Over the last few years, I’ve come to love eating a hot, spicy soup on a hot, sunny day. Part of it I attribute to the violence and drama of it all — from the steam in your face to the sweat outline your thighs leave behind on the plastic chair. But mostly, I think it’s the fact that Vietnamese noodle soups are just delicious.
The scalding white bowl, that somehow the shopowner can carry across the crowded restaurant in a superhuman feat of strength. The massive steel fan that gives your face a brief moment of comfort on each swing. Lime rinds, squeezed dry, littering the ground. These factors, the ones beyond the rim of the dish itself, contribute as much to the flavor as the noodles or spices. Similarly intrinsic, I’ve discovered lately, is the emotional journey the meal takes you on.
This year, I’ve been trying to remember to put my dumb little phone rectangle down at lunch (I know, I know, groundbreaking). I find that when I let them, foods can make my mind wander in different directions. And it’s fun to follow their whims and fancies to see where they lead. For example, a cup of Earl Grey tends to hurl me into winter, no matter the temperature. Nature Valley bars remind me of dreaded cross-country races in high school. It’s why I rarely eat them anymore, panic is an unlisted top ingredient. A peanut butter and jelly sandwich makes me feel like something exciting is about to happen.
But back to soup. One unexpected perk of attempting self-employment has been enjoying Vietnamese lunches- in all their chaos, variety, and glory- every day. While I love a rice buffet or banh mi, the most beloved lunch to me will always be a noodle soup. Each of them is their own medicine, their own remedy for the humors. The closest comparison I can make is to music. When all the components come together, you have something that surpasses straightforward art, and takes on a completely sensory meaning. It can fix a moment in time, or take you somewhere entirely new.
In that spirit, this week I’ll be tasting some of my favorite Vietnamese soups, and listening to the songs that best capture their mood to me, particularly as it relates to my three years in Vietnam. Bear with me, as this is lengthy and at times delusional. I am also not an expert on Vietnamese cuisine, music, or anything at all for that matter.
Phở Gà - “California” by Joni Mitchell
Pho ga is the chicken-centered iteration of Vietnam’s most famous dish. Said to have originated in the 1930s, when beef wasn’t as readily available in the country, its lighter broth features ginger, shallots, and cilantro.
To me, the true flavor of pho ga comes in the comparison, which, as an American, is to classic chicken noodle soup (just like mom used to make). Chicken pho is something I eat for the comfort, familiarity, and a sense of safety. It’s not California per se, but, as Joni sings in her signature vibrato, it feels a bit like coming home.
“California” is one of my all-time favorite songs because it speaks to something I think about often — can we ever fully go home after we’ve left? John Steinbeck says that we can’t, in his collection of personal essays Travels with Charley. Coincidentally also speaking of his ancestral California, Stenbeck says, “You can't go home again because home has ceased to exist except in the mothballs of memory.” In other words, home will never be what you left because it has moved on in reality from the picture you hold of it in your mind. It’s like former lovers who find themselves unable to reunite because they’ve grown in different directions. It’s a painful thought, and one that’s stuck with me since I read it years ago during my last long-term stint living in Minnesota.
But I take immense joy in Joni Mitchell’s rendition of the same concept. Rather than lamenting that home won’t be what she left, she asks California to “take me as I am.” She acknowledges that she’s the one who’s gone and come back a bit different, but applies for grace and acceptance in her return to where she came from. The song doesn’t say much for California’s response, but in my personal experience, I’m confident she was welcomed with open arms.
When I eat chicken pho, I’m given the perfect reminder of both where I’ve come from and where I am now. The chicken and garlic speak of home, while the lime and chili snap me back to the crowded shop, the humid air, and the sound of motorbikes. The combination is, well, perfect.
Phở Bò - “So Hot You’re Hurting My Feelings” by Caroline Polachek
Pho ga’s richer, darker, beefier sister, beef pho was the first meal I fell in love with in Vietnam. I’m certainly not alone. The national dish of Vietnam, pho bo seduces with its fragrant broth of cloves, star anise, ginger, and cinnamon. I’ve always said it tastes a bit like Christmas. In Hanoi, beef pho comes with crispy fried breadsticks that you soak in your bowl like croutons.
Ours has been a long romance, with all the inevitable ups and downs that accompany that. I’ve sung the praises of beef pho, and I’ve declared that I need a break from it. It’s been there for me on my sweaty, hungover mornings. I’ve loved it for what it is, and I’ve tried to change it (see: adding nearly inappropriate quantities of garlic). I’ve introduced it to my parents.
And I’ve always known that when I leave Vietnam, this is the meal that I will miss the most. I have frequent premonitions of myself back in the U.S., snapped briefly out of the present joys by an inescapable longing for these delicious noodles. Or I’ll try to fill the void in my heart by paying 17 dollars at a pho shop, only to feel the craving further exacerbated. I’ll hear Caroline Polachek in my ear, singing, “I’m out at the party and they’re playin’ our song, I cry on the dance floor, it’s so embarrassing”.
Don’t get me wrong, Vietnamese food at home is also incredible, and I eat it even when I’m just visiting for a few weeks. What I’ll truly be missing is the phase of life passing as I write this, in which a beef pho vendor is always within a one-mile radius, reviving me in the heat and warming me in the rainy season. Where I never “get a little lonely” when there’s a big bowl around. A love affair that was never meant to last, but remains a perfect memory.
Bún Bò Huế - “Misery Business” by Paramore
The most aggressive and hard to love of these featured soups, Bun Bo Hue is also decidedly the most punk rock. Hailing from central Vietnam and dating back to the 1500s royal court, this dish is distinct for its thicker rice noodles and spicy-sweet broth. But when you’re new to Bun Bo Hue, it isn’t the notes of lemongrass that jump out at you, but rather the variety of meats that it boldly brandishes.
Almost every time I stop in at a Bun Bo Hue shop, the charitable chef will double-check that I actually want certain toppings. It’s not uncommon for them to have an English translation of the ingredients taped to the wall, where they point down the list as I nod yes or no. Boiled beef shank, oxtail, pork sausage, pork knuckles, and cubes of coagulated pork blood.
This always raises a dilemma that I regularly put myself in. That is, do I order what is most “authentic” or what I genuinely want to eat? I actually don’t hate the blood cubes, I could finish them to be polite at a family home. But coming from a Midwest palate, I’m just less interested in putting them in my mouth than, say, the deliciously smoky sausage.
Is it more punk rock to muscle through and chomp down on a pig knuckle? I think it’s cooler and definitively more sexy. But the spirit of punk is strongly characterized by a sense of non-conformity, skepticism for the status-quo, and being true to one’s self. In part, it could be crudely boiled down to a kind of “self-authenticity”.
When Anthony Bourdain visited Vietnam for Parts Unknown, he said that he would love to bring a date for Bun Bo Hue to test her tolerance for unfamiliar foods. No blood cube? No relationship. For a long time, I would have ordered all the fixings to prove, to Bourdain and to myself, that I was a totally rad, “fuck it” kind of person. Nowadays, I’ve come to listen to my actual desires and skip a few things. I like to imagine Hayley Williams would like me anyway.
Bún Cá - “Waterloo Sunset” by The Kinks
To me, the allure of Bun Ca is in its simplicity. There are many genres of this fish soup depending on where you are in the country, but all of them are deeply rooted in the seafood of their particular region. With a mild broth and simple herbs as a topping, the fish itself is the star of any Bun Ca. In a way, the soup becomes a love song to local ingredients. To sit down for a bowl of Bun Ca is to enjoy something straightforwardly delicious, and to revel in flavors that come not far from your plastic stool.
In discussing “Waterloo Sunset” with Mojo magazine, Ray Davies of the Kinks said, “The meaning of that song is bound up in the atmosphere it creates.” In an earlier interview with Classic Rock magazine, Davies described the song as a kind of ode to London and to Waterloo which, “holds a pivotal place in my heart”. Sometimes it’s as simple as loving what’s in front of you, or eating it for that matter.
Bún Riêu - “Jolene” by Dolly Parton (and others)
My love for Bun Rieu developed more recently than any of these other soups. Not because it’s an acquired taste, it’s a straightforwardly delicious dish, but because I’ve found there to be a higher barrier to entry. Bun Rieu has many iterations. All of them include vermicelli noodles, a tomato and vinegar-based broth, and minced crab meat. Versions might also include fried tofu, snails, or a pork and crab meat patty (my personal favorite).
Because of the many colors this soup might wear, it’s confusing to order it, especially as a foreigner with admittedly still-nascent language skills. You might end up with exactly what you had in mind, or something wildly different. The saving grace, however, is that all varieties of Bun Rieu are funky, surprising, and completely fantastic. For this reason, I’m assigning “Jolene” to this dish. In part, because my love for Dolly Parton, now deep and eternal, started only in the last few years. But also because Jolene is a song with many exceptional versions. There’s Dolly’s original, and also wonderful covers by Miley Cyrus, The White Stripes, and a particularly moving one from Lil Nas X. I might reach for a certain one, but none disappoint.
Bún Chả - “Disco Tits” by Tove Lo
A fan comment under the lyrics video for “Disco Tits” reads, “I like Tove Lo, listening to her music is like going on a drug binge without all the side effects!!”. Two exclamation points.
Bun Cha is one of those foods, like feta cheese or salt and vinegar chips, that I swear triggers an outsized dopamine release in my brain. It’s stupid how tasty it is. A Hanoi specialty, it’s hard to say which component of Bun Cha is the star. There’s the meat — fatty pork belly and minced pork meatballs — which are grilled over hot coals, usually with a fan nearby to blow the scent into the street. Then there’s the broth, which is luxurious enough to also be called a sauce. It contains fish sauce, sugar, vinegar, and garlic, and no other soup tastes quite like it. There are pickled vegetables, bouncy vermicelli noodles, and fresh herbs.
My feelings towards this dish are profoundly uncomplicated. I just love it. Eating it, much like listening to “Disco Tits”, gives me the immediate (and drug-like) urge to boogie. Two exclamation points!!
The bullet points:
It’s been a heartbreaking week for northern Vietnam after a major typhoon and subsequent floods left many dead, missing, or homeless. Just 10 minutes from my house, there are people whose homes were flooded to the roof, leaving rotting furniture and mud a foot deep. Up north, there are people who lost their homes alltogether. If you enjoyed this week’s essay, please consider donating to Blue Dragon Children’s Foundation’s fund to provide relief for those impacted by the storm. A few dollars goes a long way, and I can vouch that they do amazing work from right here in Hanoi!
Where do your favorite (or least favorite) foods take you? Let me know in the comments <3
I hope you eat something delicious this week-
Ryley
Just added Waterloo Sunset to my playlist. Thanks for the reminder of a great song. Also thanks for the great descriptions of food that can seem daunting to me. It’s not just the ingredients but an actual fear of eating the noodles with chopsticks. Next time you’re here maybe you can give me a little tutorial.
Terrific post, Daughter👍 Right now, I’m in Day-2 of Covid, the fever/chills/ sweat and headache day. Nothing would make me happier than a steaming bowl of Pho Bo. Keep-up the good writing👍💖