There are two kinds of hurricanes: the one that is raging up the east coast of the United States right now and the one that is my own personal hurricane created by another (number three!) disorganized move this past week. Regardless of their differences, both kinds of hurricanes require that one be fed despite the lack of the usual kitchen conveniences, preferably something hot and delicious that soothes the soul as well as fills the belly. These are desperate times and desperate times call for desperate measures. At least that's what I muttered to myself as I reached for the Instant Noodle Bowl Supper last night.
I'm not sure how the INBS came into my possession but there it was, calling out to me, promising to be quick, hot, and filling. Sustenance. Belly timber. The label said it was Smoky Teriyaki, which sounded kind of good at 10 PM after a long day of hauling the bulk of my personal belongings across town.
The packaging was designed for the microwave and consisted of a large plastic bowl with a plastic lid. It was stuffed full of several plastic packets, each holding a component of my supper: noodles, sauce, dried veg and a cute little pack of sesame seeds. Truth be told, the plastic bowl was kind of creepy so I tossed it and rummaged around until I found an old, very pretty copper pan. Somehow this made me feel a little better.
I dumped everything except the sesame seeds into the pot, splashed in a little water and coaxed on the heat. The old stove was new to me and it needed a little sensitive maneuvering to catch a flame, kind of like working the clutch of a temperamental sports car. But eventually it took, and a reassuring flame was blazing in my hearth.
Now that supper was imminent, I could relax a little and enjoy the moment. A glass of wine in hand, I peered into the pot and noticed that the fat squiggly noodles looked kind of appealing, all plump and coated with their Smoky Teriyaki. Even the dehydrated vegetables became less sinister as they soaked up the water and took on shape.
To be honest, I had pictured this first meal in my new life to be a little more refined. Something along the lines of thickly sliced garden tomatoes and a hunk of brick oven baked bread and a little wedge goat cheese, with grass green olive oil and crunchy flaked salt sprinkled over. Maybe a few anchovies or some sticky, smoky pate. (How obvious is it that I live in Berkeley now?) But INBS was the meal that arrived instead and if I've learned anything in this life, it's to make the most of what's right in front of you. Sometimes there are hidden gems lurking in the most unlikely of places.
I managed to locate a plate and fork so I dumped the noodles out and sprinkled on the sesame seeds which added a touch of sophistication and visual texture. (Or so I told myself.) Still standing there in the kitchen, I twirled and slurped up a big forkful of noodles, which were perfectly cooked and chewy. The rehydrated vegetables were chewy, too, which wasn't exactly what I would have wanted but hey, I was in this for the long haul now and those veg were just fine!
Actually, it wasn't half bad, this strange dish born of plastic and desperation. Certainly not something I'd eat every day or perhaps ever again, but I'll not complain or hold it in judgement. It was hot and savory and absolutely lived up to its promise to fill and sustain me. The sesame seeds popped in my mouth as I continued to chew and I found myself smiling, a little ping of happiness and reassurance that on this most discombobulating of days I had found sustenance, worthy of appreciation and gratitude, and it glowed and sparkled as much as any precious jewel.
How about those of you living in that first kind of hurricane? What kind of belly timber is sustaining you today? Is it worthy of praise and gratitude?
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I appreciate first your intimacy, but also your refusal to fall into judgement about what's right there in front of you. I find myself trapped in that judgement so often. To witness someone coming close but refusing to go there is very helpful. Thank you again!
Instant noodles were staple of my childhood. Rather than turning to the blue box mac and cheese, I begged my parents for "egg noodle soup" - instant ramen egg drop soup.
If there had been ramen here last night, I would have made instant noodles. too.
Your Sunday posts are such delicious little morsels of wisdom. Thank you so much. Good luck with your new place. Welcome home again.
I'm in upper upper Manhattan near Ft. Tryon Park. The storm's mostly blown through and thankfully wasn't as bad as predicted. The clouds are starting to break and the birds have started to sing again. The city is still magically quiet.
For lunch I made a fresh tomato tart in a parmesan crust and a fresh salad for me and my houseguests, who evacuated themselves from downtown yesterday, tomatoes in hand.
I luv ur Sunday posts
Kit, would you share the tart recipe? Sounds lovely =)
@echo927: It's nothing fancy - we kind of winged it. Happy to share.
The crust was 1/4 cup each AP and whole wheat flour, a cup of grated parmesan, 1/4 cup of very cold butter cut into little pieces. Cut it all together with about a tablespoon of ice water until the dough sticks together. Press it into little tart pans (5-1/2 inches), put them in the fridge for about 20 minutes to set. Prick the dough with a fork and pop them in a 350-degree oven for about 20 minutes or until the shells start to brown. You could probably use other hard cheeses (Romano, asiago) too.
In the meantime, chop two pints of cherry tomatoes in half, sprinkle them with a little salt and sugar and let them sweat out some liquid.
When the tart shells come out of the oven, toss the tomatoes with a little chopped basil and a splash of good olive oil and spoon it into the hot shells.
This made three individual tarts. If you double the quantities, you can make a 9-1/2 inch tart. It'd be really pretty if you had tomatoes of many colors.
What a lovely post!
My equivalent of the INBS is the BPOR (Big Pot O' Rice). I caramelize an onion and some carrots in my rice cooker, add brown rice, veggie broth, and a generous dash of Moroccan spices. A half hour later, I stir in raisins and uncooked chopped chicken. A half hour or so later (the pot tells me when, plus my home smells delicious) I have a hot and comforting meal that took under 10 minutes to prep. Great for those days when I'm putting in 10+ hours of work (I work from home).