In a quiet little village surrounded by rolling hills and lush green fields, lived a cheerful baby monkey named Bibi. With bright eyes full of curiosity and a heart as warm as sunshine, Bibi was loved by everyone who met him. But among all those who adored the little monkey, one person stood out—Uncle Phong.
Uncle Phong was not Bibi’s relative by blood, but in the truest sense of family, he was everything. A kind-hearted, gentle man with a deep laugh and hands that knew the secret of cooking from the soul, Uncle Phong had taken Bibi in when the monkey was just a tiny baby. Since then, they had shared a life of laughter, kindness, and delicious food.
One late afternoon, as the golden sun dipped behind the trees, Bibi was swinging playfully on a wooden beam beside the kitchen. His little stomach gave a loud growl. The smell coming from the kitchen was too hard to ignore. Something warm, something savory, and something with the unmistakable scent of home was brewing.
Uncle Phong, wearing his old checkered apron, was stirring a large clay pot. Steam rose gently, carrying with it the scent of simmering gourd, garlic, and a hint of fresh herbs from the garden. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Bibi peeking in with his little hands gripping the door frame and wide eyes full of hope.
“Ah, you’re just in time, little one,” Uncle Phong chuckled. “I made your favorite—gourd soup!”
Bibi’s face lit up. He clapped his hands and did a little hop, his excitement filling the air with joy. Gourd soup was more than just food to Bibi. It was comfort, a memory of countless evenings sitting together with Uncle Phong, telling stories while slurping the delicious broth. It was made with homegrown ingredients, but more importantly, it was cooked with love.
Uncle Phong carefully ladled the soup into a deep ceramic bowl. The light green slices of gourd floated gently in the golden broth, accompanied by tender bits of minced pork, fresh herbs, and the delicate oil shimmer of a well-balanced soup. The smell alone made Bibi’s mouth water.
“Here you go,” Uncle Phong said, placing the bowl gently in front of Bibi. “Be careful, it’s hot.”
Bibi, ever so polite, bowed his head slightly before picking up his small wooden spoon. He blew on the first spoonful, then took a sip. The warmth of the broth spread instantly through his body. It was smooth, rich in flavor, and perfectly seasoned. The gourd was soft but still had a bit of bite, and the pork was juicy and savory. Bibi let out a happy sigh. It was heavenly.
“Mmm! So yummy!” Bibi exclaimed, his tail swaying behind him. “Uncle Phong, you’re the best cook in the whole world!”
Uncle Phong smiled and took a seat across the table with his own bowl. “Well, when you cook with love, even simple food becomes magical,” he said.
The two sat quietly for a while, savoring the soup. Birds chirped gently outside, and a soft breeze brought the scent of blooming jasmine through the window. It was a perfect evening
Bibi paused for a moment, then asked, “Uncle Phong, why do you always make gourd soup for me?”
Uncle Phong leaned back in his chair, his eyes drifting to the horizon beyond the open kitchen window. “You know, when I was your age, my grandmother used to make this very same soup. She told me that the gourd brings coolness to the body and peace to the heart. When I make it for you, it reminds me of her love—and I want you to feel the same comfort she gave me.”
Bibi nodded slowly, his eyes a little misty. He didn’t know what to say, but he understood. Every spoonful was a spoonful of love passed down from one generation to another.
After they finished eating, Uncle Phong got up and brought a small plate of sweet banana rice cakes for dessert. Bibi munched happily while Uncle Phong cleaned the dishes, humming an old lullaby.
As the stars began to appear in the night sky, Bibi curled up on a cushion near the window, his belly full and his heart even fuller. Uncle Phong joined him with a blanket, wrapping it gently around Bibi’s shoulders.
“You know,” Uncle Phong said softly, “there will come a day when you’ll cook for someone you love. And when that day comes, you’ll remember this moment.”
Bibi looked up at him with sleepy eyes and gave a tiny nod. “I’ll make the best gourd soup ever.”
Uncle Phong chuckled. “I’m sure you will, my little chef.”
The crickets began to sing, and the village settled into its peaceful nighttime rhythm. The warmth of the kitchen, the scent of the soup, and the love that filled the house made everything feel safe.
In a world that could often be noisy and confusing, this quiet dinner, this bowl of soup, and this deep bond between an old man and a little monkey stood as a reminder: sometimes, the simplest things—like a meal made with love—are the most powerful.
And so, Bibi drifted off to sleep with a smile on his face, dreaming of green gourds, warm soup, and Uncle Phong’s loving voice guiding him through the kitchen of life.
