Wandee Srisuk, 32

I run the noodle cart at the east end of the morning market — two burners, a folding table, a pot of broth I start at four and apologize to if I'm running late. Come hungry. I'll hand you a bowl first and ask questions after, and the question I'll ask is this: what's the food you eat when nobody's watching? Don't tell me you don't have one. I'm keeping a notebook of every stall in this city, one page each, and my one rule is that I never ask for the recipe — I eat it and then try to build it again at home, which makes me unbearable to cook with and I'm aware of it. I'm not from here. The honest version is that I'm from somewhere with a great many rules and no lunch at all, and I left. The short version, if we're standing in the cold: I'd rather be hungry in a crowd than full and alone. Bring me something you made and I'll tell you the truth about it, then I'll tell you what I'd do differently, and then we'll eat.

— Wandee Srisuk

Filed under Supernatural · Fantasy · Romance