Tai Nam Beef Noodle Soup


The meat was incredibly tender, the noodles were unctuous and the herbs, although few, harmonised with the whole dish. My best pho in Hanoi.

Vietnam – An Interlude

In about 30 minutes time we are heading out to the train station in Hanoi to take an overnight train to the hill town of Sapa. Luke Nguyen, a well know Vietnamese-Australian chef, wrote a book called ‘Songs from Sapa’ where he travels through Vietnam, picking up local recipes and food experiences around Vietnam. He starts his journey in Sapa, and has an amazing culinary experience here – which is what we are hoping to do. So there’ll be a big update on here once we return to Hanoi. In the meantime I have to share with you that my daughter and I took a long and tiring walk through Hanoi city in search of a glimpse of the Red River.


The Red River Running Alongside Hanoi

The Red River Running Alongside Hanoi


Having reached it, we can say it was an experience if not the second coming, as it were. A young Vietnamese man ventured out into the overgrowth by the river to cut down what looked like pampas grass. This was a romantic gesture to his girlfriend who was waiting patiently. However, when he returned and saw my five year old daughter he decided to share his hard-worked for prize, much to the amusement of his girlfriend. On the way back to the middle of the city we found four women sat by the road making banana fritters. Sometimes you just walk by and smile, which we did. But fortunately I decided to go back and purchase one.

All I can say is that it was absolutely delightful. Sometimes we must just step out, see and try new things or else fantastic experiences can pass us by. Now for Sapa.

Vietnam – Chicken Noodle Soup (Phở Gà)


Here is the first of the fruits from my Hanoi experience; chicken noodle soup – phở gà. Along with the beef version this is an absolute staple of locals in Hanoi, and is traditionally served for breakfast. I have been fortunate to eat at a number of street food stalls serving phở, the more general term for noodle soup (its literal translation is noodles), however I have been extremely honoured to have been invited in to the kitchen of the owners of our rented apartment here to see first-hand how this fantastic dish is prepared.

What I have done is taken elements of every version I have eaten and tried to come up with a definitive recipe; which to be honest is not possible as every one that makes phở in Hanoi has their own version and secret ingredient(s) or method.

The first experience of cooking this dish was to procure the chicken from a local market. When you buy a chicken here it looks like a chicken; head and feet intact. Vietnamese chickens are not as ‘fattened’ as the western counterparts, so there tends to be less meat on the carcass. However, they are packed with flavour which is a great basis for the broth – the element which a great phở hinges on. Having bartered for a local chicken I then bought the noodles ready-made. It just makes sense to do it here, as you can buy 1kg of fresh noodles for about $1USD. Finally, I found a stall that sold such an incredible array of local herbs; a cook’s heaven. However, it was the Asian basil (also known as Thai basil) with its sweet, aniseed aroma that stood out from the rest, and so I decided that this should be the one to finish off the soup – of course with some fiery chilli and zesty lime.


Serves: 6-8   |   Preparation:  40 minutes   |   Cooking: 1-2 hours



About 1.5kg Chicken | I used a Vietnamese chicken, which seems to have a lot of flavour – definitely use a free-range one, maybe organic, if you’re not in Hanoi!
2 tbsp. Sea Salt | Used to salt the chicken.
6 Spring onions (scallions) | White part only – roughly sliced.
6 cloves Garlic | Garlic bulbs in Hanoi are small, but pack a punch – I used a whole bulb, but 6 medium to large cloves will do.
About a 5cm piece Fresh ginger | Peeled and thinly sliced.
About ½kg Pork bones | These add a ‘sweetness’ to the broth – get them cut into 10cm pieces.
3 tbsp. Fish Sauce | I used a ‘butterfish’ variety that’s available here, but regular fish sauce (good quality) is fine.
2 tsp. Sea salt |
2 tsp. Sugar | Not sure what kind of sugar I used – I bought it from the market, procured from a large sack. Its sweetness was like raw sugar, but its appearance was like golden castor sugar.
2 tsp. Garlic oil | Make garlic oil by frying 6 finely sliced garlic cloves in 250 ml of vegetable oil (at 180 deg. C) until golden brown. Drain the oil. The garlic can be used as garnish and the garlic oil stored in a refrigerator for a week.
1kg Fresh noodles | I had the privilege of being able to buy great noodles here. You can by dried rice noodles and prepare yourself. However for a good consistency it is better to buy fresh packeted rice noodles.
8 Spring onions | Sliced.
8 Garlic chives | Finely sliced.
1 or 2 Red chilli | Finely sliced with seeds.
1 Lime | Cut into 8 wedges.
A few Herbs | To serve. Here I used Asian basil. You can also use Vietnamese mint, perilla leaves, and coriander. The one thing about Hanoians and their phở is that they don’t add too much to the soup – they let the chicken, broth and noodles speak themselves.



How to:

The first step is to put the chicken in a plastic bag and add the 2 tablespoons of salt. Shake the bag and ensure that the salt is evenly spread around the chicken. Leave this for about an hour then remove the chicken and rinse thoroughly to remove any salt.

In a mortar and pestle pound the spring onion and garlic to a paste. Put the chicken in a large stock pot and add 5 litres of warm water. Over a medium heat bring the water to a gentle simmer and cook the chicken for about ten minutes, skimming away any impurities (foam) from the surface of the water.

Add the spring onion and garlic paste, and the sliced ginger. Cook the chicken for a further hour (vary slightly for smaller/ larger chickens), ensuring that the water does not go past a gentle simmer and also as important turn the chicken every 15 minutes to ensure even cooking. We want to cook the chicken as gently as possible, whilst also extracting the flavour in to the water.

Once cooked, remove the chicken from the water and set aside to completely cool. Now add the pork bones, fish sauce, salt, sugar and garlic oil, and gently simmer for a further 25 minutes. Remove the pork bones and discard, and then strain the broth through a fine sieve and return to the cleaned stock pot.

To serve, heat the broth so that it’s on a gentle simmer and take one portion of noodles (about 125g or so) and blanch them in the broth using a cylindrical strainer (this is the first time I had seen this technique, but it works great). Add the noodles to a serving bowl, then slice a good portion of breast from the chicken (with skin) and add to the bowl along with a couple of pinches of garlic chives and spring onions.

Now pour over the broth until it has completely covered the noodles and chicken. Repeat for the other portions. Serve the chilli, herbs and lime separately. Please enjoy.



  • This is just one version of this classic dish – it is pretty close to the versions I have eaten here in Hanoi.
  • I originally was going to cook the chicken for about two hours, but the waft of the broth must have risen to the apartment owner’s residence, and in a flash she came down, felt the chicken, picked up two chopsticks, picked up the chicken with the chopsticks, lifted it out of the broth, plonked it on the bench and said ‘ready’. She then toddled off. Of course the chicken was perfect (and so the cooking time is an hour!)

Vietnam – 10 Must Eat Street Food Experiences

As I walk around Hanoi there is always somebody cooking or eating; breakfast, elevenses, lunch, afternoon tea, dinner, supper and more often than not in between. Within every 10 or 15 metres there is some degree of socialising around food; whether co-workers, friends, family or strangers, food induces a camaraderie I have not seen in Australia or England.


Ladies Cooking Bun Cha on a Hanoi Street Corner

Ladies Cooking Bun Cha on a Hanoi Street Corner


Even on a satisfyingly full belly I walk through a balloon of smoke that has wafted in to my path and the appetite-inducing aroma that I now know as bún chả – char-grilled pork patties – draws me closer. It’s just one of the incredible street food experiences in Hanoi.

Finding specific street food stalls can be quite tricky though as, in particular the Old Quarter, Hanoi is a rabbit warren of roads, little alleyways and hidden away eateries that sometimes look so basic that you can walk straight past them without knowing. Having 4 weeks here gives us plenty of time to discover. However, having walked up and down the same stretch of road trying to find a particular stall I have gone back to our old friend the Lonely Planet, in which there is listed the top 10 street food experiences, each one a different take on the Hanoi food experience. What I will do is list the places as we try them out, and try to convey how brilliant and tasty they were through the vehicle of this blog – which to be honest is going to be a near impossible task. Of course, our time here is also about discovery, so interspersed in the 10 will probably be 10s more places that have, like sirens, drawn us to their charm.


Number 1 - Xoi Yen

Number 1 – Xoi Yen


The first of the listed ten we tried was in the Old Quarter called Xoi Yen. The four of us weaved and wended our way up some tight spiral steps to the second floor, in which we were plonked down in a busy open room looking out over the street, on chairs that were barely big enough for our five year old daughter. We spent 5 minutes trying to decipher the menu in Vietnamese, and when a chirpy waitress came to serve, we attempted with our best charades to try and convey what we wanted, using our neighbours’ meals as reference and the very little Vietnamese we knew. It was after 5 minutes the waitress politely smiled, and then gave us a menu in English. The speciality here is sticky rice (glutinous rice as it is also known as) which is topped with maize that has a mashed potato like consistency.


Chinese Sausage on Sticky Rice

Chinese Sausage on Sticky Rice


On top of this we had finely sliced sweet Chinese sausage and a real Hanoi classic, thinly sliced chả lụa – a pork terrine that is incredibly smooth and I think slightly salted with fish sauce. We left with enormous smiles on our faces – it really felt like we had participated and consumed a real part of Northern Vietnam.

The second one we tried was today, a stone throw away from an incredibly Gothic looking and almost intimidating cathedral, St Jospeh’s.


St Joseph's Cathedral in Hanoi

St Joseph’s Cathedral in Hanoi


Around the corner, nestled under a banyan tree was Banh Goi, an eatery very typical of Hanoi. The speciality here was deep-fried food and we had two varieties; a fried sweet cake, bánh rán ngọt, and sea crab spring rolls, nem cua bể.


Number 2 - Banh Goi

Number 2 – Banh Goi


The sweet cakes were a real treat, probably Hanoi’s equivalent to doughnuts, but containing a sweet paste and rolled in sesame seeds. After some research, which is quite amusing when the researcher is using one language and the source of the research is using another, I found that the paste is made from chickpea, possibly mung bean, coconut and sugar. I could be wrong though.

The sea crab spring rolls were the best spring rolls we have had in Hanoi, and we have had a few believe me. The delicate crispiness of the rice paper skin with the unctuous crab, vermicelli and vegetable filling, all deep fried to add calories and flavour, was the food highlight of the day.



Can’t wait to do the next eight. Final Eight can now be seen here.

Vietnam – A Week In

Like twisting ivy this place is growing around me and encapsulating my soul. It is a place of extremities from its peaceful nature and subtle flavours to it energetic and entropic stream of motorbikes and its people’s intensity for life. Perambulating around this wonderful city brings new things to take in; new sights, smells, tastes, sounds and sensations. And although this is starting to sound like Lonely Planet, I cannot talk about the excitement that the existence of food brings here without providing a little insight in to the surroundings around that food.


The Old Gate in Hanoi

The Old Gate in Hanoi


Hanoi has a number of areas, with the heart of the city being centred around Lake Hoan Kiem, a beautiful jade coloured lake (when the sun is out) that is the home to a sacred turtle, one that some locals believe to be hundreds of years old. To the north of the lake is the Old Quarters, the hub of trade in Hanoi, and home to the most incredible street food. As I walk around the Old Quarters it is apparent that every street is home to a particular trade, and the street names indicate such. For example there is a street for silk, one for hardware, sunglasses, shoes, hair, mats, coffee, fruit, noodles, clothing, bags – the list goes on. And on every one of these streets someone is eating or cooking.

One of the discoveries I made earlier in the week was a café with a stunning view over the lake. To enter this café you first have to walk through a purveyors of silk, and then through an antique courtyard before climbing three sets of winding and rickety steps. Once there I had a treat – Vietnamese coffee with egg-white. At first this does not induce a real desire to partake, but having taken the plunge to try this speciality I was taken by this wonderfully whipped sweet meringue like head on the strong and intense Vietnamese coffee.

Having been only mildly impressed with the first Pho I had eaten here in Hanoi, it was time to venture in to the real street food areas of the Old Quarters, where I stumbled upon a typically spit and sawdust eatery; plastic chairs, imbalanced laminate tables, greying ‘white’ tiles and a kitchen that looked as if it had just been excavated from the earth.

Having travelled around Asia before, I have a good feeling for whether a place is safe to eat or not, and although there was a little trepidation, I thought that it was good for us all to eat there. I had pho bo and was quite simply blown away – this was what I had longed for in Hanoi. The simplicity of the dish was married with a harmonious balance of flavour. There seemed to be cassia (seems more readily available here than cinnamon, and gives a more intense flavour), star anise, black pepper, garlic, ginger and onion coming through in the beef based broth. The salt came from fish sauce. The broth had brisket (beef cut from the breast or lower chest), rice noodles and spring onions and was served a side of bean shoots, perilla leaves, Vietnamese mint, sliced red birds-eye chilli, and miniature limes. It felt like eating something very homely that would then burst to life with explosions of herby and spicy fireworks on the palate. Apparently there is another place that serves the ‘best’ pho in Hanoi, but surely this one has to be up there. Hanoians eat pho from 7am and so our Pho sessions are getting earlier and earlier.


Hot Pickled Chilli in Hanoi

Hot Pickled Chilli in Hanoi


A couple of days ago we all ventured to HOM market, an old Hanoi market that as well as a selling a seemingly infinite range of fabrics from around the world is brimming with vegetables, fruit, delicacies, meat and live fish and seafood – my kind of heaven. And given this market is only a 3 minute walk from our Hanoi apartment it’s a great source of fresh ingredients for my cooking exploits. On the last trip there I couldn’t go past the vat of live black tiger prawns, which were just crying to be wok fried with garlic, fish sauce, chilli, bamboo, coriander and served with perilla leaves (a Vietnamese herb from the mint family) and lime; a dish inspired purely by the produce and the classic chilli-mint combination. I can tell you that I have never eaten prawns that fresh; literally 30 minutes from swimming around in the kitchen sink in the apartment they were being served, and the difference in texture and clarity of flavour was immense.


Lime and Chilli Served with Pho

Lime and Chilli Served with Pho

Vietnam – Pho, Whoa and Toe

This place, Hanoi, is incredible. The buildings and monuments hint imperiously at the Communist past, and to a lesser extent its current presence. The noise, vitality and volume of motorbikes and scooters exercises the senses. The style, bustle and colours of the Old Quarters whizz you back to a French colonial past melded with the true modern day essence of Vietnamese trading. And importantly the smell of spices, bread, coffee and soups at every street corner induce what seems to be a permanent state of hunger. I love this place, and we are only one day in.

As the first part of this post title suggests today was about finding Pho, the iconic Vietnamese noodle soup, which can be seen made and eaten wherever you look in Hanoi. Our first Pho Bo (Beef noodle soup) was good, but we have been assured that we are about to be shown the best Pho in Hanoi by the owner of our rented apartment. This I will be looking forward to. A highlight of today was seeing a Vietnamese lady in essence carry her Pho ‘shop’ in two large baskets, one dangling either side of a long pole resting on her shoulder, something akin to a large set of scales. These baskets must have been heavy because in total they contained a burner/ stove, a big pot of broth, a mound of fresh noodles, as well as bowls, spoons, chopsticks and serving accompaniments including lime, chillies, herbs, bean sprouts and pots of sauces. She rested her wares at the side of the road, and literally within 30 seconds had set up her ‘shop’ and was serving a queue of people their lunch. It was quite amazing to see.

Coffee also has its place here, and I am surprised to see the many coffee shops dotted about the city. Traditional Italian style coffee can be had, which I have to say was excellent where I had it. However, as I wanted to try something different later on in the day I had the Vietnamese version. Hot water is added to a thin metal filter/ container that has ground coffee in the base. The coffee, I think, has been roasted in some kind of buttery oil which really gives it a distinguished Vietnamese taste. The coffee slowly drips in to a cup containing sweetened condensed milk. Once fully ‘dripped’ the hot coffee is stirred and then poured into a tall glass full of ice. That was the Whoa of the day.

The toe is a bit of a sad story; sad in that it’s not much of a story, has nothing to do with food and was down to my own clumsiness. Basically, whilst having mastered the often feared crossing of the roads here in Hanoi I slipped on some mud in the gutter, and having the most sensible of footwear on, flip-flops, proceeded to trip up and remove some of the outer layers of my toe. This was much to the amusement of the locals, and much to the pain of myself. With the red stuff pouring out I found a pharmacy, and once I had woken up the attendants, all three who were sleeping behind the counter, I was supplied and pampered with cotton wool, iodine, antiseptic cream and plasters. How special one felt.

As night drew in, about 5pm this time of year, the final act for the day was to purchase some cooking tools; wok, knives, chopping board, bowls, utensils etc. and then some ingredients for my first ever cook in Asia. Having travelled through Asia in years previous and never having actually cooked in an Asian country before, I was really excited at the prospect of going back to the apartment and getting in to the kitchen. One thing that Hanoi is renowned for is its subtlety of flavours, so that the taste of the produce is the feature. Therefore food tends not to be overly spiced here. With this is mind the first dish I cooked was simplicity itself: black tiger prawns, bamboo shoots, fresh coriander and rice noodles flavoured with, my find of the day, ‘butter fish’ fish sauce and a touch of garlic chilli sauce, and washed down with a couple of cans of Bia Ha Noi, the local Hanoi beer.  Simplicity and Beauty all in one.