Pho King Sunday

We don't go out to eat much now that Puppy is in our family. We try every now and then, but his age and personality just don't lend themselves to it right now. He plays along for 20-30 minutes before realizing the injustice of having to sit in a chair! With crayons! Eating tasty food! And then his head splits open to release his righteous anger. It's just not enough time to sit and enjoy a meal, so we've given up for now.

But, today! Today my mom offered to watch the Pupster for the afternoon, so we dropped him off at noon and made a beeline for our tiny downtown, thinking of all the little restaurants we've been wanting to try.

We pulled up to the first one, a Thai place. Closed on Sundays.

We walked over to the Indian restaurant. Closed.

Maybe the Mexican place we've been to before? Closed.

Damn Christians and their Sunday sabbath. (I kid! I'm one of you!)

Then I remembered the tiny Vietnamese restaurant that recently opened a few blocks down. They advertise beef noodle soup in their window, pho translated for our suburban town. Pho, glorious pho! I fell in love with pho several years ago while visiting Vietnam, where it is sold just about everywhere. Since then, I've kept my eye out for good sources--usually the more divey and hole in the wall the restaurant, the better the dish. I had an excellent bowl once at a chain called "Pho King." ("Pho" is pronounced something like "fuh")

Bolstered by the prospect of yummy goodness in a bowl, we searched out the tiny storefront. The neon "beef noodle soup" sign glowed in the window, but an ominous piece of paper was taped to the door. "Closed today and tomorrow. Sorry."

We gave up and went home. Boo hoo.

Thus ends my tiny pity party.