If ever I say, "Where would you like to go for dinner?" Izzy almost aways answers, "Vietnamese." If we want to go somewhere else, he will continue to ask for Vietnamese. I would say we go out for Vietnamese food more frequently than any other type. Maybe this is because we have two decent Vietnamese restaurants within walking distance of our house and also because we all like it. One of the places is cozier and we are regulars there (Saigon Cafe), the other is brighter, more cacaphonous and cheaper (Nha Trang Place).
Tonight we went to the latter. Their specialty is Pho, a giant bowl of beef soup with rice noodles, bean sprouts, and thai basil. The meat in the soup is somewhat of a mystery to me. The menu says it contains "6 types beef brisket: navel, frank, omosa, tendon, and eye of round". I have eaten it many times before and I know it is good but I am somehow compelled to read that anatomical description each and every time. Which always gives me pause and then I inevitably order it anyway.
The soup is served in a giant white bowl, large enough to share. It was a somewhat messy endeavor for him as he happily slurped up the rice noodles and broth, along with a few of the meaty bits. I admit I don't add them all to his bowl. Not because I don't think he will eat them but more out of fear of mad cow. I do worry that it is somehow lurking in the omosa, whatever that is. Thankfully, Izzy is blissfully unaware of the worries that plague me and is free to enjoy his soup. If only I were so fortunate.
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