The Memphis Pho Story

derspatchel says he's never had a bad bowl of pho, only bowls of soup that varied in degrees of union with their pho nature. Which puts me in the mind of finding the soup that would be the yin to pho's yang. Gazpacho? Potato? Beer Cheese? Soo--oop of the e--e--evening?

Not what I had for lunch today, which was, in fact, a delicious example of pho. It would have been perfect if it hadn't taken thirty pho king minutes to get to the table after being ordered leaving me ten minutes to eat a bowl of piping-hot soup with a pair of chopsticks and a large white spoon.

I'd say it's because I have a Marine-esque hair cut, but it looked like it took a half hour for everyone to get their food today, from the trailer ladies with their mumus, cigarettes and crossword puzzles, to the assorted business lunchers, with the exception of the Japanese guys on their lunch break from Sharp.

Curse you all for making me desire pho when it's so difficult to come by in east Memphis. Stop it, or I'm gonna start writing about barbecue.