The famous celebratory "pho and an agent's contract."
Well it has been nine days - and I don't feel all that different. It happens with everything––at a certain point you reach a state of familiarity, repetition. That new, shiny laptop you bought? As cool as it looks, eventually it is simply a workhorse on which to write shit (and surf the web while avoiding writing shit). That book you spent years writing? At some point it is simply yesterday's news - a piece of painstakingly crafted work that the agent could not sell, given the current publishing environment (not coincidentally, the number of quality, popular authors out there has gone down exponentially). This is true for Soylent as well––it is simply that the taste buds and stomach have a lower tolerance for shiny newness than the mind. They get tired of the same old same old, particularly when that shiny new pouch contains heavily fortified gruel.
That said, I have largely adhered to the spirit of the challenge, with the notable exception of a steaming hot bowl of pho tai bo vien at Pho Kim Long. This is the same treat I allowed myself after signing with my agent and (unlike the Panda Express fiasco) this bowl of pho did not disappoint. How could it? Having lived in Asia for more than a few years, I have a developed a taste for specific foods that give the greatest pleasure - in Japan this would be katsudon, hoi koru, yaki nikku, nikujaga, yakitori, sushi, curry rice, and ramen (at certain small shops). In Thailand I'll put my money on pad thai, pad kra pao gai, masuman curry, and tom ka gai. In the Philippines inasal, lechon, and batchoy (again, highly dependent on the purveyor).
In the United States, the only consistent source of healthy, delicious Asian food I find as I travel is Vietnamese. The quality of Chinese, Thai, Indian, and (usually Korean-owned) Japanese restaurants varies widely. Pho on the other hand is a miracle of thinly sliced beef, amazing stock, and fresh basil, peppers, and beansprouts. Not too mention a drizzle of sriracha and plum sauce, and squeeze of lime. I will put my money on any pho restaurant, any day. Actually, I take that back - the pho at a certain midtown pho place in Reno was sub-par, almost as bad as the Chinese food at the Venetian. And the pho at a couple (Chinese-owned) places in San Francisco Chinatown is not good––that said, there is a hole-in-the-wall place on Broadway that makes one of my favorite bowls for $7 (as opposed to $11 in Vegas). And Reno, to its credit, is home to the famous Pho 777 across from Harrah's.
Okay, I could go on and on with this remembrance of phos past. The basic gist is that, from here on out, Soylent blogs may turn into rampant exercises in food porn, as I run out of interesting things to say about subsisting on healthy gruel. Five more Soylent packages = five more days to go. Let's do this thing and get on with life.
That said, I have largely adhered to the spirit of the challenge, with the notable exception of a steaming hot bowl of pho tai bo vien at Pho Kim Long. This is the same treat I allowed myself after signing with my agent and (unlike the Panda Express fiasco) this bowl of pho did not disappoint. How could it? Having lived in Asia for more than a few years, I have a developed a taste for specific foods that give the greatest pleasure - in Japan this would be katsudon, hoi koru, yaki nikku, nikujaga, yakitori, sushi, curry rice, and ramen (at certain small shops). In Thailand I'll put my money on pad thai, pad kra pao gai, masuman curry, and tom ka gai. In the Philippines inasal, lechon, and batchoy (again, highly dependent on the purveyor).
In the United States, the only consistent source of healthy, delicious Asian food I find as I travel is Vietnamese. The quality of Chinese, Thai, Indian, and (usually Korean-owned) Japanese restaurants varies widely. Pho on the other hand is a miracle of thinly sliced beef, amazing stock, and fresh basil, peppers, and beansprouts. Not too mention a drizzle of sriracha and plum sauce, and squeeze of lime. I will put my money on any pho restaurant, any day. Actually, I take that back - the pho at a certain midtown pho place in Reno was sub-par, almost as bad as the Chinese food at the Venetian. And the pho at a couple (Chinese-owned) places in San Francisco Chinatown is not good––that said, there is a hole-in-the-wall place on Broadway that makes one of my favorite bowls for $7 (as opposed to $11 in Vegas). And Reno, to its credit, is home to the famous Pho 777 across from Harrah's.
Okay, I could go on and on with this remembrance of phos past. The basic gist is that, from here on out, Soylent blogs may turn into rampant exercises in food porn, as I run out of interesting things to say about subsisting on healthy gruel. Five more Soylent packages = five more days to go. Let's do this thing and get on with life.
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