On instant noodles

The food of kings.

I was raised on instant noodles. Not shitty Maggi or Fantastic noodles you find in Australian supermarkets with fluorescent labelling and problematic flavours like ‘Oriental’ and ‘Fusian soy and mild spice’, but the Japanese Nissin ramen blocks with sesame oil and artificial tonkotsu sachets. (On a side note, what sicko decided chicken flavour would be green? Who the fuck has ever seen a green chicken?)

As a child of dirt-poor immigrants who lived in the outer-suburbs, we didn’t have babysitters. When my parents had to leave us at home when they went to work, they just closed the curtains, told us to stay away from the windows and to not answer the door under any circumstances. Dinner was often a pack of two-minute noodles (which, at the time, cost 20c) we pimped up with whatever we could reach while standing on a stool fishing around the fridge or freezer. (A fried egg, wilted iceberg lettuce, fish balls/fried spam are still the best additions to two-minute noodles in my opinion- it is my ultimate comfort food.)

Proust may have his madeleines, but my memories are of tearing open the plastic off a brick of dried noodles, the explosion of savoury, artificial powdered stock clinging to the air and the single, scant drop of sesame oil transforming a bowl full of beige into a fragrant delicacy.

In Western cultures, you see parents being told that their kids have to be fed a diet organic angel’s wings that have never been processed, alternative milks, unrefined sugars and tears of a virgin so they can develop their full cognitive ability, but all Asian kids are powered by MSG, deep-fried, highly-refined wheat and cane sugar, and somehow we’re all doctors, engineers and lawyers (or disappointments- there is no other profession). To this very day, if I am going to the Asian supermarket to restock on spices or staples, I somehow leave the store with about 20 packets of instant ramen.

A walk down the noodle aisle is my therapy.

There is nothing more satisfying to me than a well-merchandised wall of instant noodles. From brand to starch-type, region, and size, seeing all those bags lined up on the shelf just fill me with an ocean of calm. Seeing new flavours and brands, for some reason, gives me hope. In a world where everyone is advertising their addiction to freshness, health and organics, it’s good to know that we are all hypocritical pieces of shit who value convenience above all.

So, for all you broke, lazy, pieces of shit, I present to you, the readily available God Tier of instant noodles.

Nissin sesame oil flavoured noodles

This is my childhood in a packet. I shit you not, when the 2011 earthquake and tsunami happened and the supply-chain for these noodles were compromised, my parents bought about 10 cases of this. This little red packet has a lot of significance for me.

Nongshim Shin Ramyun

I discovered this a little late in life because my parents don’t like spice. Yes, there is heat, but not enough to blow your head off. It was also the first time in my life I had a thicker noodle texture than the Nissin brand and when you’re a poor, university student, you need to know when to treat yourself.

Haogemen spicy and sour flavour

If you have more than two minutes, these glass noodles have incredible chew and endless slurpability- the hot and sour flavour is just a bonus. I love them, but I’d say they’re a bit of an acquired taste. Definitely not one to give kids.

Sanyang Guilin rice noodles

The rice noodles in this are fresh and only require refreshment in boiling water despite what the instructions say. I’m constantly surprised at the quality of them because the sauces, fermented chilli, pickles (beware, the pickled bamboo is very pungent) and crispy chickpeas probably make this my favourite instant noodles of the bunch because they don't taste like instant noodles at all. The only downside for me is the excessive packaging.

Prima Singapore laksa la mian

This is the most premium of the bunch, with single packets going for about $5 (*gasp*). The thing that sets these wheat noodles apart is they’re not deep-fried like regular ramen and the texture of the noodle doesn’t taste like a rehydrated sponge. There’s also nothing artificial in the flavour sachets, it’s exceptionally prawny and the coconut cream that thickens the soup is freeze-dried. For when you’re feeling rich.

Indomie mi goreng

Did you think I’d forget this guy? This little packet probably got every single MacRob chick through year 12. I’m convinced we used these packets as currency. I’m sure we all have that one weird friend who prefers to eat this noodle as a soup.

What I’m reading:
Trevor Jay Wilson’s ebook on bread. Again. It’s 384 pages of absolute nerdery on bread making with no recipes. You’re gonna have to be really into it.

What I’m listening to:
Róisín Murphy’s just released a new album. Stick it in your ear holes.

What I’m eating:
Clearly, a packet of instant noodles (but can you guess which one?), endless radicchio from the balcony garden, fish heads smothered in pickled and fermented chilli, mountains of steamed rice, anchovy doughnuts from Denton Wine Bar (Kieran was kind enough to give me a container of the batter to fry at home).

What I’m loving:
The God of Cookery using Cantonese food as a political statement.

If you’re as passionate as I am about instant noodles, why don’t you tell someone about it?

Want to know what other stupid shit I’ll write about next week?