Tet. Year of the Pig. Ma's house. The altar is lit. The family is gathered. The food is abundant.
This year's Tet felt bigger than usual. Not in numbers — same people, same house — but in weight. In meaning. Because Ma is seventy-three now and she's been telling stories and giving away chopsticks and the digital photo frame cycles through pictures of everyone she's ever loved, and the accumulation of all these things — the stories, the gifts, the food, the passing down — feels like something is being completed.
I don't want to think about that. So I'll think about the food instead.
The spread: banh tet (our family-made batch, thirty rolls, boiled overnight, sliced and pan-fried until the outside is crispy and the inside is sticky-soft). Ma's spring rolls — fried and fresh. Thit kho. Dua hanh — pickled onion that clears your sinuses and your soul. Che dessert with coconut milk and tarot and mung bean. Rice. Always rice.
Red envelopes. Ma: $50 per grandchild. Me: $20 per child. Tyler: gave Ma a red envelope with $20 of his own Shipley's money inside. Ma opened it, looked at the money, looked at Tyler, and said nothing. She put the envelope in her pocket. Later I found it on her altar, next to Huy's photo. She's keeping her grandson's red envelope with her dead husband's photograph. The meaning of this is bigger than I can process.
Emma read a passage from her essay — "The Recipe as Lifeboat" — out loud to the family. It was the passage about Ma making pho as an act of survival. The room was silent. Linh cried. Ma did not cry but she held the book Emma gave her — the recipe compilation — in her lap the entire time.
Lily asked Ma to teach her a Vietnamese song. Ma taught her "Diem Xua" — an old bolero about the past, about rain, about remembering. Lily sang it badly and beautifully. Ma sang along, her voice thin but true. Two voices, sixty years apart, singing the same song about the same homesickness.
I stood in the doorway and watched. My mother. My children. The food on the table. The incense on the altar. The photos on the frame. Everything that matters in one room.
Chuc mung nam moi. The pig brings prosperity. The food brings us together. The stories keep us alive.
In Vietnamese tradition, long noodles mean long life — you never cut them, never break them, because the length is the blessing. Standing in that doorway watching Ma and Lily sing together, two voices sixty years apart, I understood for the first time what the noodles are really about: the unbroken thread between people who love each other across time. Emma’s essay called pho a lifeboat, and she was right — but any bowl of long noodle soup carries that same prayer inside it. This recipe is my contribution to the table, the dish I bring when I need to say something I don’t have words for.
Asian Long Noodle Soup
Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 40 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour | Servings: 6
Ingredients
- 8 oz dried Asian long noodles (rice vermicelli or thin wheat noodles)
- 1 lb pork tenderloin, thinly sliced
- 6 cups low-sodium chicken or pork broth
- 2 cups water
- 3 cloves garlic, minced
- 1 tablespoon fresh ginger, peeled and grated
- 2 tablespoons soy sauce
- 1 tablespoon fish sauce
- 1 teaspoon sesame oil
- 1 teaspoon sugar
- 2 green onions, thinly sliced
- 1 cup shiitake mushrooms, sliced
- 2 cups baby bok choy, halved
- 1/2 cup bean sprouts
- Fresh cilantro and Thai basil, for serving
- Lime wedges, for serving
- Chili oil or sriracha, for serving
- Salt and white pepper, to taste
Instructions
- Soak the noodles. Place dried noodles in a large bowl and cover with warm water. Soak for 15 minutes until pliable but not fully soft. Drain and set aside. Do not break the noodles — keep them long.
- Build the broth. In a large pot over medium-high heat, combine broth and water. Add garlic, ginger, soy sauce, fish sauce, sesame oil, and sugar. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat and simmer uncovered for 15 minutes to develop flavor.
- Cook the mushrooms. Add sliced shiitake mushrooms to the simmering broth and cook for 5 minutes until tender and fragrant.
- Add the pork. Increase heat to medium. Add pork slices to the broth and cook, stirring gently, for 4–5 minutes until just cooked through. Do not overcook — the slices should stay tender.
- Add greens. Stir in the bok choy and cook for 2 minutes until just wilted. Taste the broth and adjust with salt, white pepper, or a touch more fish sauce as needed.
- Cook the noodles in the soup. Add the drained noodles directly to the pot. Simmer for 2–3 minutes until the noodles are fully tender and have absorbed some of the broth’s flavor.
- Serve immediately. Ladle into deep bowls, making sure each serving gets a full, generous tangle of long noodles. Top with green onions, bean sprouts, cilantro, and Thai basil. Serve with lime wedges and chili oil on the side.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 285 | Protein: 24g | Fat: 6g | Carbs: 32g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 780mg
About the cook who shared this
Bobby Tran
Week 150 of Bobby’s 30-year story
· Houston, Texas
Bobby Tran was born in a refugee camp in Arkansas to parents who fled Saigon with nothing. He grew up in Houston straddling two worlds — Vietnamese at home, Texan everywhere else — and learned to cook from his mother's pho and a neighbor's BBQ smoker. He's a former shrimper, a recovering alcoholic, a divorced dad of three, and the guy who marinates brisket in fish sauce and lemongrass because he doesn't believe in borders, especially when it comes to flavor.