By Alex Reeves - @afreeves23

It always comes back to phở. It’s the sustenance that fuels the busy drive of the Vietnamese, from farm to boardroom. It’s the cure. Feeling under the weather? A few too many shandies last night? A bowl of the good stuff will bring you back around in no time. Top of the must-eat list for every tourist. It’s a symbol of pride, locally, nationally and now on the world stage. Like ramen, it is the iconic broth of a nation.

While many abroad certainly have a harder time pronouncing it than enjoying it, they never mistake its origin. Eternally associated with modern mentions of Việt Nam, this dish alone has gone a long way towards introducing the world to Vietnamese food, opening the door to what is now one of the most respected cuisines on the ever-spinning galactic rock we call home.

Phở is many things, but it’s never simple. Within the balance of flavours simmering away in the broth are conversations, even debates, that surround its flavour, profile and origins. God knows, I’ve known it was a tricky topic since my first-ever review for Việt Nam News, covering the famous Phở Thìn at 13 Lò Đúc Street.

Despite its enduring popularity, local friends told me that it wasn’t “really phở” and that it ought to be considered a separate dish. Others dismissed this as snobbery or traditionalism. I’m still none the wiser.

There’s the North vs South debate, and while there’s little argument over which end of the country the dish ‘belongs’ to, there is a conversation to be had about whose is tastier. The southern: sweeter, aromatic and most internationally available, accompanied by sriracha and hoisin, exported to foreign taste buds through the Vietnamese diaspora. The northern: more savoury, umami version lets the broth do the work, leaving seasoning to individual preference.

I’ve since had the pleasure of sitting down with food and travel writer David Farley during his most recent visit to Việt Nam to conduct field research for an upcoming piece on the origins of the country’s best-known broth. The plot thickened with controversy as China was thrown into the mix.

Without elaborating further for fear of becoming Nam Định’s public enemy number one and facing the potential retribution of phở-fuelled patriots in the comment section, I recommend keeping an eye out for Mr Farley’s piece. I anticipate he will be much braver with the pen than I.

So, when reading with a furrowed brow a post referencing a phở/poutine combination, considering everything I knew about this sacred broth, my first thought was, “Why would you mess with this?” Knowing how much phở means here, who is out there straddling the line between bravery and madness with the nation's most beloved dish?

I was unsure whether this foray into fusion upon which I’d stumbled would spark a culinary culture war or was an East-meets-West inspiration. Either way, I was heading to HCM City.

The first thing you will notice about this noodle shop down an unassuming side street in Bình Thạnh District (now Bình Thạnh Ward) is that it is yellow, very yellow. Yellow enough for you to ask the question, why is this place so yellow? The answer sums up the heart- and belly-warming reality of Phở Chào. I’m told that the colour reminds staff and customers alike of the rays of sunshine that the restaurant's matriarch, Mama Dung, brings into their lives.

My question of who would be brave enough to experiment so confidently with such a classic was soon answered. Mama Dung has faced up to a lot more than just culinary scepticism. Her first shop opened up north back in 1986, serving original Nam Định-style phở, with a family recipe passed down through generations, but sadly a cancer diagnosis brought about its closure in 2016.

She subsequently moved to HCM City, focusing on the best care and recovery with her loved ones, her broth slinging days seemingly behind her. 

Five years later, in better health, her daughter Linh insisted that people should taste her mother’s food. So, with the same love and support that helped her through tough times, Phở Chào was born, and to add a real fairytale element to things, Michelin was impressed enough to award them a Bib Gourmand in 2023, which they have since retained.

I couldn’t hide a smile when learning the family had genuinely thought it a prank when receiving their invitation to the inaugural Vietnamese ceremony via airmail from Hong Kong.

Pride, adversity, recognition. Thematically, this is a truly wonderful story, of that there is no doubt. But how about the food? The service? A good story does not a Michelin award win. Attention and acknowledgment from the world’s best known food guide isn’t awarded on narrative, but on merit.

The beauty of the Bib Gourmand is that it cuts through a layer of pretension, freeing those selected to focus on their specialities instead of getting lost in the mission to over-innovate. Credit must also be given for the fact Mama has not passed on the impact of Michelin attention to her customers, with prices remaining static thus far.

I’m pleased to report no sting in the tail here, no unhappy ending. Having visited with a native ‘Nam Dinher’ who was more than satisfied with the clarity of the broth, we both noted a pleasant lack of the oiliness that can occasionally be found in lesser-quality bowls.

The flavour was rich without being overpowering, and we were equally pleased with the impact of the chilli and hoisin sauces alongside, which I’m told are made entirely in-house, with strictly no Cholimex found on the premises.

The same applies to the three-day beef-bone stock, with no MSG or artificial sweeteners involved whatsoever, as true connoisseurs will notice.

That, however, is not why I visited. I was there for the cheese curd/fries/beef soup. Yes, I may have been charmed by the homely, quirky décor, influenced by the eccentric Papa Chào and his broad collection of vintage keepsakes on display. Impressed by the bright and bubbly staff that, thankfully, didn’t hover to ask us how everything was.

But I was there to find out how Canada and Việt Nam could possibly have a culinary love child that wasn’t being hidden away in the attic. It turns out that the secret to getting something that sounds so forbidden to work so well, is actually quite simple: reduction.

The signature ‘Phở-Tine’ getting the attention here came about from Linh’s travels in Canada. After enjoying poutine, she asked her mother if there was a way to combine the homely flavours of phở with her new favourite. After reducing their famous broth into a rich gravy and smothering it over a portion of chunky fries, melted mature cheddar, herbs, vegetables and generous slices of beef, they developed a warming new take on these classics.

My fears of a gimmick were quickly dispelled as I found two things I love dearly merged into one. The flavours of phở are present through the gravy, herbs and beef, which when combined with a body of potatoes and cheese, satisfied an almost primal craving for my northern British palate.

With a second branch fully underway in Phú Quốc and groundwork being laid to take things international, the future seems bright for Phở Chào. Their signature dish is as hangover-curing to me as their traditional phở for someone from these shores, and I sincerely wish they would make it up to Hà Nội before winter.

Far from the blasphemous bowl I thought I would be tasting, this isn’t really phở at all, more a stew of biblical proportions, and the pitchforks can most certainly be put away for now. This is a proper 'mom-and-pop store' done good, showcasing a family’s spirit and willingness to experiment, and I’m here for it. VNS

Phở Chào

Address: 52 Nguyễn Công Trứ Street, Bình Thạnh, HCM City

Tel: 0902701208

Price: Phở-Tine VND90,000-140,000; Phở Bò/Gà VND50,000-70,000

Top Tip: Bring friends and share to enjoy Mama’s signature wings and the Ragu-Tine.