Yummy NooOoOooodLes...

• a search on Google for the noodle shop near my place where I've been on episodes of addictions with came up with this article on the Stanford Daily, which is also posted below for your instant enjoyment. ^_^
• another article from the Wave magazine, our local free publication on what's going on around the town sort of thing.
• these are the results of a search for "noodle houses" near my zipcode.
• next, I want to try out this place, I don't think I've been there before: RamenRama

Noodles on Tap
Luu Noodle: 520 Showers Dr., Mountain View; (650) 947-8888
By Shelby Martin, Friday, January 13, 2006

It has not been a good day for my belongings. I started out the day with two earrings and by noon only had one. I’m not certain when I lost it, and this concerns me. Earlier, I had a meeting with a biology prof. to discuss research opportunities. When I spoke with her, did I have an earring in each ear or not? The question haunts me.

This evening, I’m off to drown my sorrows in won ton soup with Adam. As I’m biking to meet him, my phone rings and I drop my new glove in my haste to answer it. The black glove falls into the black night, never to be found again. It was worth approximately 50 cents, but I had owned it for less than two hours and I was irked.

Adam gets the full story of my missing possessions.

“I feel like I’ve lost one of everything I had two of,” I complain. “I’m concerned about losing my limbs.”

We drive to San Antonio shopping center, home of Luu Noodle. This Chinese eatery has seven locations, but five are (inexplicably) called New Tung Kee noodles.

Luu Noodle is speedy and efficient, a veritable assembly line of Chinese cuisine. Five servers are there while we’re eating, but it feels like there’s more because they seem to be everywhere at once.

Our food arrives within three minutes — no joke. I think their kitchen must dispense food like soda fountains dispense drinks. Push a lever, you get chow mein with tofu. Chinese food on tap.

I am eating vermicelli duck curry soup and Adam is eating crispy fried noodles. The noodles have a tendency to shatter and fly everywhere when he tries to take a bite.

“Sorry if I blind you with a noodle,” he says. I become very worried. Today has proved dangerous for things that come in pairs.

Luckily, I hold on to both eyes and use them to scope out the room. The restaurant feels like a cafeteria — “168 persons” reads the occupancy capacity sign. But the tables are lacking nothing — a bucket of chopsticks, a bucket of forks, sauces, napkins. Luu Noodle is a well-oiled machine. On the walls are large pictures of every menu item, numbered for ease of ordering. The restaurant has all your Chinese staples — noodles, chow mein, soups, rice plates — with pad thai thrown in for good measure.

I’m drinking Thai iced tea, which costs 55 cents more if you order it without ice. “Aha,” Adam says. “They know just who’s eating here — people trying to get every penny.”

A few drinks on the menu pique our interest; “Fresh young coconut” is one. Perhaps the name lost something in the translation.

The other perplexing beverage is “Three course of beans drink,” available in pink and green. What could conceivably be in that? What makes it pink or green? I vow to order it next time.

Adam notices something: “Luu Noodle doesn’t follow the Chinese Restaurant Naming Algorithm.”

“What is the algorithm?” I ask, bemused.

“I figured out that all you need to do to name a Chinese restaurant is choose one of three adjectives. The adjectives are: golden, lucky or happy.”

Adam is beaming as he continues to spell out the formula: “You follow the adjective with one of three nouns. The nouns are: garden, dragon or lion. There are exactly nine Chinese restaurant names. This is the tenth: Luu Noodle.”

I want to end this article by talking about the philosophical importance of Luu Noodle. I’m certain it’s emblematic of postmodernism, or a microcosm of the American experience, or something. I ponder this aloud on the car ride back to Stanford.

“Why are you so hung up on this?” Adam asks.

I suppose he’s right. Sometimes a noodle is just a noodle. And if that noodle is a Luu noodle, it’s a good one.

The verdict:
Quick, tasty, cheap. I expect to become a regular here in my Stanford career.

Article URL: http://www.stanforddaily.com/tempo?page=content&repository=0001_article&id=18919