A bowl of phở is finished by the customer, not by the cook. That surprises people, and it is the most useful thing to know before the bowl arrives.

The work that happens before it is less democratic. Everything rests on the broth, and the broth is mostly a question of time. Ours starts in the morning, hours before the door opens. Bones go in with ginger and onion charred first over a flame, then star anise and cinnamon, and then the heat comes down until the surface barely moves. A broth boiled hard turns cloudy and loses its edge, so ours is held at that low simmer for twelve hours, skimmed and tasted through the day. It is not allowed near a bowl until it runs clear and you can smell the spice from the other side of the room.

After that, assembly is quick and slightly theatrical. Rice noodles go in first. Welsh sirloin, sliced thin and laid on raw, cooks in the seconds it takes to pour the broth over it. Beef balls and brisket go alongside, spring onion on top, and the bowl comes to you at a temperature that means business.

The herbs, the lime and the chilli arrive on a separate plate, and this is the part where the bowl becomes yours. Tear the herbs rather than dropping them in whole. Push them under and give them half a minute. Add the lime in stages and taste between them, because it is easy to go too far and impossible to come back. A bowl you have adjusted yourself tastes better than one handed over finished, which is precisely how it is eaten at home.

We get told, fairly regularly, that the beef is the part people remember. One family came in on a hot afternoon after the beach, ordered the beef phở, and reported back that the meat was extremely tender. The children at that table gave it a thumbs up, which is a harder review to earn than most. Another guest had lived in Vietnam for years before he ever walked through our door, and he left five stars anyway. That is the review we were most nervous about and the one we are quietly proudest of.

There is a bowl for everyone at the table. Chicken and seafood sit alongside the beef, and the vegan phở is built on its own vegetable broth rather than borrowing anything from the beef pot, which is the only honest way to do it.

Twelve hours of simmering for twenty minutes at a table. It has always been a fair trade.