They are a staple to millions, and a romantic treat to others. From busy wedding buffets to quiet funeral plates, their unctuous flavours mark both joy and loss across the changing chapters of our lives.
For me, noodles are both comforting and invigorating - thanks mostly to that extra hot dalle khursani I like to add. Perfect for solitude. And a natural choice for sharing too.
From kings to beggars, noodles are nourishment.
You may think noodles ask nothing of you. Except, perhaps, whether you should add more hot sauce.
But they do ask for patience. Watch how time slows down as they cool. That moment needs to be nurtured, embraced, as anticipation builds quietly - all the while, hunger willing you to attempt that first steaming hot forkful.
And dexterity with an implement is required too. This means concentration. And yet noodles disappear effortlessly when there is conversation to be had.
For me as a chef, noodles were always something more - a place of solitude. A place of reflection. A place of quiet planning. And then, just like the steam that wafts from the wok, they are gone in a matter of mouthfuls.
And what is left? Aside from that chilli tingle still dancing on your lips, you are left with the sense that the world feels brighter. A world more at peace. A world where humble dishes like noodles can connect and unite us more than any army can invade and conquer.
And there’s a bowl to wash up too. A small price to pay for an appetite settled and a head full of worldly wonder.
Kingdoms rise and kingdoms fall. But noodles will always be there, waiting to soothe your soul and lift your day.
Time to fire up the wok, I think.
