Broth of the wild: How Pho stole my soul on Somerset Street.
There’s something about a smell. The way it punches you in the gut and tickles your brain before you’ve even crossed the threshold. That was my first introduction to Pho Thu Do on Somerset Street in Ottawa. I was fresh-faced, working for Environment Canada, and clueless about what lay beyond the unassuming door of that Vietnamese restaurant. My boss, a culinary Sherpa of sorts, decided it was time for me to get an education—not in climate science, but in broth, noodles, and the kind of alchemy that happens when you let simple ingredients sing together.
The smell hit me first: sweet, beefy, and impossibly rich, like an embrace from a kitchen you didn’t know you missed. My mouth watered, my stomach growled, and I knew this wasn’t just lunch—it was going to be a revelation.
We were ushered to a small table, already set with green tea and a basket brimming with large wooden spoons and chopsticks. A cluster of sauces—sriracha, hoisin, something fermented—hinted at mysteries to come. I didn’t even know how to order, so I leaned on my boss’s experience. “Just get what I get,” he said, smiling.
Enter the special. A bowl of pho so unapologetically loaded it felt like a dare. Rare beef, fatty brisket, tendon, tripe, beef balls, chicken, and—why the hell not—a quail egg. This wasn’t just soup. It was a microcosm of flavor, texture, and tradition, cradled in a steaming, translucent broth.
The server brought out a plate piled high with fresh bean sprouts, dandelion leaves, Thai basil, and Birds Eye chilies. I had no idea what to do with it. Was this a garnish? A side salad? My boss and the other diners started shoving it all into their bowls like it was second nature. When in Rome—or in this case, Saigon via Ottawa—I followed suit, plunging the greens and sprouts into the soup and watching them soften and meld into the broth.
I took my first bite.
Words like “delicious” or “tasty” don’t even begin to cut it. The broth was clean but complex, a silky caress of savory umami punctuated by the snap of chilies and the heady perfume of basil. The meats—tender, gelatinous, chewy—each brought their own story to the table. Even the tripe, something I’d never willingly put in my mouth before, melted into the experience, its texture a counterpoint to the tender beef and slurpy noodles.
This wasn’t just eating; it was participating. I dipped, stirred, tasted, and adjusted with lime and sauces until I found my own perfect balance. It felt like being handed the controls to a jet and told to fly.
That meal ruined me—in the best way. Every other bowl of soup I’d had up until that moment was child’s play. Pho wasn’t just a dish; it was an epiphany. And now, years later, as I stand over a pot of simmering broth, I still chase that first taste. I’ll never fully replicate it, but that’s the beauty of it. It was more than the ingredients or the recipe. It was the place, the company, the moment.
Food like that isn’t just about sustenance. It’s a gateway to another world—a world of flavor, culture, and, yes, even love. Because after that first bowl of pho, I was hooked.
Somerset Street, PHO THU DO. It’s where I learned that soup could be a religion. And I’ve been a devout follower ever since.
Pho: Vietnamese beef noodle soup
Ingredients
For the broth:
- 4- inch 10cm chunky section of ginger, unpeeled
- 450 g yellow onion unpeeled
- 3 kg beef marrow bones knuckle and/or neck bones ok too
- 5.5 litres water
- 5 star anise
- 6 whole cloves
- 1 large piece of cinnamon bark 3-inches
- 675 g beef brisket
- 15 g Chinese yellow rock sugar
- 1 tbsp fine sea salt
- 1/4 cup fish sauce
For the bowls:
- 565 g dried narrow flat rice noodles
- Cooked beef from the broth sliced 3mm thick
- Small 3 inch chunk of raw steak I like fillet, thinly sliced
- 1/2 medium red onion thinly sliced
- 3-4 thinly sliced green onions
- 1/2 cup fresh coriander chopped
- 1/2 cup fresh basil thai basil preferably, sliced in ribbons
- Thinly sliced red chilli
- Pepper to taste
- Hoisin sauce to taste
- Sriracha sauce to taste
Instructions
Make the broth:
- Pre-heat oven to 200 degrees C. Put ginger and onion on a baking sheet and char in the over till singed black, about 15-20 minutes. Peel the onion and ginger and remove the charred bits (rinse if necessary). Set aside.
- Meanwhile, parboil the bones. Place bones in a large stock pot and put enough water to just cover. Bring to a boil and simmer for 3 minutes. Drain and rinse the bones, clean the pot and return the bones to the pot.
- Pour in the water, partially cover, then bring to a boil over high heat. Uncover and lower the heat to a gentle simmer. Use a ladle or skimmer to remove any scum that rises to the top. Add the charred ginger and onions, the star anise, cloves, cinnamon bark, brisket, rock sugar and salt. Bring to a gentle simmer and cook uncovered for 1.5 hours.
- Remove the brisket, transfer to a bowl, add cold water to cover and soak for 10 minutes to prevent dry, dark meat. Drain and set the meat aside, partially covered, to cool completely before using.
- Meanwhile, maintain the broth at a steady simmer for another 1.5 hours.
- When the broth is done, let rest for 20 minutes. Use tongs to remove bones. Skim some fat from the broth, then strain it through a mesh strainer positioned over a large pot.
- Season the broth with fish sauce, salt (to taste) and rock sugar.
Prep and assemble the bowls:
- About 30 minutes before serving, get the ingredients ready for the bowls. Cook noodles as per package direction and divide noodles among 8 soup bowls.
- Cut the cooked beef in 3mm slices, thinly slice the raw steak.
- For each bowl, top the noodles with the cooked beef, sliced steak. Sprinkle the sliced red onions, green onion, fresh basil and coriander. Finish with a sprinkle of pepper.
- Check the broth flavour once more, then raise the head to bring it to a boil. Ladle about 2 cups of broth into each bowl. Serve immediately with hoisin and sriracha sauce at the table.
