I’d been really unwell but had made a commitment to catsit in a part of town that I didn’t actually realise is something of a personal Bermuda triangle for me. My body was hating me – everything was making me nauseous and/or vomit. Even asthma attacks – if I coughed too hard, I threw up.
Life was going well but eventually my body conspiring against me was really starting to get me down in a almost in tears way.
I don’t do tears. Anger, apparently, but not tears.
Thankfully, Tristan came to give me a bit of comfort and distraction. The trio of cats I was looking after were equally wonderful, but somewhat ravenous (I’d thrown up on myself practising my melodica with no warning and they tried to eat my vomit, I shit you not).
Both of us were poor. Box Hill was nearby. It was time for pho. It seemed somewhat sacrilegious to go to Box Hill for pho rather than not Richmond or Footscray but I had no money to fill up my petrol tank.
We decided to give Pho 888 a shot. At least if I hurled, it would have been with the knowledge that it provided some comfort and sustenance at the time and at $8 a bowl, it wasn’t going to be a guilty hurl either.
Tris got the sliced rare beef pho which I coveted. Can’t go wrong with the classics, can you? Warning in advance: the photos are as ghetto as I was feeling.
The condiments were more than pleasing – generous amounts of everything and fresh. Always an excellent sign.
Despite my food envy over Tris’ choice, I went with the beef sausage with black peppercorn pho. I first had something similar at Co Do and it has haunted my palate ever since in the best way possible. So, so good. My dish did not disappoint and I slurped and scarfed down my bowl as if I’d never had pho in my life. Apparently it was just the thing to settle my ailing stomach. Oh noodles, why you be so good to me.
Service is minimal, but that was part of the charm. I’d chosen it based on Urbanspoon ratings and proximity to trio of adorable beasties’ palace and quite a shame I actually live so far as I’d definitely revisit though would be keen to hear my self-appointed pho king Billy’s opinion on it of course as my broth palate isn’t anywhere near as developed as his.