Noodles

Noodles is the name of the beloved little Chinese Mom-and-Pop restaurant located just around the corner from my apartment. Now Noodles isn't the official name, but the awning is full of characters and because they do actually serve noodles the name seems fitting. We were first introduced the day I moved in by my two roommates, Kevin and Alex (boy and girl) and it was love at first taste. Meals, which include the dish and a bowl of soup are 10RMB (about $1.35) and there are pictures on the wall of anything you'd want to order. There have to be about half a dozen small restaurants of the same genre nearby, but in part because I've had some bad meals in China and in part because familiarity breeds confidence, I stand by Noodles. This isn't to say my taste buds haven't strayed, for just last night on my way home from my companies Chinese New Years party, I sampled the cuisine of their inferior competitors next door. In addition to being more expensive, the taste was lacking, there were bones in their meat and they neglected to provide me with a starch (which is what I really wanted after the party). It was, however, open which my beloved Noodles was not.

I ate at Noodles twice today. For lunch it was noodles with chicken, potato and peppers and a tangy spicy seasoning. At dinner I ate beef, peppers and onions stir-fried over rice and I can't tell you if lunch or dinner was more delicious. The only thing that disappointed me was the man working didn't smile or laugh at me for coming back.

As I sat there at lunch waiting for my dish, this man went to the front of the store and pulled some stretchy white dough apart from its brethren which they keep in a bag. He needed this snow white dough as you'd expect taffy to be pulled and pushed, stretching it with his arms as far as they would go, then twisting it together like a tangled phone cord to need it back together. I was rather fascinated by the entire spectacle, but quickly realized he was making noodles before my eyes. Before I knew it they dough had been flattened and he was laying individual strips into the giant boiling pot of water facing the street as if to greet passerbys and announce that this indeed is a noodle restaurant. It was not until the man removed the noodles in a colander and, with the noodles still steaming, walked past me back into the kitchen that I realized I had just watched him make my noodles before my very eyes. Within another minute a stern but efficient woman presented me with my plate of delicious noodles.

As I ate and reflected on the wonder of watching my food prepared in front of me, a small boy who lives in Noodles played under my table. He can't be older than 3, but the restaurant is his playground and he has been very present and active in almost all of my visits. While I'm sure his hearty immune system can handle it, I can't help but cringe when I see him crawling. The boy is both wonderfully curious and not intrusively aggressive, usually studying and taking note of the foreigners that come in (me and my roommates rounding out that list so far as I've seen), but not staring. The child is neither thin nor overly fat, but perhaps a little larger than a boy who doesn't spend his free time in Noodles.

The picture of me and tea house is from my tour of Yuyuan gardens on my 3rd day in Shanghai, but I wanted to prove I actually was in China, and not making this all up from a bunker in my parents basement. Yesterday was my 1 month anniversary in China, that's 1/12 of my time here gone! The best news is that today for the first time I really feel at home. After a marathon 3 hour shopping excursion, I have my own sheets, my own tea mug (with dragons on it!), my own water heater and even my own toaster oven! After shopping I returned home to hang out with my roommates and watch movies. Its nice to have a home.