I’ve been eating Vietnamese rice-noodle soup (Phở) once a week for over seven years now, and at first, I was convinced there was opium in it. What else could explain this addiction?

The recipe is an ancient Vietnamese secret, passed down (and sometimes sold) from family to family for thousands of years. Each family’s recipe is unique, closely guarded, and filled with mystical curative (and delicious) ingredients.

At Phở 79 (with locations in Virginia Beach, Chesapeake and Hampton), even the cooks don’t hold the secret. The grandparents come in once a week and create the arcane mix of herbs and spices that go into every giant pot, then presumably disappear into an ethereal mist before they return to work their magic again.

Phở (pronounced “Fuh“) is prepared one day in advance, so you’re always eating from the pot that was set simmering 24 hours before, giving the sachet (or “bouquet garni”) of herbs and spices time to release and combine their flavors.

Seasonings likely include anise, cinnamon, cloves, ginger, chervil, tarragon, rosemary and cardamon, but what else, and in what combinations and quantities, are known only to the tight-lipped grandparents.

Depending on which Phở is chosen, your soup may include round steak, flank or brisket, meatball, chicken, seafood, or (for the hearty) a few varieties of tendon and tripe.

Most bowls come already topped with cilantro and chopped green and/or white onion. Fresh basil leaves, lime, bean sprouts and sliced hot peppers are served on the side, as is sweet hoisin sauce and blazing (Sriracha) hot sauce.

Vegans and strict vegetarians need not apply because (even in the veggie Phở ), the broth itself is beef, pork or seafood based. Fat is kept to a minimum, but the sodium content is high.

The age-old ritual of Phở preparation leads to the delectable ritual of Phở eating, and my ritual proceeds as follows:

First, the iced coffee (likely the most reasonably priced iced coffee in town, by the way). It’s served in a porcelain demitasse cup, the Vietnamese grounds and hot water suspended over sweetened condensed milk. So as soon as it finishes dripping, you can stir it up and pour it into the provided glass of ice.

Fresh and cool Vietnamese spring rolls are next. Consisting mainly of fine rice noodles, halved shrimp can be seen beneath the translucent rice wrapper, and a bite of these tender rolls reveals the hidden layer of thin-sliced pork and basil leaf. Dipped into a ground nut-topped bowl of hoisin sauce, the fresh-yet-earthy taste is outstanding, and I’ve seen folks make a meal of these rolls alone.

The Phở noodle soup is next, and I usually go for the steak-topped option (Phở #1), since it’s a little less fatty than the brisket and not as mysterious as meatballs. I squeeze in the lime and mix in the basil leaves and bean sprouts right away, mix all together with chopsticks, and give the flavors time to release and combine while I work on the spring rolls and coffee.

To further season your bowl, extra hoison (sweet sauce) is provided, and the Sriracha should be used with care. For me, a nickel-sized drop of the red sauce brings just the right amount of heat, but a quarter-sized drop nearly ruins the bowl. That’s all a matter of taste of course, and I’ve been told that some customers put in so much Sriracha that it stains the bowl red.

So with the tableside ritual of Phở complete, take chopsticks in one hand, soup spoon in the other, and let the pleasure begin.

Beside soup, Phở 79 has many other menu options, and I can attest to the grilled skewered chicken, served over rice with mouth-watering fish sauce on the side. I’ve also enjoyed their unique baked sandwiches, which are light on meat and heavy on herbal flavor. But it’s the Phở that always calls me back.

The Phở 79 near Town Center in Virginia Beach has fed my addiction since 2001, but the new Phở 79 on Sam’s Drive in Chesapeake is now competing for my attention.

Phở can be eaten for breakfast, lunch or dinner, so most Phở restaurants are open by 10 am. I can vouch for Phở as both a hearty meal, excellent hangover cure, and way to beat the common cold.

The quite-reasonable bill is not delivered to your table, as Vietnamese custom considers this rude. Ranking virtue over appearances and customer service over all, they have no desire to rush you out the door. So you pay at the register as you go.

Most folks still pronounce it “Foh“, rather than “Fuh“. But no matter how you say it, or how you feel about Pan-Asian cuisine in general, this is a unique treat.

It turns out there’s no addictive compounds in the soup. There’s just habit-forming deliciousness, partly from its ancient standards of preparation, and partly from the simple fact that, as their t-shirts proclaim, “It’s Phở-king good.”