Not the same old same ORD

What a wonderful globe spin it was my own cousins! I went to go to see that marvelous muso from Moscow, Ms. Marina V. The sonorous songbird so charmed your own harlequin that he glided through the streets of Hollywood dancing to her melodies oblivious as to where he was.

Suddenly your own traveling trickster found himself in front of ORD NOODLES, a noodle-ya that specializes in those grinds seen in the lands of reclining buddahs and boat filled klongs.

Well there was nothing more to do than to sit down and engage a big bowl of the house special, a bubbling broth of pork, pesci balls, and floppity rice noodles. Accompanied by a salad of lime spiked ground pork called larb, your own harlequin was prepared for some soul warming grinds that would only lift his already buoyant spirits through the roof.

He did not have to wait long, the server sped the soup to the table and boy was it busy bowl. I mean look at the biosphere of brothy bounty that your own clown of comestibles tucked into, a veritable aquarium of chewy slurpy bits.


All set was your uncle to doctor up the so called spicy soup with the carnival of condiments on the table, that he nearly did not take a test sip. BOOM! The spices and the chilies in the soup caused my glorious hat to shoot three feet off my head, it was obvious oh my brothers, that this soup not only did not need a doctor, it was gym going and could run a marathon.

So with hashi and spoon, your narrator happily attacked the bowl, alternately slurping and panting from the heat.

The larb arrived not too long after, a wondrous plate of chopped carne flavored with cilantro, chilies, and lime all to be spooned up with crunchy cabbage leaves.

Between the soup and the larb you would think that this story would end tragically, your own gamboling gourmoo bursting into fire like a match head. But my own aqua angel, kept my water glass filled, obviously worried that a melting harlequin would spoil others diner’s grinds, and a sweet milk laden Thai tea cooled the inferno in my mouth.

So can I suggest ORD NOODLES to you oh my brothers and sisters? I can! Go plug a cool voiced chanteuse into your ear holes and set to slurping some chili laden noodles. With a cool voice and a spoon full of fire, be prepared for some sun and ice that will make your own little red pump beat brightly. Also be prepared to bring some folding gelt, not a lot, but some, as that is all they take, the cashee money, no cards made of dinosaurs.

Ord Noodles 5401 Hollywood Blvd Los Angeles, CA 90027 (323) 468-9302

Pho, a long long way to ruuuun!!!

It was a cool and grey dayspin when your own Metrowalker went to chase the blues away with a little levante de ferro. As you remember oh my brothers and sister, Glendale is the place where the palace of FE resides.

After a bit of sweating, grunting and general contortionating that goes with chasing away the blues, the growling winds of hunger buffeted your harlequin to and fro. How strange that your uncle thinks of grinds when shortly before all he could think of was air.

Quickly I made my way to a new palace of grinds called The Pho Hut. Once the abode of Korean eats, the Hut of Pho is a very comfortable space, lined with bamboo and slowly turning ceiling fans.

Oh mi familia, we all know nothing beats a cold and damp dayspin better than a big bowl of noodles and broth, so your uncle wasted no time.

Now the first thing that my glassies miraed was a flow chart on the ordering and eating of pho, a honto to Odin flow chart my brothers! Like one of those old doodle drawings you used to make in the 8 to 3, remember? When teacher use to make you clicky-clack the old thinking machines!

I wasted no time and ordered myself a big bowl of pho, with three types of gyu meat. The bovi treats ran to flank steak, thin slices of round steak, and leaf tripe, (and you know how Uncle loves him his tripe) with a side of those fresh spring rolls wrapped in that rice paper that feels like dolphin skin to put pau to my growling stomach.

Oh cousins, the size of the bowl was amazing, you could have bathed a baby in the bowl, with a strong dark broth for the little biosphere of meat and toppings to swim in. The steam off the bowl made it look like an August day here in the smoggy metro of lost angels.

I set to slurping, and found the broth to be salty and flavorful, with hints of ginger, onion, and lots of gyu flavor, there was also the msg….sooo much msg.

I swallowed my soup and the room swam, then a shaker bottle on the table asked your uncle if “he was experienced” whatever that meant. Now dear family, your vibrant victual vagabond, is a hearty creature. No added chemical taste enhancer could fell my desire to grind me some Pho.

Yet all of those silky strands of sumptuous starch were sadly squished into a sphere! They were sunk in the bottom of the bowl and refused the deft enticement of your narrator’s chopsticks. Oh horrors my cousins! A fellow dining with his familia bravely fought with his noodles using his chopsticks and spoon. He finally lifted the entire ball of pasta out of his bowl to wrestle it into airborne submission.

It looked like he had the noodles at his mercy, when with a starchy roar, the creature squirmed away from him and dove back into the dark broth. Its abrupt plunge, splashed him, the lady who accompanied him, and her little keiki with a shower of hot soup causing them a little laughter and the man’s renewed campaign to conquer it.

Well Metrowalker is no noodle novice, he is a patron of pasta, and he knows cousins that the only way to subdue spaghetti, to capture cappellini, is to corner it and douse it with hot liquid. So with spoon and stick I fluffed the pho, and with the help of the broth in the bowl untangled it to all of its glory.

Once subdued, the pho was tender, and alternating bites of fresh spring roll with slurps of soup quickly beat down your own harlequin’s hurricane of hunger.

Can I suggest the Pho hut to you dear cousins? Well if the MSG doesn’t send you shrieking into the night, and you are close to Glendale then it isn’t a bad place at all. The folks are nice, the bowls should come with lifeguards, and the challenge of eating those sticky noodles makes the pho kind of like a prize after defeating a dragon.

The Pho Hut
312 N Brand Blvd
Glendale, CA 91203