Comfort Food

Pho, chicken noodle, lemony menudo, spicy tofu. Why do comfort foods often veer toward the brothy realm? It is a question Spinoza or Aristotle might have tackled had they not been tied up by such trivial matters as the nature of evil and why the universe exists. I had an exceptionally bad migraine this week so there is just no substitute to chicken noodle. It is a food that doesn’t make you think. When I have a migraine I don’t want the unwashed masses to touch me, I don’t want to talk, and I certainly don’t want to think. Chicken noodle requires the least thought, the least maintenance, what you see is what you get. When a cold arises, menudo is a very good idea. Its fire melts away the evil nasties and its carne holds you up when all you want to do is fall to the ground. Super Burrito in Whittier has, according to their sign, “the best menudo in the world.” Or something like that. But you know what, I think they are right. Well, at least it’s pretty dang good. If you have really good pho, that would also do the trick for the sniffles. In fact, pho would be better because there are more vegetables in a bowl of pho than in the White House garden. If you want really good pho, I suggest Golden Deli, or Vietnam House. But there is something remarkable about the number 1 at Pho Minh. It is that rare dish that tastes like it could come from some old Veitnamese grandmother’s home, and yet, fits right in at a restaurant. Either the pho itself will cure you or the very nature of eating it will, that is, the act of eating something that tastes so homey. The mechanics and hung-over couples that walk in and order it seem to think they have discovered this tiny nook in El Monte themselves. Silly rabbits, everyone knows by now that the king of pho serves here. If you want a hearty broth you could hardly do better than Daikokuku in Little Tokyo. It is big, eggy, meaty, vegetabley broth, and when you have finished it you may be healed of that which ails you. But you know, talk to some people, and broth is not comforting at all. I know someone who considers comfort food juicy cheeseburgers and chocolate doughnuts. Still others turn to thin-crust pizza when sick. To these philistines I would only say, eat, drink, be cured of your ailment! But don’t come crying to me when, after developing gas, your stomach requires a softer antidote. You won’t get any comfort from me.