Bún Bò Huê (Vietnamese Spicy Beef Noodle Soup)

Bun bo hue is a spicy, flavorful noodle soup from Hue, a city in the central region of Vietnam. Hue is the former capital of Vietnam, and was the home for all of the rulers, emperors, and dynasties. That is why this regional cuisine tends to have more variety, as well as dishes that are more labor-intensive, like bun bo hue. Personally, this is my favorite city to eat in when visiting my motherland, as the food leans a little more vibrant and spicy.

Pho is the golden child of noodle soups in Vietnam. Everyone knows it and loves it―it is usually the gateway dish for foreigners to Vietnamese food. Bun bo hue, on the other hand, is that cool, dark, and mysterious cousin that everyone would actually rather hang with. Spicy, funky, and super flavorful, this beef noodle soup requires a few steps and different types of proteins, but the depth and flavor will have you overlooking pho every time you see this dish on a menu.

In my family, both of my parents cooked, but each of them had dishes that they excelled in. My dad really mastered making bun bo hue and he geeks out on all the steps that are required. This recipe is inspired by my dad’s version, but it has a few shortcuts to save time and a couple extra ingredients to make the flavor pop. 

The Keys to Great Bun Bo Hue Broth

Bun bo hue means “beef noodle soup from Hue,” but it isn’t only made with beef; it also contains a fair amount of pork. The bowl is usually garnished with fresh ham hocks, steamed pork sausage, and coagulated pork blood cake, alongside soft, succulent beef shanks. The broth is a mixture of beef, pork, and shrimp paste, which may sound like a bit much, but each protein complements the others. Beef is very savory, pork adds some sweetness, and the shrimp paste lends a subtle salty, funky note that brings it together. 

Broth-making in Vietnam requires that the bones get some special treatment. Ideally, a broth for any Vietnamese noodle soup should be clear, delicate, and flavorful. I normally soak beef and pork bones in cold water for 30 minutes before cooking to allow any blood in them to seep out, so that it doesn’t cloud the broth later while simmering. After soaking, I blanch them in boiling salted water for about 10 minutes, or until foam floats to the surface of the water, skimming off any impurities. Lastly, I rinse the bones thoroughly, rubbing off anything still clinging to them. Only then are the bones are ready to make the broth.

The broth itself starts with infusing oil with annatto seeds. This step creates a red oil that floats to the top of the soup and enhances the flavors of the broth. Although it isn’t traditional, I like to bloom the aromatics by cooking the onion, chile flakes, and lemongrass in the annatto oil until fragrant, then I add all of the remaining broth ingredients except the shrimp-paste broth (which I prepare while the main broth is simmering).

I also add makrut lime leaves, which enhances the citrus-like flavor of the lemongrass. It is crucial to season the broth at the beginning. Since we are simmering the meats in the broth that will later garnish the final soup for serving, we want that meat to be well seasoned. A long simmer develops flavor and ensures the beef shank’s connective tissues break down throughly, for the juiciest, most succulent beef. The ham hocks in the recipe do not require a long cooking time, so be sure to pull those out once fork-tender, but not yet falling off the bone. 

Once the meat and broth is simmering away in the pot, it’s time to make the clarified shrimp-paste broth. Since a transparent broth is desirable, it is important to bring the shrimp paste and water to a boil, then let it sit on the stove off of the heat so that the sediment settles to the bottom of the pot. This usually takes 20 to 30 minutes. After it settles, scoop the clear liquid from the top and add it to the main pot. Taste the broth before adding it, then taste it afterwards to make sure you can appreciate the difference.

Now, not all shrimp pastes are the same. If you can find one that says “mam ruoc hue’’ opt for that one, as it is specifically from that region and is closest to the original. Otherwise, “mam tom” from the Lee Kum Kee brand is one I like to use.

To Pineapple or Not to Pineapple

A lot of bloggers making bun bo hue will say that their secret ingredient is pineapple. I can verify that in Hue, I did see some stands including this fruit in their broths. My family did not add pineapple to the broth when I was growing up. So when my dad heard that my recipe called for pineapple, the traditionalist in him was not too happy about it. But then my father’s wife made it once with pineapple, and I think he is now converted. Not only does the pineapple brighten the broth with acidity and subtle sweetness, but it also contains enzymes that help tenderize the meat (which is why in general you don't want to marinate meats for too long with pineapple juice, lest they become mushy).

Assembling a Bowl

Unlike most bun dishes in Vietnam, bun bo hue calls for a thicker rice noodle, about the size of spaghetti, which is necessary for this dish to stand up to the more assertive broth. Rice noodles soak up flavor, and the thicker they are, they more they can soak up! This particular noodle is not very popular in Vietnam and is only used for this dish, though I have seen that it is a very popular noodle in the Yunnan region of China. 

The garnishes or veggies that accompany bun bo hue vary from place to place, but you’ll usually see mint, cilantro, bean sprouts, chile, lime, and shredded fresh banana blossoms. Personally, I like it with shredded cabbage instead of the banana blossoms, as it’s crunchier and sweet, and also a lot easier to find.  

Besides the beef shank and ham hocks, the other meats that are usually in this bowl are coagulated pork blood cake and cha hue (a steamed sausage in the Hue style, made with peppercorns). I can usually find these two ingredients at my local Asian grocery store. I think that the cha hue is a must-have, and the pork blood cake is best store-bought. (I’ve tried to make it a few times and it never turns out as silky as store-bought). 

This dish is a labor of love fit for a king, but I'm confident that if you make it, you'll see it's also fit to challenge pho for the throne as the greatest of all Vietnamese noodle soups.