Dinner at 5:30

They call it Vietnamese pancake in lieu of pronouncing Bánh Xèo but it isn’t breakfast, it isn’t sugar, syrup, butter

Turmeric and flour mix into batter fried to the color of corn, covered in cooking oil, filled with fat shrimp, bean sprouts, sizzling pork

He examines May’s expert hands rotate rice paper in water, softening it to wrap the pancake with crisp lettuce and cilantro She dips it in her mother’s Nước Mắm, a sweet, spicy, secret fish sauce

Wide-eyed, he copies her, but May’s tiny head shakes warn him as he crumples the crêpe, forces it into shape, pauses and avoids her mother’s sharp gaze As savory flavors fill his mouth, surprise lights up his face unintelligible satisfaction becomes a bright hum