July: Bún Bò Huế

What does bún bò Huế mean to me? Why bún bò Huế?

Bún (noodles) bò (beef) Huế (the city it's from). (Photo credit: Thảo)

One of my favorite memories of bún bò Huế (or, beef noodle soup from Huế, which I will acronymize as “BBH”) is related to the first day I moved from Hà Nội, the city where I developed amazing relationships with my Fulbright crew, to Huế, my city of work and residence as a Fulbright English Teaching Assistant. Here is an excerpt from an old blog post about a slightly embarrassing search for the famous BBH:

[My first day in Huế, I] went searching for some Bun Bo Hue (Hue beef noodle soup), which is one of my favorite Vietnamese dishes (Mi Quang is my ultimate favorite). I walked into the city a little past sundown, and I ended up walking along the streets to avoid the fire and ashes since Vietnamese people tend to burn offerings for their ancestors outside their house on the sidewalk. I let my eyes and stomach guide me as I walked around searching for "Bun Bo Hue." A lot of "Bun Bo, Bun Gio, Bun Ga," but no Bun Bo Hue.

I reached a point where I got to a Jesus statue outside of a church and realized that I was hungrier than I thought. As if He helped me reach a revelation, I turned around, saw the sign "Bun Bo," and realized that I was in Hue... so it would be a bit redundant to advertise "Bun Bo Hue" if I'm already in Hue. Duh, Anna.

I plopped down in a chair, ordered Bun Bo, added the necessary amount of chili, and got down with the delicious bowl of soup. My hunger may have amplified my tastebuds, but it was that point that I decided that I love Hue food -- and that I better find a way to work out to fully enjoy everything I eat here while maintaining my shape. Oh, and did I mention that it was only about $1 per bowl? (Probably less in other places, too.)

Although I declared on my 25th birthday that I would love Huế food, I eventually came to realize that I loved Huế cuisine because my mother raised me on central Vietnamese food. Central Việt Nam, which includes the province of Quảng Nam -- where my parents are from -- and Huế -- the previous imperial capital and widely-known Buddhist capital of the nation, is home to the most diverse and spiciest flavors of the country; living in Việt Nam helped me accurately place the flavor palate of my mother’s cuisine with her regions of influence. 

Since I was traveling to SoCal to emcee my beautiful friends’ wedding, I knew I had to take advantage of this opportunity of being in the area to cook for my family -- under the safest conditions we could set up. I chose BBH because 1) I knew this was a dish that each member of my family loves (including myself), 2) my mom is on a keto diet, so I wanted to make something she could enjoy with an alternative to noodles (she ended up ditching her diet for a day, anyway), and 3) I knew I had to take a break from my mostly vegetarian diet due to my SoCal cravings (pulpo tacos at Oscar’s, and anything my mom makes has a meat base). I had to make a meal that was suitable for the whole family (plus the sisters’ beaus), and this was definitely it.

How did I make bún bò Huế?

Linked is a Google Document with my mother’s recipe. 

To maximize my family’s safety, Andrew and I made arrangements to stay with my sister and Skye, given that we all were in a position to get tested for COVID before seeing each other. In their amazingly spacious kitchen, I made the dish with my sister’s support and my mother’s earlier assist (she provided some of the ingredients and mashed up the lemongrass for me the night before). Spotify’s “Soul Coffee” playlist kept me in the groove. 

Beef (and pig's feet). It's what's for dinner.

To present the dinner, Thảo, Skye, Andrew, and I brought the cooked and prepared ingredients to my parents’ house. We reheated the broth, Thảo and I placed the ingredients in the bowls to create the final product, and my mom saved dinner by providing backup cilantro and green onions -- which I forgot at Skye’s place. (I feel like immigrant mothers always have a backup herb in their refrigerator or freezer.)

You can see where the good genes come from. 

Who tried my bún bò Huế?

Left to right: Eggsy, Thảo, Skye, Mom, Dad, Andrew
Background: Items that are no longer relevant to the household, but too full of nostalgia to throw away.

We had a chance to dine as a whole family in my parents’ open garage -- a quick solution to an unfortunate bug infestation in their backyard.

How was it?

I am still glowing from my week-long vacation to SoCal, which makes the dinner one of the most positive experiences I’ve had in a long time. 

To provide more context, I took three weeks off work, only to spend the first two weeks engaging in work from home anyway. So when I took this intentional time to disconnect and spend time with family, I allowed myself to completely be at ease. While staying with Thảo and Skye, I routinely woke up every morning to let Eggsy out, then we returned to the couch for me to read and for him to chew away at his toys until the rest of the house woke up. (Yes, even Eggsy was completely relaxed in comparison to how he is back at home with us; until that point, I had not experienced him being able to lay quietly next to me for longer than 10 minutes at a time.) Whatever happened next was based on what Thảo and I were in the mood for -- whether it was binging on Netflix/Hulu shows, biking down to the beach with Eggsy in my backpack, getting hooked onto the Peloton app, or cooking/eating whenever we wanted. Andrew and I are pretty regimented people, and given Thảo’s and Skye’s hospitality and accommodating personalities, we were able to take a break from who we typically are and just enjoy ourselves.

Our favorite land seal

Eggsy's face always looks this disappointed. (Photo credit: Thảo)

Our amazing hosts, and proof that Eggsy always looks disappointed. 

The BBH dinner was the third and final night we had dinner with my parents. We caught up with my parents and my uncle, Cậu Trường, the previous two evenings. (Unfortunately, Cậu was too hungover from our nhậu session the evening before to make it to our BBH dinner.) So our BBH dinner was a bit bittersweet; it was going to be our last dinner together before Andrew and I left the Los Angeles area to continue our vacation. I would say the most common theme of the evenings we spent together was how ridiculously cute Eggsy was. (I’d like to think I have provided my parents the best grandchild they could ask for, and that I have saved me and my sister from the unnecessary nudges that parents usually give women our age about societally-expected next steps.) 

Exhibit A: Eggsy being photographed in a baby pen.

Exhibit B: Eggsy being coddled by Mom.

Exhibit C: Eggsy seeking help after being coddled for the 23409384th time in a row.

But I digress. The BBH was great. The broth was fragrant and spicy, and the beef was tender. I didn’t have any pig’s feet, but everyone else around me (except Skye, because that’s not his jam either) seemed fine with it. I basked in my mother’s verbal compliments and my father’s nonverbal cues; it can’t get any better than someone getting down with your food without taking a break to talk or breathe. 

I asked my father about how he came to love BBH, and his simple answer was, “It was everywhere growing up.” From what I understand, even growing up in Đà Nẵng, which is a three-hour drive from Huế itself, BBH was sold as a common dish -- which I feel I understand given my first day experience in Huế. If it’s everywhere, why not love it?