Have you ever thought about how every decade seems to have one phrase so ingrained in the vernacular it becomes part of the cultural zeitgeist of that era? 

No? I have.

The 60s had “Make love, not war.” The 70s had “Groovy baby ( or maybe that’s just Austin Powers…) The 80’s had “Gag me with a spoon.” I’m not sure what the 50s had- maybe something along the lines of “Stop gyrating your hips to that devil music, you horny teenagers.”

Well this post can only start with the banner phrase from the 90s:  “No offense but…” So here we go:

So… no offense, but pho smells like cat pee. 

Presumably not all pho. Actually, I’m sure not all pho. Probably just the instant cup noodle pho sitting abandoned on the lower shelf of my kitchen cabinet.

You see, my daughter is an Asian food aficionado. Not only does she know what it is, but she also knows how to eat it. She can use chopsticks like a champ and has quite the collection she employs even when we eat our humdrum western hemisphere dinners.

Every year we celebrate Lunar New Year. (Cultural appropriation much? No really- I don’t know. I’m very confused by the whole concept…) This Year of the Snake we went to the Lunar New Year Festival at Stone Mountain. It was wonderful- every avenue was festooned with delicate paper lanterns. There was a dragon parade, a K-Pop dance competition, Asian games, and they even customized their famous laser show for the occasion. Heck, there was even an illuminated zen garden.

But the real star of the show was the food. My husband, oldest daughter, and I feasted on the delicious, albeit more tame, meats on a stick. My youngest went for the pho truck. She gave it rave reviews. 

So what does a mother do when she knows her kid likes pho? Buy a case of the instant variety at a food liquidator store, that’s what. 

One day, after returning home from errands, I am greeted at the door by an overwhelming cat pee smell. It is literally permeating the entire house. So my instinctual thought is a random cat has skulked in and used my house as its own palatial litter box. I know this sounds ridiculous, but believe it or not, this has happened before.

My Foodie had been home all afternoon and pleaded the 5th at interrogation. 

Fast forward a couple of months. It is time for my daughter to get her wisdom teeth removed. So what does a mother do when she knows her kid won’t be able to eat solid foods for a week? She buys popsicles, pudding, applesauce, and remembers that there is pho sitting on the lower shelf of her kitchen cabinet, that’s what.

And that, my friend, is when the truth came out:

“Do you remember that day you came home and said the house smelled like cat pee, and I said I didn’t know why?”

“Yes”

“I know why… It was the pho. I’ll show you.”

There was just no way that tiny little cup of instant noodles could emit such a penetrating odor. No. Just no. It’s only some noodles, water, and dehydrated vegetables. How could that possibly cause such an olfactory offence? I couldn’t believe it. That was until she added the piece de resistance:

 “Flavor oil.”

As soon as she opened that tiny inch squared packet, the urine hit the fan. She was right. I immediately thought of that episode of Keeping Up Appearances where Hyacinth Bucket (That’s BouKay) offers her brother-in-law, Onslow, a glass of sherry. He spits it out and says, “What is that? Fairy piss?”

So that’s why I have a case of stinky abandoned pho sitting on the lower shelf of my kitchen cabinet, because no offense, but this pho smells like cat pee.

Or maybe fairy piss. Is that less offensive? 

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