Regardless of the season, the noodle has withstood the test of time, nourishing our souls, slurp by slurp.
With summer closing and autumn beginning, I find myself struggling to deal with what will inevitably be a sudden change. It always seems to work this way. One day, 90 degree weather ushers us into the air conditioning; the next day, the smell of snow is in the air. What keeps me grounded is simple and sometimes noisy: the wonderful, delicious noodle.
Asia has long courted a noodle love affair that dates back to a poem by Shu Hsi in 300 AD. “A Rhapsody on Pasta” effectively detailed the first methods of Chinese pasta-making—and expressed the romanticism of the noodle world:
“With the fire blazing the broth bubbles;
Strong fumes rise as steam.
Straightening his jacket, straightening his skirt,
The cook grasp and presses, beat and pounds.”
The powerful image of a cook working in the midst of steam has traveled through China’s culinary history, from master chefs hand-pulling noodles to children who, like I once did, slurp a hot bowl of spicy beef noodle soup on a frosty day. I owe my current obsession with noodles to the nostalgia of Shu Hsi’s “blazing broth bubbles” and “strong fumes.”
People might attribute these idyllic images to Marco Polo, whose Italian origins seem fitting for such a romantic picture. Add to that the legend of the Silk Road—where culinary trade occurred frequently—it’s easy to think that Polo brought noodles to China, or vice versa. But sources debunk this myth quickly, stating that the pasta/noodle evolutions occurred separately and independently. Still, China does owe thanks to Italy for its rotary grindstone, which was introduced to China in 3rd century BCE. With this, China began grinding wheat into flour, and the large-scale manufacture of noodles began, thriving during the Han Dynasty.
Today, Americans are picking up on the grace of noodles—but only in the winter. After all, Shu Hsi’s poem gives homage to steam, not sweat. Noodles, however, possess enough versatility to make a good meal even in the summer. Cold noodle dishes, such as wheat noodles with a spicy sesame-peanut sauce, can cool things down. Each culture seems to offer its own form of a cold noodle dish. Japan’s zarusoba, for example, rinses thin buckwheat noodles in cold water and serves it with crumbled nori, scallions and a dipping sauce. The list goes on: Vietnamese bun, Korean naeng-myun (in chilled beef broth), Thai cold glass noodle salad.
So the love affair continues. Now that we’re approaching a transition where change comes without heeding our attachments to the things of a dying season. But noodles, as they have for thousands of years, will remain a comfort. After all, the noodle represents longevity, and what should live long if not something that has already withstood the test of time?
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