If there were phở places nearby that opened early, my post-coffee walk on my days off would often lead there. Second cup of coffee, Vietnamese drip with chicory, and a bowl of noodle soup to brighten the mood and quicken the spirit. I'm particularly fond of broad rice stick noodles (沙河粉), more of a northern thing), but I like the playful overload of Southern garnishes: basil, mint, cilantro, lime juice, bean sprouts, and a dash of fish sauce.
羅勒 (九層塔)、薄荷葉、芫荽葉、青檸汁、芽菜與魚露。
And the smells: ginger, lemon grass, coffee, burnt sugar, salty.
Early morning light slanting in, reflecting off surfaces.
Stainless steel, glass, and ceramic.
The Oakland hills in the morning from the upper levels of Nob Hill are blue undulates beyond the bridge, in the near distance buildings show their shadow faces to the viewer.
Seagulls, crows, wood doves, and small flocks of loud parrots.
On working days there is no time for that.
Nor are any suitable kitchens near.
Lunch in Marin is dreary.
Today I work.
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