Los Angeles

Despite the fact I have parents who eat ice cream almost every day (if they could have it at every meal, they would), until recently I thought I could live happily without ever lifting a dessert spoon again.

I know what you’re thinking. Quelle horreur! C’est impossible! I tell you it’s true. When I gave up my 2-liter a day Coca-Cola habit  in college in an effort to regain a good night's sleep (caffeine is not my friend), I found, after a few months, I no longer craved sugar. As my tastes matured, I discovered the savory complexity of wine and eating dessert no longer interested me. Since ice cream was never one of my favorites, I didn’t miss it.

I love food. And I love going out to eat and trying new places. And I love talking about food. In fact, I love food so much that whenever I'm eating I actually try not to get too full so that I'll be able to eat again in another two hours—which is something I think I inherited from my mother. When I was a kid, I thought it took five hours to get to Santa Barbara from LA because she would take the Pacific Coast Highway and stop to eat three times. (If you are not familiar with the geography of Southern California, it shouldn’t take more than an hour and a half to get to Santa Barbara).

But despite that fact that I grew up in a household where it was the norm to discuss what we were going to eat for lunch during breakfast (even if breakfast was at 12pm), I am not a foodie. I hate restaurants that pile food into thimble sized pyramids in the middle of oversized square plates. And when things like soup are served in shot glasses (unless you're Hatfield's and then you can do whatever you want). But the other night when my lovely boyfriend realized that not only did he not owe extra taxes, but he was getting a hefty refund, I wanted him to take me somewhere nice to make up for all those nights of sopitos at Poquito Mas while he anticipated paying what he thought was going to be a huge bill from the government. It turns out my step-dad is not the only man in my life who can’t do his own accounting. No offense, Alan.

My idea of a good time is dragging my sorry ass up the stairs after a long day, plopping down on the bed, snuggling with my husband and watching re-runs of Law and Order or, if God REALLY loves me, a NEW episode of Real Time With Bill Maher. This 4 star vacation is earned after a day of schlepping kids, policing homework and of course the dance of death known as feeding everyone.

I’ve lost the will to live at that point, so preparing food for myself is out of the question.  I hastily eat something over the sink or bring things up to the bed that can be dipped or combined such as pesto with bread and diet coke, or Cheezits and Cranberry Juice. Oy.

Certain foods cause people to become rhapsodic. Proust had his madeleines. I have pho ga. At Pho Vinh Ky, the large bowl of chicken soup and rice noodles arrives with a plate of fresh herbs and vegetables and a small bowl of dipping sauce.

Traditionally, the herbs and vegetables are added to the broth. Rau ram, ngo gai, bean sprouts, mint, Thai basil, purple perilla, a lime wedge and thick slices of serrano peppers add brightness to the flavors. I love the dipping sauce, nuoc cham gung, a mix of lime juice, dried pepper flakes, finely chopped fresh ginger and fish sauce. Everyone has their own way to eat pho. Mine is to eat the noodles first. Each spoonful flavored by the pungent, hot, salty dipping sauce.

If you haven't eaten Vietnamese food, you have missed out on one of the great Asian cuisines. Known primarily for their noodle soups, plates of barbecued meats piled high on mounds of broken rice or served in a bowl with vermicelli noodles and stir fries spiced with lemon grass, Vietnamese food has spread into the wider culinary community because of the popularity of pho (hot beef and chicken soups with noodles) and banh mi (crusty baguettes with spicy meats and pickled vegetables). With several large Vietnamese communities around the country, we are lucky to live close to Little Saigon in Orange County.