The Art of Good Soup: Pho on the flo’

Graphic art for "The Art of Good Soup" column is pictured. Graphic courtesy Camilla Samuel

This week, we gorgeous, gorgeous girls had a dilemma. We had a lot of balls to juggle: a midterm, two meetings, three bottles of liquid, shackles, a formal to attend and some soup to slurp. We were overwhelmed. We spend a lot of our time overwhelmed.

What was our solution? Have someone else get the soup for us, obvi. Now, you may be wondering how we managed to finance this delivery, after blowing our money on a fist-sized bowl of French onion soup and very pretty, very tight formal dresses. We didn’t. Ellie’s mom did. She believes in The Art of Good Soup, so she funded us. Leave it to a mom to tell you that everything you make is really, really good when it sometimes really, really isn’t.

Maybe we’re just being anxious, telling you that this column isn’t all that great. And insecure, and self-deprecating. This column sucks — don’t read any further. Go back to Tinder or Sidechat.

The soup, like our three bottles of liquid, came in a brown paper bag. It did not contain utensils, even though we requested utensils. When you don’t get utensils, you end up eating fistfuls of fried rice with your hands and dancing on picnic tables and throwing it at strangers and smelling like soy sauce when you wake up. Suffice to say, we really wanted some utensils. Please, Uber Eats. Give. Us. Utensils.

Not that it matters. Sadie stole some forks from Hodg last Wednesday. It should also be noted that she wanted to steal the mattress from The Mods, but it was too large.

Our order from Pho n’ Rice arrived, and we were thrilled. We ate on the floor because tables are for dancing and red Solo Cups.

Ellie ordered the pho ga with chicken, and Sadie ordered the pho Thai with beef. We considered trying the vegetarian, but we love meat in our mouths.

We said hello to the scallions once again. We were confused why they were following us and concerned that they might want something serious; we weren’t ready to commit to just one vegetable. 

Still, they didn’t pressure us. They only added to the wonderful saltiness of the broth. We brought the bowls up to our faces, because it was difficult to go down. We still went to town, though. We alternated between broth and noodles, using our tongues to have some fun. 

We didn’t reach bowl-bottom tonight. Vibes were low, and we weren’t in the mood. Ellie tried to pretend that she enjoyed the noodles, but Sadie could tell she was faking it. Sadie and Ellie are both great liars with plenty of practice. 

It was still an enjoyable experience. It left us tingling and ready to dance. We rate this soup 9.696 spoons. Shoutout Ellie’s mom. Shoutout Oprah. Shoutout the Dalai Lama. Spread the love, spread the soup. Peace.


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