The restaurant space sits empty. The lease clock is running, but David Chen honored the force majeure clause — rent is abated during government-mandated closures. The space waits. The half-painted walls wait. The polished concrete floor waits. Everything waits.
I go there sometimes. Not to work — just to stand in the room. To remind myself it's real. To touch the prep table and the hood system and the wall where the sign will go. Smoke and Fish Sauce. Bobby Tran BBQ. It's still coming. Just not yet.
The day job is struggling. My manager called Monday: revenue is down sixty percent. Half our restaurant clients are closed. The other half are buying nothing. He's implementing furloughs — two days a week off for everyone. My paycheck just dropped forty percent.
Forty percent. That's real. That's not abstract. That's the difference between comfortable and tight. I redid the budget on Tuesday night: mortgage (rent — I still don't own the Alief house), truck payment, insurance, food, utilities. The numbers work if I cut everything non-essential. Non-essential meaning: no restaurant equipment purchases, no competition entry fees, no eating out (not that anywhere is open). The smoker runs on wood I've already stockpiled. The cooking goes on.
The kids don't know about the furlough. They don't need to. Tyler offered to pick up extra hours at Shipley's (they're still open — donut shops are essential, apparently). Emma offered to sell her panna cotta through a delivery service. Lily offered to monetize the Instagram. My children are trying to save me. I'm the parent. I save them.
"We're fine," I told them. "I've been through worse." That's true. I've been through divorce and drinking and the Gulf of Mexico and a kitchen floor. A furlough is uncomfortable. It's not dangerous.
Made a budget-friendly dinner: chao with leftover chicken, ginger, and scallion. Rice porridge. The cheapest, most filling meal in the Vietnamese repertoire. When money is tight, you make chao. When the world is uncertain, you make chao. When you're scared and can't show it, you make chao and eat it standing up and remind yourself that rice and water and heat can make something good out of nothing.
That's the lesson. That's the whole lesson. Something good out of nothing. My parents did it. Ma did it on a boat with forty-two other people. I can do it in a kitchen with a bag of rice and a chicken carcass.
We're fine. We'll be fine.
That bowl of chao reminded me of something I already knew but needed to feel again: ginger is a survival ingredient. It shows up when money is short and warmth is necessary and you need food to feel like a decision, not a defeat. This sesame ginger roasted cauliflower soup isn’t chao — but it carries the same intention. Pantry staples, a hot oven, a little sesame oil, and the kind of ginger that clears your head and steadies you. Make it on a furlough Tuesday. Make it standing up if you have to. It still counts.
Sesame Ginger Roasted Cauliflower Soup
Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 40 min | Total Time: 50 min | Servings: 4
Ingredients
- 1 large head cauliflower, cut into florets (about 6 cups)
- 3 tablespoons sesame oil, divided
- 1 tablespoon fresh ginger, grated
- 4 cloves garlic, minced
- 1 medium yellow onion, diced
- 4 cups low-sodium vegetable broth
- 1 can (13.5 oz) full-fat coconut milk
- 2 tablespoons low-sodium soy sauce
- 1 tablespoon rice vinegar
- 1/2 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes (optional)
- Salt and black pepper to taste
- 2 scallions, thinly sliced, for garnish
- 1 teaspoon toasted sesame seeds, for garnish
Instructions
- Preheat and prep. Preheat oven to 425°F. Toss cauliflower florets with 2 tablespoons of sesame oil and a pinch of salt. Spread in a single layer on a rimmed baking sheet.
- Roast the cauliflower. Roast for 25–30 minutes, flipping once halfway through, until edges are deeply golden and caramelized. Set aside.
- Build the base. In a large pot over medium heat, warm the remaining 1 tablespoon sesame oil. Add onion and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened, about 5 minutes. Add garlic and ginger and cook 1 minute more until fragrant.
- Simmer. Add roasted cauliflower and vegetable broth to the pot. Bring to a gentle boil, then reduce heat and simmer for 10 minutes.
- Blend. Using an immersion blender (or carefully transferring in batches to a standing blender), puree the soup until smooth and creamy.
- Finish and season. Stir in coconut milk, soy sauce, and rice vinegar. Add red pepper flakes if using. Taste and adjust salt and pepper. Simmer on low for 3–5 minutes to bring everything together.
- Serve. Ladle into bowls and top with sliced scallions and toasted sesame seeds. Serve immediately.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 285 | Protein: 6g | Fat: 22g | Carbs: 19g | Fiber: 5g | Sodium: 590mg
About the cook who shared this
Bobby Tran
Week 210 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.