floury prose

In my many quotidian past lives I must have been a noodle slut.

How else to explain my perpetual penchant for noodles, pasta, phat thai, ramen, fried Hokkien prawn mee (the light and slightly wet type with bee hoon and morsels of sotong and absolutely NOOO chilli thank you), prawn mee (the soupy and dry types with huge whole prawns – I just HATE those bloody stall owners who halve their pathetic coin-sized shrimps – and the super toxic but deathly delicious and faint blood-coloured soup AND not forgetting the tender lean meat on bones the size of my wrist), chicken feet noodles, wanton (indeed) noodles, fried dumpling noodles, fishball noodles, bak chor mee, lor mee, ban mian (handmade) noodles, lamb noodles ARRRRRGH stopitalready.

*trying hard to breathe, calm down and dissolve devilishly desirable dishes*

*think gory wounds, dog poo and George Bush*

It must be the take-away chicken feet and mushroom noodles I had for lunch today – that fantabulous juice sloshing on the tongue… stopitalreadygetagrip.

So bloody al dente and aromatic the noodles. Such a religious feeling. Yup, church ain’t the only place to feel it.

Noodles for breakfast, lunch and dinner? I’ll chant to that!

Perhaps it has to do with my mum gorging herself silly on bee hoon and noodles when she was carrying me as a foetal beanpole.

(Okay okay, so my figure resembles a string of noodle. Adds a bit of that hmm-I-see but that’s besides the point.)

Whatever it is, I can’t get enough of ’em.

But that don’t mean I’ll eat them EVERYDAY though.

I’m noodle crazy but I’m not THAT noodle crazy.

Ock, Ming and Gen swear they can live on Hainanese chicken rice EVERY MEAL, EVERYDAY *grimace and puke* but no way not me man…

Too much of a good thing doesn’t compute in their brains, apparently.

I can’t recall a day when I hated or got bored of noodles. I was just born with the love I guess. But in moderation.

For me, there’s nothing more seductive than seeing a steaming hot bowl or plate of languidly and invitingly artsy-messy noodles topped with fresh carefully laid meat and veggies and sprinkled with herbs and other ingredients and absolutely NOOO chilli thank you.

Every other day in my getting-rather-distant-working life, I would look forward to linguini with carbonara sauce and garlic, an absolute favourite from Pasta Fresca. Neapolitan is tangy and nice but a tad too citric for my jello bowels.

Or phat thai – introduced by Gen and eternally grateful for it – from the stall manned by the 2 friendly Thai ladies at Meridien Food Court. My cuisine quirk when eating it would be to slosh a sinful helping of sugar guiltlessly on top of the pile, topped with parsley and NOOO chilli thank you.

Or the world’s most expensive but soothing prawn mee where the soup comes sweet, plentiful, fragrant, concentrated and hot at the pre-renovated Hyatt café where I would splurge some comfort food money after busting my breath and health OT-ing to ungodly hours for slave driving ex-bosses.

Much as I want to lob off their heads, I’d never dare such the brain juices of the prawn heads. DIS-gust-ting lah.

While Ock finds noodles a bloody turnoff (mention ‘soupy noodles’ and he turns testy; every time I grin, twitch my eye and say ‘ban mian’ he becomes ballistically eloquent like Quentin Tarantino in Reservoir Dogs), Ari swears by handmade noodles cos she finds them filling and value for money.

That sense of fillingness is one point. But I also prefer the chewiness of well cooked thin noodles that is just right and feels so damn nice and good between the teeth. Cannot be too mush or hard crunch. No, I’m not fussy – I like Maggi instant noodles plain or with other stuff just as well.

And then of cos unlike the Asian food staple, noodles are fun.

Slurping on juicy endless strands of al dente pasta is one. I just loooove twirling it with a fork on a spoon – the way I learnt to eat pasta from me granddad.

Try twirling rice on a fork…

With noodles, I just feel satisfied, accomplished and happy after I'm done.

With rice, I'm like: 'Oh. It's done. Hm-mm. Whatever.'

So while we will never see the end of rice as queen (pardon the pun ;]) on the dinner table, noodles and other strands of flour have definitely wormed their way into my staple diet heart.