The Texas freeze. February 2021. If you weren't in Texas for this, let me describe it: the entire state's power grid collapsed. Temperatures dropped to single digits. Pipes froze. Houses lost heat. People died.
Monday night the power went out at my house in Alief. The temperature inside dropped to forty degrees by Tuesday morning. I moved the kids — Tyler, Emma, and Lily (they were all at my place that week) — into the living room with every blanket, sleeping bag, and coat in the house. Tyler ran extension cords from the Civic's cigarette lighter to charge our phones. Emma boiled water on the camping stove I'd used for Ma during Harvey.
Ma. I called her at 6 AM Tuesday. No power. Her house is old — poor insulation, single-pane windows. She was sitting in her bed in three layers of clothing with the blankets from every room piled on top. Her voice was steady. "I'm fine, Bao." She's always fine. She's never fine.
I drove to her house. The roads were ice. I slid through two intersections. The Alief neighborhood was dark — no streetlights, no porch lights, nothing. I found Ma in her bedroom, cold but alive. I brought her to my house. She protested the entire way. "I can stay home." "My pipes will freeze." "Who will watch the house?" I said, "Ma, your house can freeze. You can't."
Seven people in my living room: me, Tyler, Emma, Lily, Ma, Ashley (Tyler picked her up from her apartment, which had no power and no heat), and Tam Nguyen from down the street (his heater died and his wife was at their daughter's house in a heated area).
I cooked on the camping stove and the flat-top griddle, which runs on propane and doesn't need electricity. Pho — because pho is what you make when the world is falling apart. I made a six-hour version on the propane burner in the garage, with the garage door cracked for ventilation, wearing a ski jacket and gloves. The broth simmered in twenty-degree air. The steam rose and froze on contact.
We ate pho in the dark living room by flashlight. Seven people, cross-legged on the floor, slurping noodles, warming their hands on bowls. Ma sat in the good chair (I carried it from the porch) and ate her bowl and said, "This is like the boat." She said it matter-of-factly. Cold, dark, crowded, uncertain. Like the boat.
Except this time we have pho and blankets and each other.
The power came back Thursday afternoon. Three days without electricity, without heat, without the grid that holds civilization together. We survived on propane, camping stoves, and the broth that has carried this family through everything.
The pipes at Ma's house froze and burst. Again. Three years after Harvey, the same house, a different disaster. We spent the weekend shutting off the water, draining what we could, and calling plumbers who are booked until April.
Texas. The state that can't keep the lights on but can smoke a brisket in any weather. I love it here. I hate it here. I'm never leaving.
We ate pho by flashlight for three days — and I’d do it again — but the first thing I made once the power came back Thursday afternoon was something simple, something I didn’t have to babysit in a ski jacket in a twenty-degree garage. Creamy noodles: fast, warm, and the kind of thing that says it’s over, we made it without any ceremony. Ma ate two bowls. Tyler ate three. After what this family had just been through, a pot of noodles in a warm kitchen with the lights on felt like the most extraordinary thing in the world.
Creamy Noodles
Prep Time: 5 min | Cook Time: 25 min | Total Time: 30 min | Servings: 6
Ingredients
- 12 oz wide egg noodles
- 3 tablespoons unsalted butter
- 3 cloves garlic, minced
- 1 cup chicken broth
- 1 cup heavy cream
- 4 oz cream cheese, softened and cubed
- 1/2 cup grated Parmesan cheese
- 1/2 teaspoon onion powder
- 1/2 teaspoon black pepper
- Salt to taste
- 2 tablespoons fresh parsley, chopped (optional, for serving)
Instructions
- Cook the noodles. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Cook egg noodles according to package directions until just tender. Reserve 1/2 cup pasta water, then drain and set aside.
- Build the base. In the same pot over medium heat, melt butter. Add garlic and cook, stirring, for about 1 minute until fragrant — don’t let it brown.
- Add the liquids. Pour in chicken broth and heavy cream. Stir to combine and bring to a gentle simmer over medium-low heat.
- Melt in the cream cheese. Add the cubed cream cheese and whisk until fully melted and the sauce is smooth, about 3—4 minutes.
- Finish the sauce. Stir in Parmesan, onion powder, and black pepper. Taste and adjust salt. If the sauce is too thick, loosen it with a splash of the reserved pasta water.
- Combine and serve. Add the drained noodles back to the pot and toss until every noodle is coated. Serve immediately, topped with fresh parsley if you have it.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 430 | Protein: 12g | Fat: 24g | Carbs: 42g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 380mg
About the cook who shared this
Bobby Tran
Week 248 of Bobby’s 30-year story
· Houston, Texas
Bobby Tran was born in a refugee camp in Arkansas to parents who fled Saigon with nothing. He grew up in Houston straddling two worlds — Vietnamese at home, Texan everywhere else — and learned to cook from his mother's pho and a neighbor's BBQ smoker. He's a former shrimper, a recovering alcoholic, a divorced dad of three, and the guy who marinates brisket in fish sauce and lemongrass because he doesn't believe in borders, especially when it comes to flavor.