February Stories: A Bowl of Pho

Samantha discovers more than just new foods

The gray days of midwinter are upon us. Last year I brightened up my corner by writing about my family’s favorite board games. This year, at Abby’s suggestion, I thought I’d post some of the very-short-stories from my 2022 book A Bowl of Pho. I’m starting with the titular story itself. Enjoy! (Which is possible because I took all the cilantro out.)

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A Bowl of Pho Sara Roberts Jones

Samantha grew up in a rural town in the 1990s, where the older generations considered good food to be hearty, not adventurous. When she turned twenty, she launched a new life by moving to the frenetic sprawl of a suburban city. There, as a clerk in an upscale grocery store, she encountered exotic foods like hummus and jicamas. Her co-workers, who had apparently been raised on pureed bok choy and kochumba, got no end of amusement out of her ignorance.

One Friday, the assistant manager, Justin, offered to take her to his favorite Vietnamese restaurant. Samantha’s impression of Asian food was that it involved alarming and possibly immoral ingredients. But she liked Justin, who never laughed at her, so she accepted. She didn’t consider it a date, however. He wasn’t very handsome.

At the restaurant, Justin ordered pho. The soup consisted of long strips of meat and fresh herbs floated in a thin broth; it looked odd but not threatening. Samantha sipped her first spoonful—and it was a terrible moment.

Pho tasted like someone had marinated caterpillars in soap. She hadn’t come so close to spitting out a mouthful since Great-Aunt Ern’s soggy fried okra. She swallowed with difficulty, wondering how she was going to choke down the rest of the soup. When Justin suggested ordering something called bubble tea, Samantha eagerly agreed. But instead of a light and fizzy palate cleanser, bubble tea turned out to be a thick concoction with little gelatin balls floating in it. It was almost as bad as the pho.

Close to country-bumpkin tears, Samantha admitted that she didn’t like the food. “I’m just not used to this kind of thing.” She cringed, waiting for Jason’s derisive amusement.

He merely shrugged. “That’s fine. Next week we can try Thai. Maybe you’ll like that better.”

Samantha sighed, figuring that full disclosure was the best policy. “Look, my grandmother still cooks Spam. That’s what you’re dealing with here.”

“Really? Spam?”

Samantha smiled wanly. “She calls it Christmas Ham. She gets this big hunk of Spam and puts cloves in it, and bakes it till it’s dry. It’s fancy. She even puts the cloves in a diamond pattern because presentation matters.”

Justin laughed. “Well, my grandma would serve anything she could encase in jello. So not as bad, but I know where you’re coming from.”

Samantha giggled and tried another sip of the bubble tea. This time it wasn’t so bad. She also noticed that Justin’s smile made his blue eyes and golden goatee kind of attractive.

Later, she found out that the pho was flavored heavily with cilantro. She also found out that some people are genetically predisposed to hate cilantro. Despite the unpleasant moment of self-discovery, Samantha let Justin introduce her to whatever array of cuisine they could find.

Three years later, on a Friday evening, she and Justin sat down and toasted one another with bubble tea. Then they tucked into the Thai curry sans cilantro that they’d cooked together on their first night in their new apartment.