Drunken Noodle Sweats.

I recently stumbled across an excellent resource for journal prompts. This one in particularly appealed to me today:

When was your last food craving, and what did you crave?

To know Austin, is to love its food trucks. On my side of town is a gem of a truck known as Thai Thani. A mere 5 minute bike ride up a slightly sloping hill, you’ll notice the yellow truck with red lettering sitting stationary, sandwiched between an old-Southern-home-turned-fine-eatery and a no-frills gas station. In this 8 x 8 box on wheels stands a thin-framed, obviously exasperated Thai woman who begrudgingly is ready to cook you the greatest Thai food you could imagine.

To answer the question: I crave Thai. Often. Spicy and sweet. How I love the pepper-laden, oil-drenched, basil-infused, cilantro-sprinkled, sweet and sour goodness of just about any dish. Make your selection from an occasionally-rotating dry erase board menu and expect to wait…and wait…and wait. There’s a line on the menu that basically reads, “we could give two shits about your wait time,” though a little more bluntly and written in broken english. But like many eateries around these parts, totally worth it.

The bike ride down went smoothly, though due to summer humidity, I already found myself dripping with sweat upon arrival. I approached the counter, but dare not ring the service bell. 5 minutes of lingering later, the woman approaches the window and takes my order. I wait 20 minutes. The usual. At this point I’ve made the decision to take my drunken noodles up the road and eat in the comfort of my air-conditioned home. As I begin to pile noodles of pepper-flaked goodness into my mouth, the temperature suddenly catches up to me. Oh shit, oh shit, its hit me. My mouth feels hotter than an erupting volcano on the hottest day in hell. The old sweat of the ride paired with the new sweat of the spice! I flounder, I chug, I inhale 2 pieces of bread!

I repeat.

And repeat.

The pain of the spice is worth the pleasure of a craving satisfied.

 

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