Okay okay, so we've established that I freakin' love food. I'm a junkie for new restaurants, hole in the wall places and Old Fresno standbys. A little part of me died when the Old Fresno Hofbrau on Tulare packed its bags and ran away to Idaho (Idaho, right? I'm not making that up? I could be delusional from lack of meat.) And the closingof the old Plaza restaurant that used to be on Shields and First in favor of Plaza Ventana(s), on Shaw and Feland, and then again at Blackstone and Shaw seriously made me cry- does "Ventana" mean remove cheesy flour tortilla crisp off the menu in Spanish? Not okay with me, tortilla chips can never bandage that open wound.

But I am inconsolable right now, as I am coming to terms with the fact that the Thai Hung Lee Noodle House on Maroa and Shaw may not be opening its doors again anytime soon. If you hadn't experienced this wondrous place, let me illuminate for you the magic within. It's Phở. Its Chinese food, but not panda express style. In fact you'd be hard pressed to even get anything resembling stinkin' orange chicken. It's pearl smoothie goodness and real, plastic chopsticks. Its elevator-music-style oldies hits like "Itsy Bitsy Teeny Weenie Yellow Polka Dot Bikini" and "Tequila" (which amazes me that an almost entirely instrumental song can be made even more instrumental with strategic keyboard and occasional string instruments). And I fear its gone for good.

The lump began swelling in my throat when I had planned to meet there with friends for my birthday in late February, and the sign on the door said they were closed for a month due to family emergency. I put up a sign next to theirs saying we'd relocate at Ming's, another favorite. When I drove by a week later, and at that point a month past the date of return on the sign, my unstated plea for noodles was still hanging there. I pulled up and ripped it down, hoping that they just needed to extend their time for a little longer and selfishly praying for God to solve their emergency situation so the doors would open again.

After driving by several more times and seeing the dull "open" sign unlit in the window, I began to break down slowly. Would I ever have a number 25 again? Would the waitress, always so brusque yet still pleasant, ever explain to me how to dip my meat into the bowl of salt, pepper and lemon juice again? And more importantly, would that little headline on the inside of the menu ever make me giggle when I read "The adventurer's choice, a little bit of fat" again?

Today I wanted my number 25 (beef stew with large egg noodles and a whole lot of lovin'. Seriously. Most people have never had sex as good as this soup.) and found myself grieving heavily in front of the closed doors of Thai Hung Lee. While no signs were up saying they had officially closed shop, I just know they must have. Its been almost 4 months, and I'm dying for my little bit of fat, as I am an adventurer.

Soon I'll be done mourning and would appreciate recommendations for other good noodle shops around town, but my first love will always haunt me. Oh Thai Hung Lee, you truly are the one that got away.