It was a chilly Monday in November, and I was feeling slightly under the weather. I wanted something hot and delicious to warm me up, and for some reason I had pho on the brain. I live in Astoria, Queens, so there’s no shortage of yummy food options, but the iconic Vietnamese beef noodle soup was calling my name.
I made my way from my apartment on 34th Street to Broadway — the Queens Broadway, not the Manhattan one — and ventured into District Saigon, a Vietnamese restaurant that had been open about a year. I’d had District Saigon once, and I remembered it being pretty good, so I figured I’d give it another shot.
The place was dimly lit and furnished in a sleek neo-Asian style. I was shown to a table by a cute, slightly curvy Vietnamese chick who flashed me a big smile as I sat down. There was one couple in their 20’s to my right, a single guy to my left, and another couple that arrived later, but other than that I had the joint to myself.
I was now good and hungry, and ready for some Vietnamese comfort food. I scanned the menu briefly. There were only two choices to make. Should I: A) get the ½ pho and ½ banh mi special instead of a full pho order? And regarding the pho, should I get beef or chicken? I was leaning strongly toward beef, but I figured I’d ask the waitress anyway.
“What do you recommend, the beef, or the chicken?” I asked when she came to take my order.
“They’re both good, but the beef is the more authentic way to have it,” she replied.
That was all I needed to hear. I ordered the beef pho, and decided to make it a full order, because although I like a good banh mi, I was really in the mood for something that would warm my insides and comfort my aching soul. The waitress smiled her approval, and I was good to go.
Approximately five minutes later my pho arrived. It looked and smelled incredible. It was accompanied by a small dish of jalapeno peppers, and a dish filled with hoisin sauce on one side and that classic Vietnamese sauce, Sriracha, on the other. My smiling waitress friend, who was growing on me by the minute — and getting cuter too — told me that I could slowly spoon the sauces into the broth as I ate.
She departed, and I dug in.
Wow!
This soup was incredible. I used my chopsticks to eat the noodles, which were soft and tender, and also to try the beef slices, which were salty and meaty. Everything was absolutely delicious.
But here’s the kicker. In my rush to eat the noodles and beef, probably because I was so hungry, I almost entirely neglected the broth. The waitress had included a spoon on the table, but I hadn’t seen it hiding behind the jalapeno tray. And I was just so darn hungry that I forgot all about the most important element, the most incredible thing, the object that is the real star of the show in a good pho: the broth!
I picked up the whole bowl, raised it to my mouth, and slurped away. Jesus. What had I missed? There was just so much freaking flavor packed into that broth. With each slurp from the bowl I felt it hit the back of my throat powerfully, as if all the myriad herbs and spices were throwing a party in my esophagus. It was absolute sensory overload, but in a great way.
After several large slurps, I began using the spoon, just to demonstrate I could be civilized too. And that’s when I fell in love with pho. It’s such a complex, layered, textural flavor experience, and it really feels like there’s a Cornucopia of soothing palate pleasing pleasure in every sip.
While I ate I googled what spices went into a typical pho, and what I found was that the broth for beef pho is usually made by simmering beef bones, oxtails, flank steak, charred onion, charred ginger and spices. At District Saigon the menu said theirs was made with round steak and angus brisket. Typical spices include Saigon cinnamon — which is native to Southeast Asia — or other kinds of cinnamon, star anise, roasted ginger, roasted onion, black cardamom, coriander seed, fennel seed, and clove.
I cook a fair amount, and I consider myself decently versed on spices. But I rarely use any of the spices that go into a pho, so I couldn’t detect what spices I was tasting as I sipped from the spoon. What I did taste was sweet, salty, beefy, rich, cinnamony, and almost coffee or something like it. That’s what the broth tasted like to me.
Whenever I sipped from the bowl with a spoon it was very very good. But when I took a big slurp from the bowl everything collected at the back of my throat, and there was a slight burn that was just incredible sweet spicy umami greatness. I had added a little sriracha sauce and Hoisin sauce to the broth, but I think it was just the natural herbs and spices in the soup that gave me that feeling.
I stayed at my table for a full hour savoring the last brilliant sips of my pho. When I was finally done the waitress came over to take my bowl.
“How did you like it?” she asked.
“It was fantastic!” I practically screamed.
“Yeah the beef really is the best way, because it gives you the most unique smell and flavor, more than the chicken,” she said.
I have never had chicken pho, but I took the waitress at her word, as she had steered me right all afternoon.
I paid the bill and left the restaurant, and made the short walk back to my apartment on 34th Street. I was now full, content, and warm all over. The pho had worked its magic, and my aching bones and slight cold felt a lot better. Good job, District Saigon . Well done.
