I’m starting a new series on this blog because if there’s one thing I’ve learned from my five billion years of running this blog, it’s that I REALLY like starting new blog series. Continuing those blog series is a completely different matter. But starting a new series is AWESOME. Anyway, this new series is called “Why I Can’t Fit in My Pants Wednesday,” which means every Wednesday (or so) I’ll be talking about different food or drinks I’ve been enjoying.
I don’t know, you guys, this series might actually have a chance at survival. I mean, instead of it requiring I do something tricky like offer advice or face my fears, it just requires my eating stuff and talking about it. And I’m SO GOOD at eating stuff and talking about it.
Do you have a comfort food that you’re like, “What? Huh? How is that comforting to me? I never even eat it?”
Pho is that food for me.
Pronounced “fuhh.” Or “foeh.” Or “ffff…err, bring me this one, please?” (Pointing at number on menu.), pho is Vietnamese soup, consisting of broth, rice noodles, and a whole bunch of meaty bits (or non-meaty bits if that’s the way you roll). Served with a pile of herbs, leaves, sprouts, lime slices, peppers, twigs and other assorted nature on the side.
I find myself craving the stuff, CRAVING IT, every single time it’s rainy and blustery out.
I don’t know why, maybe it just reminds me of those rainy blustery days I spent in Hanoi.
Oh wait, that wasn’t me.
To be honest, I don’t think I even went to my first Vietnamese restaurant until I was 30. In fact, I’ve lived most of my life in places where Vietnamese restaurants were not really a thing. The town where I currently live has more Chinese buffets than you can shake a chopstick at, a handful of Thai restaurants, a Malaysian restaurant, a couple of those Japanese places where the chefs do the funny stuff with their knives and spatulas that they never really did in Japan. But not a single Vietnamese place. So every time it’s rainy and blustery out, I’m left feeling yearny and soup-sick for a soup I barely know.
When I saw Pho Lucky on my drive to the Detroit Institute of Arts during my recent trip to Detroit, I was like, “WE ARE EATING THERE FOR LUNCH. DON’T EVEN TRY TO ARGUE OTHERWISE.” (By the way, I was traveling alone. This is just how I talk to myself.)
It helped that it was rainy and blustery and one of those days that just screamed for a big huge bowl of broth and noodles and meaty bits.
Oh, and also leaves and twigs. Lots of leaves and twigs.
The next thing I knew it was just me and a big bowl of empty broth.
As empty as my soul on the rainy, blustery days when I can’t get any pho.
Or “Please, more of this please.”
What food makes you feel homesick for a home you never knew? (I know. That line was super cheesy, but just give it to me, okay?)