If there is one Chinese dish that sends me into tailspin of nostalgia for my time in China then it is niúròu miàn (牛肉面), or beef noodles.
I have so many memories attached to this one simple dish, and it seems to be something that I have eaten all over China. Niúròu miàn was one of the first dishes that I could spot on a menu, and it very quickly became my fail-safe option when eating out. Even when I came back to the UK, my first mission for finding the real Chinese food was hunting down an authentic bowl of niúròu miàn, which I did find! Even if the prices made me want to cry - on New Years Eve I paid £7 for a bowl of niúròu miàn, compare that to the 70p bowls in China and you'll see why I was horrified. But you'll also notice that I did pay my £7, however grudgingly, because niúròu miàn is really that good! I hope that in this love letter to a bowl of noodles I can show you why.
Read to the end for my favourite niúròu miàn restaurant in London.
When you order niúròu miàn you know what you are going to get: chewy noodles, delicious savoury and salty broth, some slices of meat, and something green. There may be variations; the noodles may get thicker or thinner, the meat slices may sometimes turn into chunks, the greens may switch between sliced spring onion or maybe bokchoi; but I can always guarantee that it would be delicious.
Douse it in the unique chinkiang vinegar and you have the perfect meal for any situation.
Somehow this very simple dish became intrinsically linked to my time in China. If I think about niúròu miàn, the memories of eating it are attached to memories all throughout the country.
I can remember, in the very early days in Suzhou, finding a noodle place in my local area and managing to order a bowl of steaming hot noodles for the first time. Sitting there with my noodles, I slurped away thinking that China might not be that bad after all. At this point my noodles were often plain and without the vinegar that I love so much. It turns out that the Chinese word for vinegar, 醋 cù, is (in my opinion) one of the hardest words to say; and at that early stage I really struggled to get anyone to understand what I was asking for when I tried to say cù!
The first few weeks in Suzhou were tough, being thrown in at the deep end would be putting it lightly, but managing to order something, and then having what you were expecting turn up at the table, was a major victory and the first of many steps towards my love affair with China.
Niúròu miàn also holds vivid memories of my first solo trip in China. I was going to Chengdu and in the airport I bought a bowl of niúròu miàn before the flight. It wasn't the best bowl of noodles I've ever had, in fact it probably goes onto the list as one of the worst, but it was the start of a little adventure on my own. An adventure that started with me taking 500元 out of the cash machine in fake notes, expect I didn't realise until the taxi driver in Chengdu was laughing in my face. What an adventure.
Then there are the many, many nights that ended with a bowl of niúròu miàn. Nights that we spent being given free sticks of tequila shots at Youth Bar (nothing to do with Youth, just a weird bar name) in Yinchuan, and then stumbled to the closest noddle shop. Swaying as the store āyí takes the order, which is made in slurred and disjointed Chinese. Finally sitting down and pouring (probably too much) vinegar into the bowl and smelling the meaty, vinegary, savoury steam as it hits you in the face. Slurping the noddles up and not caring that the broth is splattering all over the table, your face, and your clothes. One of my coats is actually ruined from the many noodle splashes over many visits for post-midnight noodles.
But apart from all these memories, my strongest memories are when I went to eat lunch with my ex, Orion's, mum. Orion's mum is the nicest lady and she was so so kind to me in China. When I was sick, she would bring me soup and medicine. She would always save the best bits of a meal for me. In the winter she bought me a huge puffy coat because by British coat wasn't cutting it in minus 15 degree Yinchuan cold.
Occasionally she would turn up at Orion's house while he was at work and suggest that we go for lunch, and of course I could never refuse.
So off we'd go to the local noodle shop and the subtle dance of one English speaker who can't speak Chinese, and one Chinese speaker who can't speak English began. It's not easy making small talk with your in-laws when you all speak the same language, so when no one speaks the same language it's an especially interesting lunch-time chat. Eating with Orion's mum, the conversation would usually go something like this:
Me: 我要牛肉面 (Beef Noodles)
[Orion's mum would then field all the many questions from the locals that, yes, I was a foreigner. And, yes, I was left-handed. And, yes, it was interesting having a white daughter-in-law! While I sat quietly, smiling and trying to understand as much of what is being said as possible.]
[Then the noodles arrive]
Orion's mum: 吃吃吃 (Eat up!)
Me: mmm...好吃！(mmm...yummy!)
Orion's mum: 你喜欢吗？(Do you like it?)
Me: 我喜欢 (I like it)
It's not the best conversation but it was pretty much all we could manage, and to be honest I was just glad that she was making the effort. Plus, is there any better way to bond over a delicious bowl of niúròu miàn?!
It is pretty impressive that one very simple dish can give rise to so many memories, and I think it just speaks to how classic niúròu miàn really is. You'll notice that there are no pictures in this post - except for my splendid noodle GIF, which took about 2 days to figure out how to create. That is because I don't have any photos of, or with, niúròu miàn in China. This is kind of sad, but really it makes sense. Do you think to capture the moment when you eat a sandwich? Probably not. It's such a basic meal and is so ingrained in daily life that you wouldn't even think about documenting it; but you can be sure that the next time I eat niúròu miàn I will be taking a loving photo.
WHERE TO EAT NIÚRÒU MIÀN IN LONDON: My favourite noodle spot in London is 100% Lanzhou Noodles by Leicester Square tube station. The restaurant looks like a trashy tourist restaurant with fluorescent sweet and sour at the buffet in the window; but look just behind the rubbish food and you’ll spot a chef hand pulling noodles – that is how you know it’s the good stuff. This place is open late, which means niúròu miàn is almost a 24 hour option.
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