Stickyrice

The Top Ten

The last post on pho marked a milestone. It was the tenth in the Hanoi pho swoop, which sounds 'piddly-like-whoopie-big-deal-so-I've-eaten-ten-bowls-of-soup', but I can tell you for every bowl I've blogged, another ten have gone south of my mouth. The problem with pho mapping Hanoi for me is that I keep returning to my favourites rather than following a systematic approach to a process that I've realised will never end.

I do like pho, though, much more than a bowl of soggy cereal or a slice of toast with vegemite for breakfast. I like a wet breakfast and I will persist with the noodle slurping in perpetuity, it seems.

But let me summarise the very subjective findings so far.

THE STICKYRICE 'HANOI PHO SWOOP' TOP TEN SLURPS:
(as at 22/11/06)

1. Best Pho Ga By Far So Far (posted 26/7/06)
   "Get me a whole bird in my soup!"

2. Would You Queue for Pho? (2/8/06)
    "...a joint that Hanoians spruik up as one of the places to slurp one's noodles."

3. Pho Corner (12/9/06)
    "...cleavered chicken pieces, diced up hearts and livers, sliced fillets of breast covered  in lime leaf needles, a huge pile of fresh pho, a pot, a sieve, a ladle and some bowls."    

4. Pho Franchise (9/11/06)
    "classy, almost minimalist, a far cry from the cluttered detritus of the average family pho show in Hanoi."

5. Up-Market Pho (7/10/06)
    "...no slap-dash affair. Someone cares."

6. Pho Ga Blur (8/8/06)
    "...this rambling kerbside affair is an evening only slurp in a dark section of the Old Quarter."

7. Pho Poser (10/7/06)
    "...there's half a cow on board this bowl..."

8. Friendly Grotbox (17/11/06)
    "...bargain basement territory..."

9. More Pho Tails (20/8/06)
    "...a definitive little pinch me moment of "bloody hell, I live in Vietnam!"

10. Pho Map Installment No 2 (18/8/06)
      "...chewy, fatty and if I think too hard I might be forced to spit it into a serviette."

What about those of you who live in or have vistied Hanoi? What do you reckon? Am I out of my tree or not? I'd be much more motivated to branch out a bit if some recommendations were forthcoming.

*On a completely unrelated note, Hannibal Lector seemingly landed on this blog after conducting a search for the following: "restaurants that used human bones to make food delicious." He must be doing a thesis.
            

Friendly Grotbox

The Spot: In narrow Tran Quoc Toan Street, near the corner of Quang Trung, a one-wayer leading into Hanoi's old quarter, there are a series of snack eateries which sell all kinds of oily junk food in the afternoons and evenings. One of them does pho in the mornings, pho binh dan (noodles at a reasonable price) to be precise, according to the chirpy proprietor. Across the street, the deafening acoustics of a concrete primary school playground at recess provided 'ambience' to eat by.

Space and Atmosphere: Upon my arrival, this friendly grotbox was being graced by the presence of seven twenty-something women attired in stunning pink ao dai, the Vietnamese national dress, an odd juxtaposition to say the least. Discarded napkins and lime wedges on the floor, with the ethereal tails of the ao dai trailing through them. The walls are papered with soft drink ads, David Beckham's dial no doubt boosting Pepsi sales. Enough seating for a football team with substitutes on the pavement.

Shopfront Style: Not enticing but typical of the small pho operation, with the makeshift timber serving station and the stock pots all part of the front of house action. At the tail end of morning service, the debris is building up for the one clean up of the day!

Sticks, Condiments and Crockery: This joint observes all of the ostensible pho by-laws: bamboo sticks, Chinese floral bowls and condiment vessels in need of a good wipe with a clean cloth!

Serving Station: Surfaced with stainless steel, smeared and littered with rush hour refuse. The public face is tattered with yet more soft drink plug: Splash, a sickly orange drop, and Joy, happy distilled water.

Meat Generosity: The lovely ultra thin slices of chin somehow reminded me of the cured meats of Europe, like pastrami and pancetta. The texture and grain of the meat was tighter or something. Plenty of it, too.

Order to Delivery Gap: One local man who walked in after me was fed first. Normally that would shit me. But he was a policeman. I understand the pecking order in Hanoi.

Stock Factor: Perfect colour and clarity, not a fleck of scum evident. A touch on the salty side.

Cost: I'm in bargain basement territory here, with 11,000VND (USD70c, AUD90c) including an egg yolk, which is a common addition to Hanoi pho.

Rank: Eight of ten. Numero uno for grot, though.

Pho Franchise

The Spot: Located on one of Hanoi's shadiest streets, at 37c Phan Dinh Phung, Pho 24 is one branch of a fast growing chain of noodle soup franchises. In Saigon, the distinctive green signage denotes a total of 21 branches, a presence which surely compares with McDonalds' in cities in the States or Downunder. This spot in Vietnam's capital is in amongst some quite chic cafes and boutiques but the real Hanoi is close at hand, in the form of monstrously noisy construction sites all around, a dinky one man photo-copy shop nearby and the archetypal ground level tea and fag seller at the front door.

Space and Atmosphere: Classy, almost minimalist, a far cry from the cluttered detritus of the average family pho show in Hanoi. The front area is partitioned glass serving station, adjacent to which is a counter for five or six punters not unlike a Japanese ramen bar. It's a step through a waste of space courtyard to the main dining area, which seats about 30. Lots of door opening and swishing of hands by the waiting staff, who outnumber the customers, lead me to my table. Shiny, simply designed square black timber tables and stools, white walls, red lanterns, nice paintings of herbs and kitchen utensils.

Shopfront Style: Glassy and green, with a touch of neon.

Sticks, Condiments and Crockery: All white, including the plastic chopsticks. Even the toothpicks are wrapped in trademark stamped white paper. Individual square platters of herbs (Asian basil, saw-leaf coriander), chili, lime, beanshoots and thinly sliced onion make this set up more like southern-style pho than Hanoi pho. One thing that really got my goat was the bloody trademark stamped paper placemat foisted upon me as I sat down. With nothing to weigh it down and half a dozen overhead fans buzzing about the ceiling, I spent my 'order to delivery gap' chasing the friggin' thing around the restaurant.

Serving Station: The cone-of-silence style, the chefs and their preps and pots like monkeys at the zoo.

Meat Generosity: The menu reads like an anatomical run down on the bovine; flanks, brisket, muscle, tendon, fat and tripe all hanging out. In my bowl, there's carefully weighed portions of beef and brisket, probably equivalent to the recommended daily intake for both protein and fat. Pho 24 servings are a precise science, as expected in such a franchise. 

Order to Delivery Gap: Enough time for me to run a marathon after my recalcitrant placemat. A tad longer than the industry average.

Stock Factor: When the plate of herbery arrived at the table and armed with the knowledge that Pho 24 started as a Saigon outfit, I was expecting a slightly sweet stock. Not so. I wonder if the ingredients are altered to cater for more purist Hanoi tastes?

Cost: Not surprisingly, the most expensive pho outing in the swoop, ranging between 24,000 and 35,000VND a bowl (USD$1.50 - 2.15, AUD$1.90 - 2.80).

Rank: Four of nineten.

Up-Market Pho

The Spot: A few hundred metres up from the cathedral on Ly Quoc Su street, this is up-market pho amongst a few curbside eateries. Fashion boutiques, tailors and handicraft shops denote this area as 'Tourist Central' and this joint is aiming for a cut of hard currency, too.

Space and Atmosphere: Verging on sanitised fast food outlet, with a glassed off kitchen, trendy downlights (as opposed to the usual naked lightbulb swinging in the breeze), big heavy timber chairs and tables, fresh lick of paint on the walls, menus and uniformed waitresses in pink. Not the 'shout-and-push fest' of the average Hanoi pho stop. It's all rather sedate and civilised. Not one scrap of napkin or discarded wedge of lime underfoot.

Shopfront Style: Salmon and cream paint job on the exterior walls of this art-deco style first floor which mutates above into 'innovativist' Vietnamese apartment block style: ramshackle, tack-on roomed, prison bar security, undies and caged birds hanging out the windows amongst a belief-defying tangle of electrical cables. Like the orange and brown signage, though. That's what caught my eye in the first place.

Sticks, Condiments and Crockery: In most Hanoi soup stations the chopsticks are washed and re-used bamboo. Here, in what is a first, I experienced disposable sticks, wrapped in plastic and snapped apart for use. The crockery and condiment receptacles are classic white - all a bit Country Road really, but a refreshing change from the floral numbers that are the norm.

Serving Station: All angles of glass, stainless steel, big stacks of white bowls, pots, steam and a little window at front where the product is despatched for delivery.

Meat Generosity: In keeping with the specifications of the Hanoi pho swoop, I order the double meat variation, tai chin. The tai (rare beef) is pink and tender, the thin slices of chin (like corned beef) would be fit for a white bread sandwich with tomato chutney, almost completely devoid of chewy fat. Plenty of both. Good quality cow!

Order to Delivery Gap: Snappy and with a smile.

Stock factor: Clear, a bit dark and robust. What I like about the soup here is the herb generosity. Even though there's no side plate of herbs as in the south, the soup is topped with blanched spring onions and lots of mint. This soup is no slap-dash affair. Someone cares.

Cost: 12,000VND (USD74c, AUD$1.00) a bowl, surprising considering the surroundings. I thought it could be more. Check out the menu.

Rank: FourFive of eightnineten

Pho Corner

The Spot: Cnr of Lan Ong and Cha Ca streets, this alcove requires motorcycle-commuting patrons to circle precariously around the intersection until such time as there is a slot of tarmac in which to park. It’s a creative process, a gruff nod from the pho pa signalling success and a soup ticket.

Space and Atmosphere: Sadly lacking in space, this soup joint has one stainless steel table around which ten or twelve customers can sit. Everybody else is camped along the step up to it, their backs a metre from the gutter, a clutter of motorbikes providing a barrier from the moving ones.

Shop-front Style: Pho Ma is squatting in a doorway, lodged beside a glass cabinet, her handbag hanging above her, a fan cooling the sweat on her brow on this hot morning. The signage is to the point: address, the three available dishes and the trading hours. No flowery slogans or superfluous details here.

Sticks, Condiments and Crockery: Slightly newer and fancier chopsticks than the usual soup shack, varnished, etched around the top and pointier, which can be problematic for the inexperienced user. Problems include the 'drop back in splash' and noodle scorch on a bare leg. Nothing much out of the ordinary in terms of the additives, except for a little ramekin of my chinh (MSG) mixed with salt, just in case there isn't enough in the soup on arrival.

Serving Station: Like all professional pho vendors, this pho Ma has everything at her fingertips and during my short stop, she didn't lift her backside off the stool. She swivelled to each part of the process, handling ingredients and implements with ease. Around her are cleavered chicken pieces, diced up hearts and livers, sliced fillets of breast covered in lime leaf needles, a huge pile of fresh pho, a pot, a sieve, a ladle and some bowls.

Meat Generosity: No complaints on this front. Plenty of very tender chicken meat, almost but not quite as good as the current number one pho ga purveyor. It's a big serving of noodles here, excellent if a carbo hit is required. Some pho places can be stingy with the noodles, crazy considering they are the cheapest ingredient.

Order to Delivery Gap: Didn't notice, so must have been fairly standard. If pho is not delivered within five minutes, something's up.

Stock Factor: Clear with the odd fleck of missed scum. Flavour is there. So is MSG. Mind you, the latter is everywhere so no surprise. Pho Ma is not the most heavy handed MSG spooner I've come across.

Cost: 10,000VND (USD62c, AUD82c) a bowl, a bit under the average. Good value.

Rank: Three of seveneightnineten

Still on the look out for recommendations and apologies for the recent lack of sticky action. This was due to the Independence Day long weekend, a move of abode and lack of an internet connection. Oh, and that necessary evil otherwise known as work!

More Pho Tales

The Spot: 27c Van Mieu, right opposite the splendour of the Temple of Literature, next to another little pagoda on the corner of Nguyen Kuyen Street. This is a definitive little pinch me moment of "bloody hell, I live in Vietnam!"

Shopfront Style: Single frontage grot, dust, rust and mildew under a yellow canopy, shade abounding from nearby trees, pot plants on the roof, three bottles of potent rice wine on the step up into the restaurant. Fairly standard 'pho-scape'.

Space and Atmosphere: The temple looms large over the road and, seated on the pavement, I have a fine view. The interior of this narrow cave has three or four plastic tables surrounded by the clutter and detritus of this pho family's existence, all of which has been pushed to the walls and shoved up high in any possible nook or cranny. The teenage boy relatives fetch the iced tea, pho pa ladles soup, chats up the customers and proffers photo opportunities while pho ma rips cow tails in half with her bare hands and gritted teeth. All done with a smile.

Sticks, Condiments and Crockery: The chopsticks are jammed tight into their holders, chilli sauce full to the brim, fresh chilli snipped not long ago, garlic vinegar in need of vinegar. Lime wedges called for and duly delivered. Plastic crockery with the ubiquitous purple floral design. What is it about this design? Is there an obscure government pho crockery by-law requiring it?

Serving Station: A right angle arrangement, pho ma wedged in the angle and barely visible through the hanging arse-ends of cow hooked on a wooden frame facing the street. There's something disquieting about the sight of tails bereft of their owners.

Meat Generosity: With all the flesh being merchandised out front, there's bound to be a fair amount of it in the bowl. A pile of pale and practically shaved chin is portioned, on top of which is a decent mound of tai, beef cooked rare under the ladle pour. And what about those tails? They're nicely whacked out in a bowl with half a bush of mint and some spring onions and chili. A bit chewy for my liking and the fat gag activator was on alert.

Order to Delivery Gap: A flash.

Stock Factor: I liked this broth. The herby subtlety, the ginger and beef marriage and just the right amount of salt.

Cost: This is below average. A bowl of tai-chin is a meagre 8000VND (USD50c, AUD65c).

Rank: FiveSixSevenEightNineof sixseveneightnineten.

Pho Ga Blur

The Spot: 65b-67 Lan Ong Street, this rambling kerbside affair is an evening only slurp in a dark section of the Old Quarter, renowned in the day as Chinese medicine street. A waft of herb is still on the air at night. Come back on the morrow for a small brown paper envelope of herbal remedy for whatever may be ailing you.

Shopfront Style: This operation is a footpath blocker. There's no getting around it unless you step off the kerb onto the road. To guard against the stormy skies of the rainy season in Hanoi, there's a convoluted web of makeshift tarps, twine and electrical wire going every which way, bare bright light bulbs swinging freely. Careful you don't garotte yourself.

Space and Atmosphere: Organized chaos aplenty with all the little helpers knowing exactly what they have to do. Dishes are being done in a system of three buckets, complicated orders for whole families are remembered by heart, trays with towers of empty bowls and chopsticks at 'pick-up-stix' angles are being cleared off vacated tables. There are two dining areas, as demand has necessitated expansion indoors into a torture hall of stark fluoro lit white walls lined with soft drink advertising. What probably started as a five seater around the serving station is now able to cater for about 60 at a time.

Sticks, Condiments and Crockery: Coca-Cola have kicked in with the branded chopstick, serviette and toothpick stands, consummating an odd marriage between global multi-national and 'ma and pa' street food. Well-stocked lime wedges and chilis, pepper shakers full and unclogged.

Serving Station: It's a ten foot long stainless steel bench, customers lining one side, chiefs of staff on the other. Between them lay the spoils for the making of not only pho ga, but also bun thang, xoi ga and mien ga.

Meat Generosity: What is unusual here is that I'm portioned with skin and chewy bits which are normally reserved for and preferred by the locals. If a local received a solely white meat portion, they would complain. Most pho ga purveyors automatically assume that foreigners would rather the breast meat. Not here. An added touch is the garnishing of thin strips of lime leaf, a perfect accompaniment to chicken.

Order to Delivery Gap: A slick three minutes.

Stock Factor: In Chinese medicine street, this soup seems to have stronger restorative properties than most. Or is that just an old wives' tale?

Cost: A broth and a brew (Bia Hanoi) - 20,000VND (USD$1.25, AUD$1.65). This is a steal!

Rank: ThreeFourFiveSix of fivesixseveneightnineten

By the way, I'm still looking for input here. Any pho tip offs?

Would you queue for pho?

The Spot: this one, at 49 Bat Dan Street, is a joint that Hanoians spruik up as one of the places to slurp one's noodles. When conversations turn to pho, this famous but seemingly nameless soup restaurant is bound to issue forth from someone's lips. Interesting that, in the old days, the artisans' guild in this street busied themselves making bowls, no doubt most of which ended up with pho in them. Bat Dan 2006 has some new bia hoi action, a good steakhouse, more noodles, tailors, cafes and an antique fan restorer on its corner with Hang Dieu.

Shopfront Style: Hard to get a clear view, with motorbikes jammed on the footpath and clusters (Vietnamese don't queue!) of patrons around the serving station and loitering in front. Recent restorations about 12 months ago have amounted to no extra space in the cave, but nice new doors, new sign and a lick of paint.

Space and Atmosphere: Seats about 30 with overflow onto blue plastic amongst the bikes. Botheration is the presiding emotion here, on the faces of all patrons because, get this, one must not only line up but also stand waiting for one's bowl and then, endorphins and pain threshold at odds, deliver one's own scorching bowl to oneself, across slippery floors, through an obstacle course of scraping chairs, elbows and frosty observation. I needed a shot of rice wine by the time I sat down!

Sticks, Condiments and Crockery: Sticks like poor relations, only the wonky, warped and wall-flowers remained. Hard to find a match. Lacking in lime wedges, like this other famous pho house, the condiments are in general disarray.

Serving Station: Once I got there, it was all meat on hooks, meat in chunks, careful portioning and slicing with very sharp knives. The lady surgeon never looked up, understandably. Her off-sider, a gruff bloke doing the dunking and ladling, gave me 'the once over' before accepting my order.

Meat Generosity: Cautious, without the scales, but far from stingy. The chin, hoisted on hooks (above), is the star here, thinly sliced and tasting not unlike grandma's best corned beef.

Order to Delivery Gap: A sore point, with all the queuing and self-service. Bigger than the gap between rich and poor, haves and have nots! I do subscribe to 'slow food' and all that but a 30 minute wait for noodle soup in Vietnam is not on.

Stock Factor: Brewing in the dark alley alongside, the ladling arm comes out of the doorway for a scoop with robotic monotony. It's robust, beefy. I could feel it doing me good.

Cost: 15,000VND (USD95c, AUD$1.20)

Rank: Two of fourfivesixseveneightnineten

Best Pho Ga By Far So Far

The Spot: 172 Ton Duc Thang St. Not exactly in the town centre, it's three minutes down from the Temple Of Literature on a hot dusty main thoroughfare out of town where, if a bus doesn't get you, the pollution will. I'd risk it for this pho, though.

Shopfront Style: Glaring morning sun on bright yellow tarp. Sunglasses essential. Consider a gas mask, too.

Space and Atmosphere: Confusion reigns on this front. There's opposition pho ga serving stations in this laneway. The seating for the one on the right is directly behind the one on the left. The seating for the one on the left is down the alley in a neighbour's front room. Which business one patronises appears to depend upon which boy covets and parks one's motorbike. It's a circus!

Sticks, Condiments and Crockery: Standard sticks of bamboo shoved in the plastic utility stand with dunny paper serviettes and toothpicks. Fresh wedges, topped up chili sauce and snipped fresh chili all at the ready, nothing wanting.

Serving Station: The birds are the stars here, pots of stock and portioning, ladling action out of the picture. Chooks in various stages of dismemberment are scattered about, their internals and aborted progeny proudly displayed in their own show trays, like museum installations of found art.

Meat Generosity: These chickens must be of the happy, free-range ilk for their flesh, in thicker than usual pieces, is luscious, tender, non-stringy plus all other positive adjectives pertaining to chicken meat. The best bird meat in the capital so far. It's a generous portion but it's so good that there should be more. Get me a whole bird in my soup!

Order to Delivery Gap: Remembering that 10 minutes in a pho shack feels like an hour of normal time, this 12 minute wait was worth it.

Stock Factor: As clear as a mountain spring. How can something that looks like water have so much of a flavour burst? Normally I don't slurp the last mouthful from the bowl!

Cost: A 'pricey' 16,000VND (USD99c, AUD$1.30) but hang the expense.

Rank: One of threefourfivesixseveneightnineten

Pho Map Installment No 2

The Spot: Pho Cuong, 23 Hang Muoi, last noodle stop in the old quarter before the dyke road west, practically under the overpass to the Chuong Duong Bridge. Green tea by the kilo from Thai Nguyen province available next door, auto repairs all around. Good coffee within spitting distance.

Shopfront Style: Stripey blue tarp, busted up signage, vaguely soup-kitchen-esque.

Space and Atmosphere: Two separate caves, one the neighbour's. Industrial fans, ceiling fans, standing fans and wall fans make it a windy meal. It's Grottsville with a huge fruit and flower still life poster hanging on the left wall, a tiny ceramic landscape of the Old Quarter on the right. Half a dozen happy-go-lucky teenboys operate this show, attired in numbered and branded uniforms.

Sticks, Condiments and Crockery: Chunky bamboo sticks, not sure which is the whittled end. At 9.15am, the condiments are tired, in need of a top up, a fresh wedge and a wipe of the vessels. Made-in-China pink floral bowls are pretty standard in pho caves city-wide.

Serving Station: Minimalist. The boys have instituted a two-handed right to left system, with pho dunking followed by portioning of meat, herbs and spring onions and the ladle of stock from the pot at right. A poached egg yolk is an option, discarded shells flung on the floor.

Meat Generosity: It's strictly beef here, not a feather in sight. Beef all ways, tai (rare), chin (like corned beef), nam, gau. They're far from stingy but from my pathetic western perspective, the chin is chewy, fatty and if I think too hard I might be forced to spit it into a serviette. Let it be known, though, that fatty chin is be no means a sign of a bad pho to the locals.

Order to Delivery Gap: A whizz bang half a minute, delivered by no.2

Stock Factor: A beefy punch, slightly salty. Well tended, scum being skimmed vigilantly, the pot's on a perfect simmer.

Cost: 10,000VND (USD62c, AUD83c)

Rank: Two of two Three of threeFour of fourFive of fiveSix of sixSeven of sevenEight of eightNine of nineTen of ten

Any Hanoi pho recommendations highly appreciated.