The Noodle Master

Noodles. That’s what my little one says whenever I ask what she wants for breakfast, lunch, or dinner.

My kitchen has two shelves brimming with noodles. Chow mein, lo mein, udon, rice noodles. 

I wake up in a cold sweat, heart racing. It’s always the same nightmare. I boil the water only to realize I’m out of noodles.

I spend a day researching restaurants that serve noodles before vacations. Sleepy islands, ski resorts, Lisbon. Doesn’t matter where I go, I’m always eating noodles.

I tie a hachimaki around my head and mumble a little prayer before I fire up the wok. I’m always trying a new recipe, new sauces, seasonings.

I humbly place the noodle offering before the tiny training chopstick wielding critic. Breath held in while she tries the first bite. Exhale after the subtle nod, a quick thumbs up.

The blood in my veins is thickened with oyster sauce. The skin pores ooze a subtle scent of kikkoman soy sauce. My DNA is altered by thousands of bowls of noodles. Hair a jumbled mess of ramen. I’m a noodle master, through and through.

Paired Listening

Nihon no kome ha sikaiichi – GOKUMON (UchikubiGokumonDoukoukai)

From the Five Part Body Playlist