Inspired by Storm Garner’s recent workshop, “Editing for the Mass Market: Tips and Tidbits from the Queens Night Market Vendor Stories Oral History Project,” wherein she chronicles stories from people of diverse backgrounds about the food they create, Rattana Bounsouaysana explores the idea around the different meanings of comfort.

Comfort can be many things for different people. It can be a fluffy blanket or a cup of hot cocoa on a cold, blustery day. It can be reading a special book from childhood. It can be hiking or taking long walks out in your favorite park. 

During one of the freakiest weather moments in Texas history, comfort for my younger sister, Carolyn, was creating homemade Laotian dishes.

It’s hard to imagine that a state such as Texas, known for tornadoes, mild winters, and sweltering summers with temperatures reaching as high as 100 degrees Fahrenheit, could ever have a winter storm that would ground everything to a standstill. But that is what happened in February 2021. Below freezing temperatures lasting well into a week halted traffic and travel, and many lost heat, electricity, and water. Those who were spared the frozen pipes and power outages took advantage of this uncommon weather event by playing in the snow, going sledding or, in my sister’s case, cooking.

“It was winter storm week, and you just want soup or something homey,” Carolyn explained. “And then usually when I’m at home, if it’s colder, I think I tend to crave pho or kow piak sen.” 

Kow piak sen is the Lao version of chicken noodle soup and is typically eaten for breakfast or brunch. The roads were too icy to drive, but even if Carolyn could have gotten safely to the Lao food store, she knew she’d be unsatisfied with just purchasing the ready-made noodles available there. Carolyn did what most people do today: she turned to social media for some how-to videos. She learned how to make the noodles from scratch using a combination of rice and tapioca flour, the broth from simmered chicken thighs, bones, onion, garlic, ginger, and other herbs. The only thing she could not make were blood blocks, gelatinous cubes resembling tofu or Jell-o made from pig’s blood, so those did not make it in. 

The combination of short videos and photographs show the steps to making kow piak sen which is a Lao chicken noodle soup. First there is the kneading of the dough, the noodles cut into strips, the noodles being placed into a mesh strainer to cook over boiling water, pieces of cooked chicken placed into the bowl of noodles, hot broth spooned into the bowl, spring onions sprinkled on top, and finally the finished bowl with fried garlic and red chili paste. Classical Lao music using the laanat, a Lao xylophone, and the ta phon drum, is playing in the background.

“If you don’t know how to cook Lao food or your food of choice, then you’re going to have to learn that yourself,” Carolyn continued. “But it’s fun, too, learning the process and how I like to make things.”

Carolyn is like many people who may not have paid much attention to their heritage food when they were young but find themselves drawn back as adults. What spurred Carolyn into her cooking foray?

“I just craved Lao food because I moved out, so [laughs] someone has to make it. When you go to a regular restaurant, you don’t see everything that you would normally eat at home. So, what is Lao food for the youth might be different when they get older. I guess it’s like identity because I still don’t think Lao food is properly represented in all restaurants.” 

Ok, Grandma! Thanks for showing off your mad cooking skills! 

Oh, so, I should also mention that my sister is also our late grandmother. 

Let me explain. 

According to the story, when Carolyn was around 3-5 years old, she was sitting in the backseat of the car while Dad played a cassette tape of Buddhist prayers and chants. He looked in the rearview mirror and saw she had her hands clasped in prayer. At that moment, our dad was convinced that this was his late mother, our grandmother. 

Grandma’s name was Chantry, from which Carolyn’s middle name, Chansamone, is derived. Reincarnation, a common belief in Theravada Buddhism practiced by many Laotians, considers that a person’s soul is reborn into another being. 

Our mom also shared a story, detailing how Nyaa (the formal designation for Grandma on the paternal side) appeared in her dream when she was pregnant with Carolyn—a strong indicator for reincarnation. My other sisters and I find it amusing, but no one has denied the possibility. If anything, this belief isn’t causing anyone any harm, and we realize Carolyn as Nyaa brings great comfort to our father. So, everyone from the immediate to the extended family holds this conviction. 

There is a comfort in identity, knowing and discovering who you are. And what can be more comforting than having your grandmother cook a traditional warm soup on a cold winter day? 

Even if your grandmother is you.

Rattana Bounsouaysana is an administrative coordinator at the Weatherhead East Asian Institute at Columbia and a masters candidate in the Oral History Masters of Art (OHMA) program exploring the stories of Lao-Americans and their embodied experiences.