Soup?! Is always a treat, even in the height of summer.
September 2023
6.30 am on one of those typically hot and incredibly humid summer mornings in Hanoi. I left the house early and I find myself sitting in front of a steaming (!) bowl of Phở gà. I drizzle some fresh lime, a good dash of fish sauce, lots of fresh chili and some pickled garlic on top. The first spoonful with the direct explosion of heat, spice and umami flavor in my mouth is simply "wow", regardless of the outside temperature.
Phở is THE Vietnamese soup of all, popular for breakfast and so comforting. It's basically a soup that’s made with all the good stuff: broth, noodles, chicken or beef, fresh Thai basil or mint, crunchy bean sprouts and the spices already mentioned. Usually, the street-stalls serve either beef or chicken Phở. Depending on the place you can choose the part of the meat you want to have in your soup. For beef Phở, choices include medium-rare, sliced beef, steamed lean beef, steamed half-lean, half-fatty beef, beef tendon, to name only a few options. With chicken soup, it is not so common to be able to choose the pieces of meat that go into your soup.
I'm always in the mood for Phở and I'm glad I found a like-minded person in cô Lien. We often meet for breakfast at one of the many small street-stalls. The other day, when we were sweating over Phở, she told me how much she appreciates the cooling side-effect of a bowl of hot soup in summer and also provided an explanation straight away: Hot food raises the body temperature, which is a signal for the body to cool down, and we start sweating as a result. When the sweat evaporates, it cools down our body. To be honest, I don't feel this cooling effect. I only feel the sweat dripping all over my body. But hey, what's the problem? Ever since I can remember, I've loved soups.
That morning we also talked about family meals, especially soups. In my family, soup and stew were a typical Saturday lunch in winter, served as the main course with a nice piece of bread, followed by a slightly richer dessert to really fill us up. I especially remember soup classics like noodle, potato, tomato, vegetable and lentil soup, traditionally seasoned, without frills; and not to mention almost endless variations of pumpkin soup that came up in my youth.
In cô Liens family soup was also a regular part of the menu. She loved and loves the spicy sweet and sour soup Canh Chua, that was served traditionally for dinner, either with rice vermicelli noodles or with a side of steamed jasmine. Apparently, each family has their very own recipe and so there are a number of variations. Besides fish, it can be made with water spinach, chicken, bamboo shoots, mustard greens, pork, or beef. To me, it looks like this soup is an all-rounder.
You must know that Cô Lien is a real foodie and I'm sorry you can't hear her describe experiences with food in general and Canh Chua in particular. For her, Canh Chua is the perfect blend of sweet, salty, and sour and a wonderful mix of flavors and textures in a broth of tomatoes, pineapple, fresh herbs, tamarind, bean sprouts and chunks of fresh fish with the balanced taste of sweet, salty and sour. And it is, of course, her very special memory of family dinners.
Perhaps you know the passage from Marcel Proust's “In Search of Lost Time” in which he describes the "madeleine moment" and how the taste of this little cake unexpectedly evokes a memory of the past. I have planned to pay more attention to smells and tastes from now on. I want to have this Vietnamese olfactory archive that I can use at any time later to remember the years I worked and lived here.
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