i'm sitting here watching Anthony Bourdain in Vietnam eating pho/busting a nut. i wish i could eat a huge bowl of that pho. it looks so unearthly w/ everything-in-the-kitchen-sink and all these beautiful vegetables and cow parts. and that broth. savory, sweet, sour, soosoogood i die. i want to taste that rrreeal vietnam pho that a fat ugly lady w/ no teef cooked for 6 hours. being in Perimeter, i go to dai loi. it's vair vair delish. i once went there by myself. *PROUD OF MYSELF!* anyways, so dai loi is supposedly sooperauthentic vietnamese pho (although i'm inclined to think that pretty much all pho places are run by folks who left the motherland w/ their recipes and special ingredients in tow, so it's all authentic). however, once at dai loi, i could have sworn i saw a hispanic cook. latino cooks ~ dood. come on. they are the universal cooks of the world. at every Cheesecake Factory, brazillian churrascaria, sushi restaurant, hibachi joint, ITALIAN joint, it's a hispanic cook. or the majority of cooks are hispanic. i bet if you went to France and sat down at a posh lil brasserie, you could push the door back and enter the kitchen and all the cooks would be Mexican. kinda like in Ratatouille when u enter the hustling, chaotic kitchen, it's all rats workin the line--churning out the sauces, the meats, the starches, the glorious gourmet. so. i hate cilantro in my pho, btw. it overpowers everything. i also feel sorry for bourdain at times, because i can see the childhood dorkiness and awkwardness that manifests itself on-screen in his over-culturedness/terrible dancing ability/crooked grin. and i want to someday visit Vietnam. it's drop-dead gorgeous and green, like a stalk of culantro. or whatever that stinky leaf is that they bring out on top of your mung been sprouts.
hugs, liz
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