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American Pho-nomenon
It’s not the simplest dish your back-of-house will ever prepare, but pho has the potential to do wonders for the industry.
By Brent T. Frei
Not
long ago in foodservice, menu trends were birthed in fine dining.
Swaddled in white linen, if a dish had legs (figuratively speaking), it
toddled off its lofty perch to win hearts and taste buds of souls
frequenting lower-check-average dining operations. The Caesar salad is
one of the best examples. Born in 1924 at an elegant restaurant in
Tijuana, it crossed the border to be welcomed at an astonishing breadth
of concepts in the U.S. Today it bears grape tomatoes and an endorsement
by Paul Newman at the giant of quick-service restaurants, McDonald’s.
Likewise, chicken Florentine used to be presented on a bed of spinach
and topped with Mornay sauce in only the highest falutin’ places, and
you’ll still find it there. But it’s also a sandwich (grilled or crispy
and topped with Swiss cheese) at Fuddruckers.
The notion that a bona fide food trend can take flight only from the
platform of fine dining was challenged everlastingly by the advent of
the wrap sandwich. What put the wrap on the map was its explosive
popularity in the quick-service Mexican segment about a decade ago. Now
everywhere and, speaking virtually, every tongue. Even The Ritz-Carlton,
Chicago, rolls out the red carpet for the wrap sandwich, evidenced by
seared ahi tuna, a slaw of daikon and Napa cabbage, and soy/miso
dressing in a flour tortilla on The Café menu. The wrap proved forever
that a real menu trend, thanks to Americans’ eternal search for
something novel but practical (not to mention tasty and affordable), can
trickle up as well as down.
Enter pho (pronounced “fuhâ€). It’s an understatement to say that this
Vietnamese soup characterized by steaming-hot broth with rice noodles is
hard to find; relatively speaking given the number of restaurants
operating in the U.S., it’s hardly anywhere. But where it plays, it’s
huge.
Could
pho be the next wrap? It’s nowhere nearly as portable (although Pham
offers pho for takeout in a heavy-duty Styrofoam cup that she says works
well). But unlike a wrap, which is defined by form rather than flavor
and, thus, can contain anything, aficionados of pho say the heady broth
is one of the richest and most satisfying foods they’ve ever
experienced. The comforting taste of pho coupled with its
characteristically low price point—plus the sheer love it inspires among
an ever-growing number of devotees (whom Nguyen dubs “phonaticsâ€)
representing every ethnic background—could catapult pho to the
conventional.
Pho: What It Is
One need only sample a steaming bowl of pho to understand why it
remains a cherished tradition in its native homeland of Vietnam and why
it rapidly is becoming a culinary phenomenon in America, says
PhoFever.com’s Nguyen. Its delicately spiced broth, complex flavors, and
fresh ingredients delight the palate and satisfy the appetite.
Pho
was born in northern Vietnam during the mid-1880s. Heavily influenced
by the Chinese, who imported rice noodles and spices, and the French,
who popularized the eating of red meat, the word “pho†is often said to
be derived from pot-au-feu (literally, “pot on fireâ€), a classical French preparation of meat and vegetables slowly cooked in water.
The popularity of pho spread in 1954 when the country was divided into
North and South Vietnam. As the dish migrated southward, cooks infused
it with additional ingredients until it evolved into the version that is
commonly served in the U.S. today. Refugees fleeing Vietnam to America
in 1975 brought their recipes for pho with them, and today more than 500
restaurants with pho as their core menu item—the vast majority of them
mom-and-pops—are spread across the U.S., according to Nguyen.
Traditional pho begins as beef broth simmered for as long as 12 hours
with charred onions and a bouquet garni à la classical French cooking.
In the U.S., popular pho versions are chicken, vegetarian, and even
seafood, although purists do not consider seafood pho true pho. Pho’s
near-boiling heat at service allows the guest to cook whatever he or she
drops into it. Restaurants that specialize in traditional beef pho
usually offer excellent cuts of raw flank steak, eye round, and brisket,
but might also include tripe, beef tendon, and chewy meatballs of
cartilage and tendon, particularly if located in Asian communities.
Standard garnishes supplied with every bowl include bean sprouts,
wedges of lime or lemon, Thai basil, scallion, cilantro, slices of
serrano or jalapeño chile, and, more rarely, sawgrass or saw leaf herb.
Generally, chopped scallion and cilantro are sprinkled on immediately
before service, and the remaining vegetables and herbs are brought to
the table for individualized garnishing.
Lovers of spiciness might add a generous squirt of Sriracha hot sauce
directly to their bowls to heighten the heat and add a characteristic
reddish tint to the broth, but hoisin sauce is strictly optional and
should be added only if the broth is not flavorful enough (in which case
you should find another pho restaurant, Nguyen says). Dollops of both
Sriracha and hoisin sauces, slightly mixed together, should remain in a
small dipping bowl on the side to enhance slices of meat and other
trimmings as you eat.
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