The Best Chao in the World

By My-Thuan Tran

My dad cooked only one dish when I was growing up, over and over. It was the only
time he commanded the kitchen that usually bustled with f ive women and their
complicated concoctions.

His dish was simple. Three ingredients: a chicken, an onion, roasted grains of rice. 
Simmered
in a pot with water until the grains blossomed and the chicken released a light broth.
Tasted
to perfection with dashes of fish sauce that soothed the grains and served with a pinch of
fresh cilantro and scallions. Chao ga. To describe it in English makes it sound 
unappetizing.

My dad e-mails my sister who lives nearby him, “Come home to eat the best chao in the
world!” I live far away now, so I can’t come eat the best chao in the world.
The city I live in pulses constantly. But when I feel like I need to find a bit of quiet, I buy
a
chicken, some rice and an onion and watch the dish unfold as the commotion from the
city melts away.

Watch the grains blossom
As my apartment fills up
With the scent of home