Sometimes you just need to be left alone to enjoy a bowl of spicy noodles.
I find myself saying that out loud quite a bit, so I must only conclude that it is indeed profound and deeply meaningful enough to share. Food has been a form of therapy for me lately, as it tends to be for many people out there. No, I’m not talking about overeating 10 packs of Buldak in a single giant bowl like a mukbanger, or eating myself to literal flying chunks for some TikTok challenge, or eating to hide my inner turmoil flavored with tears. I’m talking about a simple 10 minute break every other day where I take the time to boil some water, add some noodles, sprinkle some seasoning, toss in way too much spicy stuff, and sit to enjoy them – alone.
It slows me down for those minutes, waiting for the water to boil, then waiting for the noodles to cook. And waiting for them to cool down so the roof of my mouth doesn’t get melted off. All part of the ritual. Standing next to the stove patiently, or watching the microwave spin, even waiting for the kettle to chime. Pouring the water, covering the cup, straining the noodles, emptying the packets. That first bite where you realize it’s still too hot, followed by the waiting, and blowing, and waiting. Finally slurping your sodium and delicious MSG infused creation. My mind is clear. I am invincible in this moment.
This has become a ritual to me, like how others find time to meditate or pray, figure out how to bullet journal for more than 2 days straight, make tea or pour-over coffee, or whatever else you can imagine. I’m not eating for the calories, because I definitely don’t need those. I’m not eating due to hunger or even boredom (usually). Not for some social activity, or because I think it’ll make me look dope to my weird ass friends when I can show off that I know finally how to eat noodles with chopsticks! I’m not practicing anything here. I’m enjoying the ritual.
No YouTube, no podcasts, no music, not even just a few doom scrolls – just some simmering noodles and wooden chopsticks. Or maybe a fork, spoon, soup ladle. Sometimes there’s broth involved, and little pieces my chopstick skills aren’t quite up to grabbing – I didn’t say I was an expert. What matters is the ritual. I’ll bet you and everyone you know has some activity that resembles this pretty closely.
And if you don’t have something in your life that sounds like this, I’d recommend every now and then try hiding for a few minutes and enjoying a nice bowl of spicy noodles.
The sound of the simmering water, the scraping of the chopsticks as the noodles swirl, the biggest bite that has every ingredient in it, the warming in the tum tum. That perfect slurp - ah, bliss.