I have eaten pho (pronounced “fuh”) twice in my life, which also happened to be in the same week—evidence of the quality food at Pho Real Kitchen and Bar.

Upon taking my first steps into the world of pho, those friends who were already familiar (my pho-miliar friends), unanimously directed me toward this restaurant at the corner of Court Avenue and 4th Street.

For those unphofamiliar, pho is a Vietnamese noodle soup, with a claim to fame as the national dish of Vietnam. That said, LovingPho.com, a pho forum (think Reddit that only discusses pho), points out that calling pho a soup can be a misnomer as it oversimplifies the dish and diminishes its role as a main course.

Instead, pho should be considered a noodle dish, where rice noodles, meats, and garnishes take center stage, supported by a flavorful broth. 

The term pho likely derives from the French word feu (“fire”), reflecting a connection to the French dish pot au feu (beef stew), introduced during France’s colonial rule in Vietnam. Like pot au feu, Vietnamese pho involves slow-simmering marrow-rich beef bones to create a broth in a process that takes hours. 

The history of pho is no one-bowl-fits-all story. Two main styles have emerged: pho bac of north Vietnam and pho nam of south Vietnam. 

Pho bac, sometimes referred to as the “true pho,” is considered the birthplace of pho and reflects the northern region’s resourceful use of leftover beef parts introduced by the French. Its clear, simple broth highlights delicate flavors, avoiding elaborate garnishes or non-beef proteins. 

Pho nam, on the other hand, was brought to south Vietnam by northern refugees after Vietnam’s partition in 1954, evolving with the abundance and culinary creativity of the southern region. With the addition of complex spices, proteins, and garnishes, such as bean sprouts, herbs, fish sauce, and hoisin sauce, southern pho became a versatile and popular dish, accessible from street vendors to fine dining. 

After the Vietnam War, when the country reunified, southern-style pho dominated the global spread of the dish and is the style I tried right here in Des Moines, Iowa.  

I ordered Pho Real’s vegan pho, which came chock full (chock pho-ll) of tofu, carrots, cabbage, and mushrooms in broth. All of Pho Real’s pho dishes come with a side of vegetable garnishes that include bean sprouts, basil, cilantro, jalapenos, and lime. 

During both of my dine-in experiences, once during lunch and once during dinner, I was impressed by the little time in between ordering and receiving my dish. My pho came out steaming hot with a rich, savory smell.

Guided by my dinner date, Dowling Catholic’s one and only Katie Strawn, I topped that first bowl of pho with bean sprouts, cilantro, lime, and, read closely here, the two most important features of pho: hoisin sauce and chili sauce. The hoisin will be set on the table, but diners will need to request the chili sauce.

Admittedly, come my second bowl of pho just a couple days later, this time as the experienced pho diner who was now guiding my own pho novice lunch date, I fumbled (pho-mbled) and oversold the chili sauce to the extent that the spice corrupted my dear friend’s first pho. 

Point being, while I do think the hoisin and chili sauce are essential, I would also stress that these toppings should be tailored to the taste of each diner; therefore, I recommend starting with one squirt of hoisin and one teaspoon of chili sauce, knowing one can always add more.

On the topic of flavors (pho-lavors…this is only fun if you make it), the broth does indeed deserve a moment of its own. The heat from fresh ginger and onion is brightened by lime juice while the light yet satisfying saltiness lingers in the background. I was in the midst of a cold during my visits to Pho Real, and I can assure you that I walked out with a cleared sinus on both occasions, with all props going to their broth.

Deviating from the traditional pho protein, beef, I found the tofu to be perfectly porous, soaking in the savory broth. Along with the bed of noodles that sunk to the bottom of the bowl and the garnishes floating on top, the interplay of textures between the spongy tofu, silky noodles, and crunchy bean sprouts brought balance to every bite. 

All this to say, pho is a sensory experience, each ingredient playing a critical role in creating something greater than the sum of its parts. Pho Real celebrates Vietnamese culture through each steaming bowl of pho, the kind of comfort food one craves whenever looking for warmth, flavor, and a taste of tradition.