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Wednesday, February 3, 2010

you say oyster, I say urstah

Continuing last night's topic--if a grown woman of sound mind can be enticed to dress unflatteringly, and pay for the opportunity to do so, then I certainly don't think we can expect the Terminators to spare us.

We've been trying to chip away at the broth I made for the pho on Monday night. I threw some more spices in it and made a beef noodle soup, and it turns out that Superman is ever so much not fond of fennel seeds, everybody else feels about the same. Crazy, I know! That's one of my favorite parts about paying the tab at the Tandoori Oven and the Indian oven and the Bombay Grill and the Bombay House (Provo, NOT Salt Lake, with its tweakings and reworkings of good recipes to make them taste like Ragu soda pop die die die), is the licoricey finish that doesn't quite obscure the paint-melting breath. So the soup went over like brains on toast and was not a success. But the pho absolutely was.

My family, grateful that they could finally eat something everyone liked.

I was so surprised you could have skinned me alive and called me luggage. The Hulk waxed laudatory and appreciative about how much he loved the meal. Try it with your picky eaters--the nice thing is everybody starts out with a plain bowl of broth, so they can make it as familiar or spooky as they want. I used the Steamy Kitchen recipe, and you're going to want to use every minute of the three hours, or it will be too bland. Included in the recipe is a delicious pun on the homophonic nature of the "pho" and "fuh" sounds.

We also had bubble tea, except we only have herbal tea in our observant Mormon household, so really it was just a peach and coconut smoothie with tapioca pearls at the bottom. It's a lot like finding an unflavored gummy bear in your drink and is utterly charming. I want to drink it for the rest of my life.
Not frog eggs.

I let Superman pick out a treat from the Asian Market for our dessert, and he stayed pretty pedestrian. No umeboshi or rambutan for him!
Here is John holding what only looks like a supersoaker tampon, but is in fact a crispy, creamy, neural synapse-prohibiting taste treat delight!

They were sort of like piroulines, but with crazy stick writing on the package.

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