Ballet

The chief cook and bottle washer and general jill-of-all-trades at my favorite feu (noodle) place in the neighborhood is a sight to behold. She's not much over five feet, hair in a medium length ponytail, cute, with a wonderful smile and perpetually in an apron. But put her into her domain, that little rectangle that encompasses her workspace, and she turns into an artist. Once in awhile she'll leave her confines for the Coke cooler (which, of course, contains everything except Coke), but generally she works her magic in a spot most of us would consider claustrophobic. Some noodles here, some veggies, bean curd, meatballs and onions to flavor the broth, oh, and don't forget to tend to that kao bpat (fried rice)! It's like an intricate ballet, every move purposeful yet graceful in its pragmatism. She smiles at the passersby. You want that order to go? Certainly! Hot soup ladled into a plastic bag, extra ingredients beside it, add the Lao spoons and you're on your way. She's mesmerizing. Everyone's delicacy is ready, as ordered, in a moment, even if you wish it might take a bit longer.