The best Pho soup in the world was bought for 3500 Vietnames dong (about Php 7.00). That is a ridiculously negligible amount for the flavour and the punch of that pho.
The best Pho in the world was bought from a street vendor who set up tiny tables and chairs at the curbside, screamed at passing customers to persuade them to eat at her shop. It had small tubs filled with steel chopsticks; and did I tell you already that the tables and chairs were really tiny? I was practically squatting at the table.
The best Pho in the world had the best noodles in them : firm, a bit salty, a bit grainy. It had the best soup too. I can tell that the beef broth was made from actual beef boiled for hours, if not days, and not whipped up with Knorr cubes.
This Pho was eaten in tandem with unidentifiable viands. We had no idea what we ordered, truly. Thank God the language barrier can be overcome just by the simple act of pointing at the stuff you wanted to eat. I have to say you have to have an adventurous tummy because sometimes, you have no idea what you're pointing at or how they're going to prepare the dish. It's always handy to have a glass of water within reach, just in case you choke on the spices.
We were eating the Pho in full ambiance of the Old French Quarter, which is a strange mix of new and old, some streets crowded like Divisoria, some streets like ghost towns. Unlike in Singapore, where you are most likely to hear somebody speaking in Filipino every 2 minutes or so, Vietnam speaks Vietnamese, almost exclusively. Most of the time, you will only need the most rudimentary of English and a LOT of hand signals and acting, not so different from Charades. And I loved it. I let the foreign, indecipherable chatter wash over me as I mulled over my pho. I swear, it made the experience feel richer, the broth tastier, the memory lovelier.
I had the best Pho in the world with a colleague, who in the end turned out to be a good friend. Someone I can look up to and emulate, if I can. The best food in the world only turns out that way if you like the company you had while savoring it. That's why most of the time, I like eating alone. But that time, I was more than grateful for the company. I felt safe, and everything felt authentic.
The best Pho in the world is just an ordinary pho. But it was the compendium of experiences that made it the best. Someday, I plan to go back to Vietnam, and find another best Pho and make new memories out of it.
The best Pho in the world was bought from a street vendor who set up tiny tables and chairs at the curbside, screamed at passing customers to persuade them to eat at her shop. It had small tubs filled with steel chopsticks; and did I tell you already that the tables and chairs were really tiny? I was practically squatting at the table.
The best Pho in the world had the best noodles in them : firm, a bit salty, a bit grainy. It had the best soup too. I can tell that the beef broth was made from actual beef boiled for hours, if not days, and not whipped up with Knorr cubes.
This Pho was eaten in tandem with unidentifiable viands. We had no idea what we ordered, truly. Thank God the language barrier can be overcome just by the simple act of pointing at the stuff you wanted to eat. I have to say you have to have an adventurous tummy because sometimes, you have no idea what you're pointing at or how they're going to prepare the dish. It's always handy to have a glass of water within reach, just in case you choke on the spices.
We were eating the Pho in full ambiance of the Old French Quarter, which is a strange mix of new and old, some streets crowded like Divisoria, some streets like ghost towns. Unlike in Singapore, where you are most likely to hear somebody speaking in Filipino every 2 minutes or so, Vietnam speaks Vietnamese, almost exclusively. Most of the time, you will only need the most rudimentary of English and a LOT of hand signals and acting, not so different from Charades. And I loved it. I let the foreign, indecipherable chatter wash over me as I mulled over my pho. I swear, it made the experience feel richer, the broth tastier, the memory lovelier.
I had the best Pho in the world with a colleague, who in the end turned out to be a good friend. Someone I can look up to and emulate, if I can. The best food in the world only turns out that way if you like the company you had while savoring it. That's why most of the time, I like eating alone. But that time, I was more than grateful for the company. I felt safe, and everything felt authentic.
The best Pho in the world is just an ordinary pho. But it was the compendium of experiences that made it the best. Someday, I plan to go back to Vietnam, and find another best Pho and make new memories out of it.
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