Baby It’s Cold Outside: Jessica’s Spontaneous Pho Experience
So, I don’t cook. I’m not even being coy, I really don’t. I happen to be fortunate enough to live in the middle of the city surrounded by cute cheap restaurants, and even when I feel like eating at home it tends to be microwaved rice served with mushroom soup. Yesterday, however, I was suddenly struck by the urge to make pho. It was a strange feeling. Could one non-cooking white girl spontaneously make pho at home? It was time to find out, and I had to document the efforts for future dinners.
The Pre-Amble
1. Look on the Internets to see what usually goes in pho. Make a grocery list which you will forget about and leave at home when it’s time to go shopping.
2. Time to go shopping! I went to the local Asian and standard supermarkets. Some things will likely be unavailable. Improvising is good.
Kitchen Work, Phase One
1. Cut up a bunch of onion and a hunk of ginger into really small pieces. Saute them with a little olive oil in a big soup pot. After a couple of minutes, throw in some stewing beef, also cut into really small pieces. Add salt and pepper.
2. Lament your lack of knife skills. Oh, sure, I CAN chop an onion, given a blade and some time, but it’s usually a laborious process that involves at least one onion explosion and one near miss on my fingers.
3. Add herbs. I included dried cilantro because everyone was out of fresh. I also threw in some anise, because no one had star anise and I don’t know what the difference is anyway, and crushed chili peppers. Oh, and nutmeg. I think pho is supposed to have cinnamon, but I couldn’t find it in the cupboard and I figured they’re the same color. Plus, I like eggnog, and nutmeg reminds me of eggnog!
4. When everything is nice and brown and cooked, add two boxes of beef stock and a bunch of fish sauce. Now is also a good time to stare pensively at the quantity of fluid in the pot and add another helping of the above spices.
5. Find the cinnamon behind the peppercorns. Think about it for a second, then add a big helping of cinnamon. What the hell.
6. Bring to a boil, then cover and simmer.
The Waiting Game
1. Wait three hours and try not to think about how tasty it will be or how you wish you were eating it right now. I recommend television, video games, or just taking a nap, which is what I did.
2. Taste it occasionally, make a little face, and add more spices or water as appropriate to undo whatever you did last time you tasted it. If available, have someone else taste it so they can tell you what they think is wrong with it, and you can tell them to shut the hell up because it’s not their soup anyway.
Kitchen Work, Phase Two
1. Get a big bowl! No, bigger.
2. Boil some water for the rice stick noodles. They should cook for about 3 minutes, then rince in warm water.
3. Thinly slice a little bit of onion, thai hot pepper, and green onion, and put in the bowl. Tear up some fresh basil and throw it in, and add a big helping of bean sprouts because they are way good for you.
4. Add some very thinly sliced beef. There was some prepackaged at the Asian grocery store. Add the noodles.
5. You could strain the broth, and in fact I’m sure most people would. I’m hungry and impatient, though, and the onions, ginger, and stewing beef had pretty much disintegrated anyway so whatever. Poor broth into the bowl until the beef slices are covered.
6. Eat it with a spoon and chop sticks, making sure to frequently let out little ‘yummy!’ noises at anyone who is around.
