"Making pho can't be that difficult, can it?"
"Nah....it's just a broth, few bones, water, bit of this, bit of that."
My first attempt at it started with me talking to myself. Then I wrote a shopping list, shot down to the market and picked up some pig bones, some this and some that.
Back in the kitchen, I filled up the pot with water, dropped the bones in, fired up the gas cooker and started messing about with the other bits. I bashed the ginger up, bruised the lemongrass and, along with the star anise, nutmeg and cinnamon sticks, half an onion and a bulb of garlic, they took a synchronised dive. Bloody simple!
The broth boiled, I skimmed the scum, turned down the flame, took to my book and drank two cans of Bia Hanoi. Two hours and one nap later, I returned to the kitchen for the moment of truth. The aroma was intriguing.
I put the spoon to my mouth.
It had a pungent herbal wallop that would kill a brown dog.
I'm going to follow a recipe next time.