Why pho tastes different depending on where you are

The country’s ubiquitous noodle soup is relatively new, but has traveled and changed with the tides of history.

In the buzzing matrix of Hanoi’s old quarter sits Phở Thìn, one of 700-or-so pho restaurants that speckle this thousand-year-old city. Phở Thìn is practically outfitted with stainless steel tables, embellished by jars and shakers, over wastebaskets for the innumerable spent lime rinds and napkins requisite for enjoying Vietnam’s beloved national dish. Beneath the whirr of fans and clank of lids, diners pore over their bowls of phở bò (beef pho), which owner Nguyễn Trọng Thìn has been serving here since 1979.  

Nguyễn opened Phở Thìn in the scarce years following the Vietnam War, hoping it would always enable him to feed his newborn son. A fiercely proud Hanoian from a family that has resided in this very neighborhood for 10 generations, Nguyễn developed his pho recipe, slightly smoky with extra spring onion, 46 years ago with his northern city’s people at heart.  

“People in Hanoi, especially artists, are known to be very picky about their food,” says Nguyen, an artist by trade himself. “But if you make good pho, people will know it, and they’ll come.” 

About 7,000 miles west, in Oakland, California, Tee Tran opened Monster Pho in 2014. In 1987, at age three, Tee fled the southern city of Saigon by boat with his mom and brothers, living in refugee camps before settling in California. He grew up adoring his mother’s southern style of cooking, and his restaurant is true to those recipes. “Pho is our staple; it’s what we grew up on,” says Tee. “We’d beg our mom to make it when we were little.” 

Today, throughout Vietnam and across the world, people are sitting down for a bowl of pho. An unexpectedly new dish in Vietnam’s long culinary history, this aromatic soup of flat rice noodles, meat, and herbs has traveled far beyond its original roots over a century of change. If you taste closely, each bowl can tell you a lot about where it’s been. 

The origins of pho

The widely accepted story begins at the end of the 19th century, 50 miles from Hanoi in Nam Dinh province. Situated on the Red River Delta, the area abounded with fertile rice paddies, where farmers kept cows as labor animals while locals preferred to eat other meats, such as water buffalo. But 1898 brought an influx of French laborers to build what would become the largest textile plant in colonized Indochina, and with the French, an appetite for beef. 

“The Vietnamese saw the way the French were using beef, and they were like, ‘You’re kind of wasteful,’” says Khanh Linh Trinh, a PhD candidate at the University of Michigan studying Vietnamese culinary history. Left with the bones and scraps, prudent local cooks boiled the first version of pho broth, pouring it over noodles and meat to create a new variation of soups they’d known for generations and selling it to both local and French laborers.  

When these workers journeyed to Hanoi for construction of the Long Biên Bridge, pho vendors followed, and the soup took root in the capital. “People in the North really value the purity of the broth,” says Trinh, who is from Hanoi and attributes the northern preference for delicate pho broth in part to the influence of Southern Chinese people in the region. 

Vietnam was split after the French defeat at Dien Bien Phu in 1954, and nearly a million Northerners moved south. Pho migrated with them and gained popularity below the 17th parallel, adapting to the local preferences in each area. Incorporating new preferences, Southern pho broth evolved to be sweeter, darker, and richer.  

In 1975, Northern troops captured Saigon, ending the Vietnam War and bringing about massive migrations. Hundreds of thousands of Southern Vietnamese, like Tee, fled to the United States, France, and Australia, building distinctly Vietnamese communities in places like San Jose, California.

Around the same time, Vietnam’s new communist government began sending people, mostly Northerners, to study and work in the Soviet Union. Some of them stayed, followed by friends and family, growing significant Northern Vietnamese populations in Germany, the Czech Republic, and other former Soviet nations.  

Among the memories that traveled with each, were their distinct recipes for pho, carrying regional versions of the dish all over the world.  

“A lot of Chinese restaurants were run by Vietnamese people who didn’t have the confidence to introduce Vietnamese food,” says Trinh Thuy Duong, a Vietnamese food blogger who moved from Hanoi to Prague with her family in the 90s, adding that authentic Vietnamese food was only offered in Vietnamese markets. “But around 2010, one family opened a pho restaurant in the center of Prague. There were lines out the door.”  

Pho restaurants began opening all over the city, serving the clear, savory northern style brought by so many to Prague. One, Pho 100, even makes their own fresh noodles (banh pho, the namesake of the dish). Around the same time, Trinh Thuy Duong found the confidence to begin offering tours of the original Vietnamese market, introducing more dishes to those inspired by their first taste of pho.  

How pho is made 

Northern or Southern, broth is the heart of pho. In Hanoi and Oakland, respectively, Nguyễn and Tee begin their broths the same way, with marrow-rich beef bones, parboiled to remove impurities before simmering for up to 12 hours. As the bones whisper their flavors, the chefs add onion, ginger, and the spices that have given pho its distinguishing aroma for generations—including star anise, cardamom, cinnamon, and coriander.  

Here, their processes begin to diverge. Nguyễn spices his northern broth with restraint, keeping it light and elegant as his customers have enjoyed for nearly 50 years. Tee dispenses liberally, building the rich southern brew as his mother does, adding rock sugar to bring forward the meaty sweetness.  

To assemble the dish, the flat rice noodles, slightly wider in northern style, are briefly blanched and strained, creating a springy bed for the sliced beef and onions before the steaming broth is poured over it all prior to serving.  

Waiting on the table in a southern-style restaurant, be it in California or Ho Chi Minh City, will be bean sprouts, fresh herbs like Thai basil, hoisin, and sriracha, reminiscent of Cantonese and Thai influence in Southern Vietnam. A northern-style table will sport subtler trimmings, like pickled garlic, chili sauce, and lime. 

Here, cook hands the story to the diner, who garnishes the pho to their liking. For Tee, it’s “a little bit of everything,” while Khanh Linh Trinh would consider hoisin in her clear, Northern pho as sacrilege. In Prague, Trinh Thuy Duong orders her pho with banh quay, fried dough sticks beloved among northern pho eaters. 

But whatever disagreement exists over which version is better; it tends to go quiet once it’s time to eat. “It’s hard to fight with people about their favorite foods,” says Trinh. “It’s very intimate.”  

Where to eat pho in Vietnam  

Phở Gia Truyền Bát Đàn, Hanoi  

Translating to “family heirloom pho,” Phở Gia Truyền is a fantastic example of Hanoi-style pho. Diners can choose from a variety of beef styles, including the popular tái (rare steak), nạm (flank), and chín (lean beef). While Hanoians tend to eat pho for breakfast, Phở Gia Truyền is open all day long.   

Pho Lien, Hoi An 

On Vietnam’s central coast, Pho Lien offers another delicious regional take, with crushed roasted peanuts and pickled papaya. “It’s completely different from what people know as pho, but it’s loved in Hoi An,” says Helen Huyen, a cookbook author from Central Vietnam. “It still has the essence of pho.” 

Phở Phượng, Ho Chi Minh City 

Michelin Guide recommended, Phở Phượng in Saigon’s District 1 boasts a flavorful southern broth accompanied by a basket of herbs for diners to add as desired. They are particularly known for their slow-cooked oxtail (đuôi bò). 

By Ryley Graham – National Geograhic – April 23, 2025