A Bowl So Big I Get Lost In It
I love going to pho restaurants and getting a jumbo bowl of pho tai, just the old standard with the sliced beef on top. My dad taught me to put some plum sauce and sriracha in the spoon, and mix it together with my chopsticks while moving the spoon through the soup, leaving a red and brown trail of delicious. Then I go nuts with the fish sauce, shaking the bottle for a long time until I can smell the funk. After that, the bean sprouts, coriander and lime. I usually keep the basil on the side so I can bite a leaf off when I can't take the heat anymore and I've already emptied my glass of water for the eighth time. I slurp and slap and smear and make a great big mess because once I get started on the pho, there is no stopping. I go into a sort of trance while pouring soup into my distended maw, eyes rolled back shark-style, I can't describe it except maybe like putting your nose on your sweetie's neck and taking a long breath. Same magical reassuring calming feeling. I love it.