pho

My First Pho

Leah, who designed my website, couldn’t believe it when I told her, back when I met her, that I’d never had pho (pronounced: F-uh). “Oh my God,” she said. “When it’s cold, I totally have to take you out for pho.”

News flash: it’s cold. And Leah, ever the persistent pho-pusher, reminded me over e-mail not long ago about my pho promise. “The time has come for pho,” she wrote (or didn’t really write, but I like the way it sounds) and the pho gods smiled upon me as I wrote her back: “Yes. Yes it is.”

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Feeling Grand on Grand Street at Pho Grand

I finally did it.

I’ve lived in Park Slope for 10 months now and every time I take the D train into the city I promise myself that one day, when it stops on Grand Street, I will get out and eat lunch. You’d thing that a food obsessed person like me would’ve done that all the time: Grand Street runs right through Chinatown and most of my favorite food personages–especially Calvin Trillin–feel about Chinatown the way that Joan Rivers feels about plastic surgery. It’s what makes life livable.

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