Once because he thought my school called the house to say I was sick. (I'm 24 and later we found out that some one elses little girl wasn't feeling well)
And again to remind me not to buy anything to eat because he was making his noodle rice soup.
Some of you may refer to this as pho (pronounced fuh). The Vietnamese noodle sensation sweeping across the land.
Being of Cambodian descent however, I try my hardest not to refer to it as pho and instead just call it "rice noodle soup". Or in Khmer, we call it gatheal (try it with me, gah-theeo), what I grew up know it as.
We'd go out as a family on weekends to different gatheal joints mostly in Long Beach and sometimes Garden Grove.
Lately I've been to some pho spots with my sister and friends who are down to slurp up rice noodles in broth with floating pieces of steak, tripe, tendon, and other weird shit in animals that you wouldn't normally eat.
No matter what though, my pops makes it the best.
He has it down, from the consistency of the broth, to the proportion of steak and noodle, and I'm never left feeling unsatisfied after I eat his gatheal. It also lasts for atleast a day and half so I have no problem replacing all my meals with it.
This is one of those things I'll miss when hes gone.
I don't think anyone else can ever get this right.
Sometimes in your life, theres only one person who can do that thing you love the right way.
No matter how reckless he can be sometimes, hes never changed since I was a little kid. Whether I was 7 years old or 24 today, he still makes sure that his boy eats as much gatheal as he wants.
I went to an asian supermarket with him recently. He bought the store.
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