BEYOND PHO: Vietnam's regional noodle soups [for Great British Chefs]

serving up bun ca sua noodle soup
l

Every few feet in Vietnam you'll come across a cluster of locals crouched over steaming bowls of something good, perched on diminutive plastic stools that would barely accommodate one cheek of the average-sized western behind, and are a challenge to negotiate for anyone over five foot nine. These bowls usually contain noodle soup.

The Vietnamese like to be outdoors no matter what time of year – people will occupy the pavements, gathered in groups close to the ground. If it’s cold, they’ll be wrapped up in coats, the rising steam from their dinner warming their faces. 

I don’t think I’ve ever eaten as much rice as I did during my five weeks travelling the length of Vietnam. Much of that was in the form of rice noodles, and they were usually in a broth. I had pho just a handful of times; most of the rest of my eating saw me getting acquainted with all the other regional noodle soups found throughout the country. 

Read the full Beyond pho: Vietnam's regional noodles soups over on Great British Chefs to learn more about my favourites.

bowls of very lovely mi quang noodle soup

Related links
Week 8: VIETNAM - Sapa → Hanoi → Ha Long Bay → Hanoi
Week 9: VIETNAM - Hue → Hoi An
Week 10: VIETNAM - 6 day / 5 night motorbike tour from Hoi An to Da Lat
Week 11: VIETNAM - Da Lat → Nha Trang
Week 12: VIETNAM - HCMC → Mekong Delta → HCMC

house of hồ sunday brunch, soho - review

Any restaurant with a sound system greeting me with Lenny Kravitz that isn’t Are you Gonna go My Way and Bon Jovi that isn’t Livin’ on a Prayer, has already got at least a couple of ticks on my Sunday brunching check-list. Because I love both those artists, but hate both those songs. I’d expect nothing less from a feasting titled Bobby’s Rock n’ Roll Brunch. So well done House of Hồ, for that.

The Bobby in question is Bobby Chinn, the man behind the enterprise. Along with restaurants in Hanoi and Ho Chi Minh City back in his home country of Vietnam, he also has cookery books under his belt and a CV that saw him cut his teeth as a chef in the States. 

I say home country. He was in Vietnam for 18 years. But being born in New Zealand, raised between England, Egypt and San Franciso by his Egyptian father and Chinese mother, I suspect his home is wherever he happens to lay his hat. 

It was in December 2013 when Chinn decided to make his mark on the London dining scene and opened House of Hồ on Old Compton Street.

Despite the name and location in a part of town that’s never been short on after dark activities, House of Hồ is not the local Madam’s business address but in fact a low-lit self-assured Vietnamese restaurant in Soho. The flick and little hat atop the ‘o’ makes all the difference, you see. 

Chinn himself is a showman, awarded no less than Best Entertainment Presenter at the Asian Television Awards for his work presenting five series of World Cafe Asia. And this part of his personality is reflected in the design - confident, sexyily-lit, it’s a space that wants you to flirt with it, and it will flirt back.

They’ve joined a few others in the quite recent trend of boozy Sunday brunch deals that involve the words ‘limitless’ or ‘bottomless’ somewhere in the marketing spiel (also Flesh & Buns, Roka, Bunga Bunga, One Canada Square). Which, for lazy, slow-paced Sundays with requirements to feed sorry souls out of hangovers and into the cold light of day with vibrant, zippy dishes - or, just more alcohol - is more than appealing. 

Not that anyone with a hangover wants to see the cold light of day. Maybe that’s why it’s so dark in there - clever.

The main difference between the £36 and £29 menus is that the former offers a greater choice of both starters and mains (the more expensive one includes the shaking beef - the best thing I ate), the option of dessert, and cocktail pitchers. The format of both menus include one choice of main and unlimited starters, sides, prosecco and wine. But before you think about pitching up tent for the full 12pm - 5pm duration, visits are subject to a two hour turnaround.

Soft smoked aubergine topped with a sweetened fish sauce and crispy shallots, with astringency from lemon, slipped down with ease. Duch pho cuon were sprightly meat salads with mint and shiso leaf, packed into wide rings of flat noodle, with a hot dipping sauce like a runnier Sriracha. Summer rolls were fat and fresh, stuffed with noodles, carrot matchsticks, lettuce, more mint, the presence of aniseed, and a dark and glossy peanut sauce for lubrication. 

Seven-spiced marinated squid had the air of Nice ‘n’ Spicy Nik Naks about them - no bad thing, let me assure you. Cubes of lemongrass chicken furry with the fibre from ginger, packed a good citrus punch, while the “shaking beef” with oyster sauce, soy and whole peppercorns came in exquisite, expertly cooked, quivering chunks.

For sides, a pile of little juicy buds of a flower I caught as ‘thin-li’, but I no doubt heard it wrong or have spelt it wrong as I can find no presence of it online. Regardless, briefly cooked and doused in lime, they were glorious and different, and so they ran out of them by 13.15. I’m certain they just weren’t ready for it’s popularity. To replace it, a bowl of fleshy jackfruit cooked with good flavours. It all finished with a splendid crème brûlée which you might think has no place in a Vietnamese restaurant, but don't forget the country was under French rule for some time.

The bloody mary I ordered never arrived, and I had to put in a second request for the summer rolls before they appeared. Other than that, the staff and kitchen seemed to be on top of what was a full-house, never ending top-ups and constant orders. 

Did I mention on Sundays they have a live band playing grown-up versions of rock pop classics like Oasis and Nirvana? Well, that was cool too.

House of Hồ isn’t trying to replicate the simple ten-seater road-side pho shacks you might find down a back street in Hanoi, where they cook meat over a little barbecue fire on the pavement and you eat it straight off the stick. When you want that sort of no-frills authenticity with vibrant dishes to match - and those times are more frequent than not - head towards Kingsland Road for the likes of Mien Tay (also in Battersea), Sông Quê and Viet Grill. 

But when you want a sexy, fast-paced, buzzing, centrally located Vietnamese with a modern twist and most likely a smattering of Chinn’s eclectic upbringing on the rest of the menu, this is a solid shout.  

Liked lots: shaking beef - a shame that isn't bottomless, flower buds, choice of music, value for money
Liked less: you do feel like you’re clock watching a bit, trying to catch a waiter to get a final order or two in before your two hours are up. But that could just have been me imposing that feeling on myself - I’m not sure who was actually watching the clock in there
Good for: feeding a hangover, hair of the dog, drinking too much, eating too much, not having to eat again that day

My rating: 3.5/5

Afiyet olsun.

Note: I was invited as a guest to this restaurant.

uyen luu's vietnamese supper club - review

It’s Chinese New Year today. An observation difficult to miss what with the press coverage, fireworks, liberal references to ‘galloping’ over the year’s threshold (it’s that of the horse), and a heightened buzz about all the Chinatowns of the world as preparations for festivities and feasting are in full swing. 

Whilst Chinese New Year is well-represented across the globe, it is probably less commonly known (at least, I didn’t know) that today is also Tết, Vietnamese New Year. It’s the most important of the country’s annual festivities and falls on the same day as the Chinese celebrations as it is based on their calendar. 

By a very well-placed coincidence and with no prior knowledge of what Tết was, myself and some friends happened to have long-overdue spaces secured at Uyen Luu’s Vietnamese Supper Club for this very evening - happy new year indeed.

With around 29 guests packed into the long and narrow living room of Uyen’s East London home and with the help of an assistant, the evening saw our tables furnished with signature light and fragrant plates - slow-cooked meats, fresh vegetables and some bites packing powerful chilli punches. 

Summer rolls were large, fat and firm; the taught translucent rice paper skin partially concealing plump prawns. A crisp and vibrant cross-section - green from cockscombe, perilla, garlic chives, mint and coriander - revealed itself after the first bite. One of these dipped into the pineapple and chilli sauce was light enough to sit very eloquently atop my meat-heavy lunch, and I was very grateful for it.

If it being Tết meant this was my annual opportunity to get my chops around some Vietnamese New Year sticky rice cake (banh chung), then thank crikey for the timing, because whilst it didn’t look especially promising, this was my favourite plate. Served with mung bean, pork belly, thick soy, Vietnamese sausage and pickled leeks, the flavours were strong and unafraid to give you a shake by the jowls. Not to mention the glutinous rice, soft meat and crunchy pickles providing a great texture combination.

Tender slithers of rump steak cooked with lemongrass and tightly wrapped in betal leaves with a peanut sauce were slender fingers of savoury satisfaction, and the zesty salad platters of carrot, cucumber, mint, poached prawns and pork belly were vibrant, vivid and full of vitality.

A combination of soft pork and prawn manipulated around the end of a stick of sugar cane had all the novelty (to those not already acquainted with these) of a grown up lollipop. The meat is eaten first, followed by mastication (but not consumption) of the cane to extract the sweet juices. My Taiwanese companion has tried a lot of these and declared at the table with full conviction, ‘these are the best I’ve ever had’.  

The meat of the slow-cooked pork belly in coconut water was a little tough, but the fat was buttery and rich, served with pickled lotus stems with a pixie-like beauty in their miniature seven-holed cross sections. Their fibre can be pulled into strings as fine as spider silk with your teeth, as demonstrated by the Taiwanese in the know (the rest of us were squealing like the kids with lollipops we were).

A chicken and bamboo noodle soup had wonderful soft meat and a delicate, refreshing broth - the tiny slices of red chillies served on a side plate were fruity and hot enough to blow the top of your head off and melt the contents, like a soft boiled egg.

To cool the tongue, an avocado and coconut sorbet. A novel flavour and one that grows with every spoonful - at first interpreted as frozen salad. But the fatty creaminess of avocado is in fact a great medium for a dessert expected to have similar qualities. It worked really well - I’d like to have this again. The little ginger biscuits were excellent and I shoved another three in my mouth that were sitting in a bowl by the front door on my way out.

The full throes of friends enjoying good food and wine was enjoyed at a high decibel and with temperatures a tad too toasty - that many people in a standard-sized living space next to a kitchen that’s been flat out all day will do that. 

Whilst portion sizes need to be more consistent (both my banh chung and pork belly were much smaller than my companions) and perhaps two summer rolls and lollipops served each rather than one (to fill any remaining space in the gut on departure), every course was thoroughly enjoyable and very well received.

The donation for this supper club is £35 plus a little extra suggested for the helper - so £40. The value is good, but doesn’t quite match others that have either had more food, included welcome drinks and canapés, used some luxury ingredients, or all of the above, for the same or similar price. That said, it’s a great introduction to the supper club scene and we had a riot. You’ll find future dates of Uyen’s supper club on her website.

A huge thanks to Uyen’s hard work and for dishing out some very good food.

Liked lots: all of the food, but particularly the banh chung Vietnamese New Year cake and avocado sorbet 
Liked less: it was a little too toasty and noisy - could perhaps do with a few less people; without sounding like a pig, one more course would have gone down well 
Good for: an introduction to the London supper club scene

My rating: 3.5

Afiyet olsun.

fresh spring rolls

The sticky pork ribs contained flavours from the Orient - soy, Shaoxing rice wine, Sichuan peppercorns, garlic and ginger and I knew they'd be crying out for something light, fresh and crisp to help compliment the viscid richness of the glaze smothering all that meat. Sticking with the theme, some fresh spring rolls with a punchy dip was decided upon.

I've mentioned the huge Chinese supermarket Hoo-Hing a few minutes walk from my house before here, and it was from Hoo-Hing that I procured some rice paper sheets for the spring rolls. It's the first time I've used them and they're pretty cool - hard and brittle circular sheets of what initially looks and feels like plastic with some sort of embossed pattern on them. To transform them into something more workable, simply dip into a bowl of luke warm water until they become soft and delicate. They tend to stick to themselves once out of the water so it takes a couple of goes to get the knack and not tear them.

Rice paper rolls are common in Vietnamese cuisine - served soft and can be filled with crisp vegetables and herbs and eaten cold, as opposed to other spring rolls people may be used to which use thin pastry as the casing, are fried and served crispy and hot.

You can really compose the salad of anything you want. For example I haven't included any bean sprouts or water chestnuts, both of which would provide some lovely additional texture. But stick to the dressing / dip and tweak to taste as you wish. And of course, serve with those sticky ribs.

Fresh spring rolls

Makes 12 - 14

For the salad
50g dried vermicelli or fine rice noodles (see Tip below)
1 baby gem lettuce
2 spring onions
1 large carrot, grated
A load of chopped coriander
A load of chopped Thai basil
A load of chopped fresh mint leaves
Juice of two limes
12-14 rice paper sheets

For the dipping sauce
2 tbsp caster sugar
2 tbsp rice vinegar
60ml fish sauce
2 red chillies, deseeded and finely chopped
1 garlic clove, peeled and grated
1 spring onion
A sprinkle of chopped coriander
A sprinkle of chopped mint

To rehydrate the vermicelli noodles, soak them in boiling water for 3-4 minutes until they become soft. Drain and refresh under cold water. Shake off excess water and leave to one side.

Tip You can see the brand of noodles I bought in the picture, also from the Chinese supermarket. You might have difficulty finding this and rice paper in a standard supermarket. It's certainly worth locating your nearest one if you haven't already. And they're actually 95% mung bean - which I thought was cool.

To make the dipping sauce, mix the sugar, rice vinegar, fish sauce, chillies and garlic and mix well until the sugar has dissolved. Add the remaining ingredients. Mix, taste and adjust accordingly.

To make the rolls, roughly chop the noodles in a bowl and mix with the vegetables and herbs. Add the lime juice along with 2 tablespoons of the dipping sauce and mix together. Taste and adjust the seasoning, adding more of the sauce if needed.

Dip a rice paper in a bowl of luke warm water until soft and pliable. Splash a board with a little water before placing a rice paper on it (this will stop it sticking). Put a spoonful of micture into the centre of the paper and fold the bottom up and the sides in, then roll up tightly into a spring roll shape. Repeat with the remaining mixture and rice papers.

Tip If your water is too hot, the rice paper will become soft too quickly for you to be able to handle properly and you'll inevitably end up tearing them. So stick to luke warm water.

Tip You can make the rolls ahead and keep them in the fridge until you're ready to serve. I think it's better this way as the rice paper gets a chance to harden slightly which in my opinion provides a better texture.

Serve them with the dipping sauce on the side and enjoy.

Alfiyet olsun.