There’s
a choice to be made - greet the warmth and honesty of the pho with
reciprocative feelings. Or, react to the directness of the dish, city and
people with a corresponding curtness. If you don’t get on with pho, you won’t
get along with Hanoi. Historically, romantically and pragmatically intertwined,
the two are one and the same.
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The
global culinary diktat ordains the truly transcendent plate comes to an accord
with the state of mind of the consumer. That country and culture, currency and
currentness, the city, chef and diner are all represented. Pho manages to do
all of these things and goes beyond, resolutely. Profoundly. No dish in the
world is more profound.
Of Place and Time
The
origins of pho are contested with the same mercury raising as a Hanoi summer’s
day. The issue is contentious and the people proud. It’s a discussion for
another time, when our mouths are not full, and hearts not warmed through by
soup.
Whatever
the truth, Hanoian history and identity is in every bowl. Struggle, and
fortitude in the face of it, is writ all over the city and dish’s visage. Wars
have failed to alter the identity of Vietnam as the enemy had wished, and the
best pho recipes have remained staunchly the same - and secret - for just as
long.
The
best (ducks for cover) pho - that is, the northern style - stays obstinately,
stubbornly spartan. The frivolous, loose and unscripted Southern rendition
seems to echo the stereotypes of Saigonese character bestowed on them by
Hanoians. The Vietnamese preserve tradition through pho, and the best recipes
move for absolutely no one.
Photo by Joseph Gann
Hierarchies of the
Pho Shop
You
get a sense of the unique history of each pho vendor just by taking the time to
look up from your broth. Pictures of the family, both past and present, adorn
the walls. If you are loyal to a particular purveyor - and let’s be honest, all
pho lovers are - you can track the progress of each family member in the shop
as the years pass and Hanoi’s towers rise. Their subservience, role in the
chain of command and level of energetic output is reflective of their place in
the hierarchy.
In
turn, you can track your own place in the customer pecking order through the
occasional, modest gesture of gratitude for your patronage. A free tea here, a
knocking off of 5000 Vietnamese Dong there, the moving of your motorbike into
shade from the sun or shelter from the storm - always subtle, never showy.
Little touches of class and respect which the Vietnamese sprinkle over everyday
interactions so elegantly.
Linguistic Seasoning
For
a nation who spend so much of their time in the public sphere, where you can’t
buy a new T.V without your neighbour knowing, where on the street you’ll find
everyone chatting over tea and sunflower seeds, pho is a deeply private,
personal affair. It is a moment’s solitude - penetralia in the face of daily
prying. No phones are used at the table but perversely, little conversation
occurs. It is polite practice to lower your head reverently and slurp in
silence.
Maybe
it’s no coincidence that the marrowy Vietnamese language echoes the ideal bones
used for the broth - shin, oxtail, anything gelatinous enough to provide the
much sought after mouth-feel. The language, like the dish, relies on few
flourishes - its majesty utilitarian and breviloquent. While the great cuisines
and languages of Europe exploit flowery adornments and objectify embellishment,
pho exerts a brusque dignity.
Making a Case for the
World’s Greatest Dish
There
is a sense in Hanoi, and large swathes of Asia, that strife and skirmish are
rewarded, that luxurious surrounds rarely equate to the finest food. The best
pho is earned through a long journey in extreme heat, traffic, choking dust or
soaking rain. You order through a ridiculous dance of universal body language
and pointing. You may receive a dressing down, though the cadence of tonal
language could be read as gentle joshing or genuine ridicule, equally. Crushed
between jostling customers, leaning over each other for condiments, ducking a
few inquisitive stares and dishing out a few of your own, all sins are purged
with a bowl of noodles and soup.
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Pho
is, above all else, one hell of a leveler. Suits rub shoulders with young
hotrods having a pit stop; families gather; grandparents take turns cradling
babies while parents imbibe. All spill indiscriminately. It is egalitarian -
enjoyed by and available to all. If you make the effort to scratch the surface
just a little, caress curiosity and dive in, you will be embraced and rewarded.
Everyone leaves the pho shop a little warmer.
Much
the same could be said of its mother city - the beautiful, regal Hanoi.
By Joseph Gann/ Huffington Post