PASSIONATE RATIONS

I had been scheduled to attend a Sunday morning meeting in San Francisco earlier this month, but an airline fiasco out of LAX resulted in my missing the meeting and facing a single afternoon in San Francisco before flying back home.

Ah!  Opportunity.

Wandering the streets of the Union Square area, my spouse and I stumbled upon two noodle houses within a block of each other.  Something (the smiling gods of comestibles?  the lavender awning?) drew us to King of Thai Noodle House at 184 O’Farrell Street (b/w Stockton and Powell).

One glance in the windows verified the choice:  the place was packed.   I feared a wait, but, upon entering, we were whisked to a small corner in the back.  The service remained quick and efficient throughout.  But it was the ethereal food that really rocked the afternoon.

My favorite food finds are always the casual, inexpensive so-called “holes in the wall,” which offer fresh and flavorful finds for a song.   This is one of the best I’ve ever discovered.

From the varied menu (which also offered a number of vegetarian options), I ordered a #8:  Roasted Duck Noodle Soup (boneless sliced roasted duck and Yao Choy in a Chinese herb duck broth).  My sig other ordered the #9 (how sweet–sequential orders):  Yen Ta Fo Noodle Soup (noodles with shrimp, calamari, imitation crab meat, fish balls, sliced fish cakes white mushroom and spinach in red bean broth).  Of the four fun noodle offerings (flat rice, vermicelli, small rice, egg), we both chose the small rice noodles (exhibiting, once again, our culinary compatibility).

The bowls arrived steaming and fragrant.   My broth was a savory golden brown, which bathed a bowl full of tender sliced duck.  My spouse’s broth had taken on the hue of the red bean broth and was a delicious, understated pinkish-tan filled with a veritable ocean’s worth of seafood.

As I leaned over my bowl, the steam warmed my face and tempted my senses.   I hadn’t been overly hungry when I entered the restaurant, but I became ravenous as a myriad of spices tilted and whirled in the air.   I gently sipped some broth from the spoon and was soon riding waves of euphoria.   It was a delicately balanced blend, a warm liquid elixir that perfectly accompanied the duck slices within.   Was that…possibly…nutmeg?  Spoon in one hand, chopsticks in the other, I was unable to stop eating until every last drop had been imbibed.  To leave any of that precious liquid in the bowl would have been a tragic waste.  The small bites I stole from my spouse’s bowl confirmed that his lunch, too, was just this side of transcendence.

Who knew $6.95 could buy nirvana?!