Mention the words “noodle house” and I start slobbering. There’s nothing quite like the anticipatory pleasure of staring into a bowl of squiggly starch: the digging in, the reckless abandon of slurping, the tail end of udon, lo mein or linguini lashing a cheek, the deep satisfaction of corralling unruly sustenance.
In a world increasingly dumbstruck by lux, bedazzled by gold-flaked nigiri and studied plates blanketed in a haze of dry-ice smoke, noodles remain wonderfully anomalous — simple, cheap and ever-popular; enjoyed for thousands of years. Our timeless, universal love of noodles goes beyond the sensory and ritual; there’s science to it. Studies show eating them can stimulate endorphins and serotonin — can literally create happiness. And restaurants dedicated to food that makes you happy? My type of Zoloft.