“Hi! This is Cloyd calling from the Village Butcher. Your tendon has arrived.”
My what? Oh, right. I’d been reading about Vietnamese pho recently, and the word tendon had caught my eye — a challenge calling my name. The butcher shop didn’t have any on hand when I’d dropped by to pick up a giant bag of beef bones earlier in the week, and I’m quite sure it wasn’t because the demand far exceeded the supply. So, I’d left my phone number, and they promised they would save those precious animal bits for me next time they were dismantling a cow.
Anyways, as I was lazing away the afternoon at the beach with my Japanese surfer friend, beef tendon was not exactly on my mind, let alone the kind of culinary concoction it could lead to. So, I told the butcher I’d be in to pick it up, hung up, and went back to the Japanese Art of Mattari*, in a mutually-enforced state of utter complacency. Kombucha. Blue skies. Salty air. A warm hoodie that didn’t belong to me.
I didn’t know what to expect when I walked in the next day to pick up my nearly-forgotten order. What did tendon even look like? Would it fit in my bike basket? How much did it cost? An unassuming lunch-sized paper bag was plopped down onto the counter in front of me, and I walked out of the shop a whopping dollar and sixty-nine cents poorer, feeling, in all honesty, a little cheap, if anything.
With that little paper bag sitting in my freezer, my fanciful dreams of a pho dinner party became a plan awaiting execution. I texted some friends, set a date, and then scoured gourmet and ethnic food shops around Victoria looking for black cardamom (another challenge with my name written on it).
Spices for pho. No, that’s not a cockroach nestled in the middle — it’s black cardamom!
On the eve of the dinner party, with my pantry and fridge stocked with all the necessary ingredients (including those strange looking pods of black cardamom), I could have settled for smugness. There was only one problem. I’d never had pho before! I didn’t know what it was supposed to taste or even smell like. Of course, that has never stopped me before, but when having friends over (who are all too familiar with the dish in question), it does chip away at the smugness. Considerably.
Herb Platter for Pho
I am happy to say that the broth was flavourful, the tendon was nice and chewy, the company was lovely and the dinner was a success. More importantly, to any fellow health-enthusiast reading, my leftover broth passed the “morning-after” test, coming out of the fridge perfectly gelled to the bottom of a mason jar.
The “morning-after” test. Mmm, globs of brown jello have never been so appealing.
Now on to the recipe!
Joëlle
Serves 4-6
Rich, flavourful and aromatic, this paleo-approved beef tendon pho is full of fresh greens and nourishing gelatin.
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Ingredients
- 5 lbs. Beef bones
- Beef tendon
- 10 cloves
- 6 star anise
- Two pieces of cinnamon bark
- 1/2 tbsp coriander seeds
- 1/2 tbsp peppercorns
- 4 green cardamom pods
- 1 black cardamom pod
- One head of garlic, cut in half so all the cloves are exposed
- Ginger, 3-inch piece
- One cooking onion, quartered
- 3 tbsp fish sauce
- 1 tbsp blackstrap molasses
- 2 cups mushrooms (I used enoki and fresh shiitake)
- 2 cups greens (I used mizuna)
- 1 sweet onion, thinly sliced
- Cashews, toasted and chopped
- 4 Thai bird's eye chilis, thinly sliced
- 1 bunch Thai basil
- 1 bunch cilantro, chiffonaded
- 1 pack radish sprouts
- 3 scallions, thinly sliced
- 2 limes, quartered
Instructions
- Place your beef bones inside a large pot, fill it with water so that the bones are submerged, and bring to a boil. Let the pot boil for five minutes, removing the scum from the surface with a skimmer or a slotted spoon. Turn off the heat and pour the contents of the pot through a strainer, discarding the liquid.
- Rinse the bones well to remove all impurities, and transfer them to the Instant Pot liner. Cover them with water (making sure to stay under the MAX line). Put the lid in place and make sure the steam valve is in the sealed position. Set the Instant to Pressure Cook on High Pressure for 45 minutes.
- While the Instant Pot is depressurizing, gather your spices and aromatics.
- Heat a skillet over low-medium heat and toast your spices until fragrant. Remove the spices and turn the heat up to medium.
- Add your aromatics and cook them until slightly charred, but not burned, on all sides.
- Once fully depressurized (you can also switch the valve to venting to speed up this process), remove the lid and throw in your tendon, toasted spices and aromatics. Secure the lid back on, and set the Instant Pot to Pressure Cook on High Pressure once again, for 1 hour.
- While the Instant Pot de depressurizing once again, prepare your herb platter and vegetables. Place some onion slices in the bottom of each soup bowl.
- Once the Instant Pot has once again finished depressurizing, remove the lid and strain the broth through a fine mesh sieve lined with cheesecloth. Throw away the solids, saving the pieces of beef tendon. Rinse the liner and pour your beautiful clear broth back into it.
- Place the liner back into the pot, and set to saute mode. Add fish sauce and molasses, adjusting quantities to taste.
- Cut the tendon into thin slices, and divide them among the bowls.
- Cook your mushrooms and greens in the hot broth, making sure to add the items that take the longest to cook first (example: fresh shiitake -- 5 minutes; enoki -- 1 minute; mizuna -- 30 seconds).
- Ladle the broth and vegetables into the bowls over the onion and tendon slices and serve alongside the herb platter.
- Everyone at the table can pick and choose how to garnish their bowl from the selection from the herb platter, and then slurp away!
Calories
Fat
Carbs
Protein
Inspiration and Guidance
Meat Loves Salt — Dad’s Pho Bo (Vietnamese Beef Noodle Soup)
Sift and SImmer — Instant Pot Beef Pho
❤ Thank you Becca and Michelle!
*Some names and identifying details have been changed to protect the privacy of individuals and to tickle the writer’s fancy. Mostly the latter.
**The title of a trendy new book? Actually, mattari just means a laid-back lifestyle, but it could very well be a book, since apparently North-Americans are all frenzied productivity-obsessed workaholics who have forgotten how to enjoy life, and need explicit instructions from abroad on how to walk among trees and drink wine in their pajamas.
