Then, my hard drive crashed. What happened next is also unfit for description. Somethings are just too horrifying to discuss (We’re talking over 90,000 files of hard drive horror.). Be careful where you click, my friends. Be careful where you click.
I had planned to tell you, dear nieces and nephews, about a recently discovered Vietnamese restaurant. The memory of it’s homey comfort food haunted me. I was in dire need of comfort, after all.
An inner urban neighborhood in East Dallas. Old, charming buildings are being renovated. Some have fallen to disrepair. The occasional new condo complex stands.
On the corner of Bryan at Peak, a passenger gets on the 409 bus. It leaves and is followed by the 502. In front of Vietnam Restaurant, a man washes his car.
|Karaoke night, anyone?|
She brings the menu. There are over 140 options with variations: crepes, egg rolls, soups, salad, stir fry, bubble tea. I chose Number 80, small; pho with “thin eyeround beef, meatball.” When it arrives, it is dropped, unceremoniously, on the table. A plate of garnishes accompanies: cilantro, basil, bean sprouts, lime, fresh jalapeno.
|Pho. Wonderful, magical pho.|
Then, transfiguration. The hole in the wall trappings have disappeared. I am now surrounded by mystery.
The scent of pho swirls around me like an aromatic, sweet perfume. What are those scents? Those flavors? Meaty. Savory. Floral. Spicy. Is that cinnamon? A faint hint of sweetness? The complexity makes the individual flavors almost indistinguishable. The broth is wonderfully light but rich. Noodles pick up the flavor of the broth. The meatballs are chewy and toothsome; almost an al dente texture. The beef slices are thin, cooked by the steaming broth. Red onion, green onion are sliced on top. As I sip, slurp and chew, I add one garnish after another, each changing the dish. A snippet of fresh basil, a torn cilantro leaf, a squeeze of lime. Each contributes and mutates the perfume. A slice of jalapeno steeps, making the dish spicier in each taste.
|A waiter dashes behind the counter. |
Lucky frog, lilies and sport trophy.
Driving home, a wave of scent and flavor wafts through my mouth and nose. Its lingering complexity surprises me, delights me. The memory of this pho haunts me in moments when comfort is needed. This is its healing secret.