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Best noodle joints not so obvious
By Yao Minji |
July 2, 2009, Thursday
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HANGZHOU'S greatest noodle shops have carved out an envious reputation that is based on taste, not the decor or smart waiters. Yao Minji starts a series on the Top 10 spots. One rainy night, an unknown young man who had just finished years of martial arts study in the mountains, stepped randomly into a small, nondescript and dusty noodle shop.
Drawing on the natural instincts he honed during his study, he sensed that the place was different.
It displayed no sign or logo, except for a small, oily flag with the carelessly written character mian, meaning noodle, hanging outside. The waiters were arrogant. The tables and chairs were dusty. The kitchen looked nasty and the owner seemed weird.
However, for such a strange place it was crowded with people so late at night. A glance around the place only made him more confused.
Many of the customers jammed into the small shop were wearing expensive silk clothes, and some expensive horses and carriages waited on the roadside - there was no place for horses or carriages outside the small eatery.
A local customer told the young man, "Don't look down on this eatery because it's tiny and cheap. It is loved by all these rich and powerful people. Some even ride for days to eat a bowl of noodles here."
The young man left with lots of questions - the noodles were great, but they were just noodles. Why were customers so fond of this place?
Why hadn't the shop owner moved to some better and more luxurious place since he must have earned a lot from these people?
It took him years to answer the questions, long after he had become a martial arts master himself. And it all came down to a familiarity he found that was difficult to put into words.
It was the only place where he didn't have to worry about his manners, attitude, wording, style, clothing, or anything because everyone in this shop, poor or rich, officials or beggars, was just a customer waiting for a cheap bowl of noodles.
Described above is a common scene from Chinese martial arts movies or novels, so common it is difficult to find who created it in the first place.
And in Hangzhou, the scene becomes reality, except that the expensive Mongolian or Russian horses become luxurious Mercedes or Ferraris in this city.
The royal families of the Southern Song Dynasty (960-1279) made Hangzhou the capital after they retreated from the north in 1127, turning it into one of the very few dynastic capitals in the south.
The decision also made it a city famous for noodles.
Over the years, noodles have become a signature of Hangzhou, and the city is filled with all kinds of eateries, many with a history of more than 100 years.
There are many expensive ones, nicely decorated and with five waiters serving each table, but many locals say the real taste of Hangzhou noodles are hidden behind those inconspicuous, dusty ones, just like in the scene described at the start.
Each has its own specialty and a legend behind it.
These tiny eateries prove that when somebody does something for years, no matter how unnoticeable and tiny it is, the place becomes a legend.
And Shanghai Daily has picked 10 such legends for your pleasure, starting with two today.
Ju Ying Noodle
For martial arts film directors, this might be one of the best spots to shoot a scene such as described at the start.
The door and the sign are so old and unnoticeable, but nobody will miss it because people are always lined up outside, from 5am to 2pm. The owner never opens after 2pm.
Ju means daisy and ying means brave. They doesn't mean anything together, but a rather common name for women.
Nobody knows why the noodle eatery is so named although many guess it might be a name significant to the owner, a middle-aged man who helps out in the eatery all the time and often gets confused as a waiter.
The owner, like his eatery, is also a mysterious legend.
With such a good business, he shuts the door at 2pm every day and closes it for two months in the summer and one month during spring break.
When some of the regular customers ask why, he always says, "everybody needs to rest, you can't make money all the time."
Many people drive their BMWs or Mercedes for hours to fight for the few spaces on the road outside the eatery and wait for an hour for just a bowl of noodles.
They might manage hundreds of staff in their companies and have a luxuriously decorated huge office, but they are willing to sit with strangers on one of the six old tables in the restaurant.
The specialty of Ju Ying is simple: Pian'er Chuan noodles, considered the real local favorite in Hangzhou.
Pian'er means thin slices of meat and chuan is the cooking method - putting food briefly in boiling water and removing it.
Many returning customers will also add a fried egg and some mushroom to their dish.
Address: 11 Zhonghe Road S.
Mian Guan
The second selection is simply called Mian Guan, or Noodle Eatery.
Many Hangzhou locals say you just go to Daxue Road and look for the smallest and dirtiest one.
The legend of Mian Guan is its owner, a middle-aged woman who always stir fries pig's liver.
The specialty is noodles with stir-fried pig's liver. The owner is not afraid of having the recipe stolen, as she fries them right outside the door every day.
Yet, nobody knows what she puts inside the dish or how she fries it to make the liver neither too tender with blood nor over-fried.
The owner has become a legend because she never looks at customers and never confirms what you order, yet it has never been wrong.
Address: 53 Daxue Road
Drawing on the natural instincts he honed during his study, he sensed that the place was different.
It displayed no sign or logo, except for a small, oily flag with the carelessly written character mian, meaning noodle, hanging outside. The waiters were arrogant. The tables and chairs were dusty. The kitchen looked nasty and the owner seemed weird.
However, for such a strange place it was crowded with people so late at night. A glance around the place only made him more confused.
Many of the customers jammed into the small shop were wearing expensive silk clothes, and some expensive horses and carriages waited on the roadside - there was no place for horses or carriages outside the small eatery.
A local customer told the young man, "Don't look down on this eatery because it's tiny and cheap. It is loved by all these rich and powerful people. Some even ride for days to eat a bowl of noodles here."
The young man left with lots of questions - the noodles were great, but they were just noodles. Why were customers so fond of this place?
Why hadn't the shop owner moved to some better and more luxurious place since he must have earned a lot from these people?
It took him years to answer the questions, long after he had become a martial arts master himself. And it all came down to a familiarity he found that was difficult to put into words.
It was the only place where he didn't have to worry about his manners, attitude, wording, style, clothing, or anything because everyone in this shop, poor or rich, officials or beggars, was just a customer waiting for a cheap bowl of noodles.
Described above is a common scene from Chinese martial arts movies or novels, so common it is difficult to find who created it in the first place.
And in Hangzhou, the scene becomes reality, except that the expensive Mongolian or Russian horses become luxurious Mercedes or Ferraris in this city.
The royal families of the Southern Song Dynasty (960-1279) made Hangzhou the capital after they retreated from the north in 1127, turning it into one of the very few dynastic capitals in the south.
The decision also made it a city famous for noodles.
Over the years, noodles have become a signature of Hangzhou, and the city is filled with all kinds of eateries, many with a history of more than 100 years.
There are many expensive ones, nicely decorated and with five waiters serving each table, but many locals say the real taste of Hangzhou noodles are hidden behind those inconspicuous, dusty ones, just like in the scene described at the start.
Each has its own specialty and a legend behind it.
These tiny eateries prove that when somebody does something for years, no matter how unnoticeable and tiny it is, the place becomes a legend.
And Shanghai Daily has picked 10 such legends for your pleasure, starting with two today.
Ju Ying Noodle
For martial arts film directors, this might be one of the best spots to shoot a scene such as described at the start.
The door and the sign are so old and unnoticeable, but nobody will miss it because people are always lined up outside, from 5am to 2pm. The owner never opens after 2pm.
Ju means daisy and ying means brave. They doesn't mean anything together, but a rather common name for women.
Nobody knows why the noodle eatery is so named although many guess it might be a name significant to the owner, a middle-aged man who helps out in the eatery all the time and often gets confused as a waiter.
The owner, like his eatery, is also a mysterious legend.
With such a good business, he shuts the door at 2pm every day and closes it for two months in the summer and one month during spring break.
When some of the regular customers ask why, he always says, "everybody needs to rest, you can't make money all the time."
Many people drive their BMWs or Mercedes for hours to fight for the few spaces on the road outside the eatery and wait for an hour for just a bowl of noodles.
They might manage hundreds of staff in their companies and have a luxuriously decorated huge office, but they are willing to sit with strangers on one of the six old tables in the restaurant.
The specialty of Ju Ying is simple: Pian'er Chuan noodles, considered the real local favorite in Hangzhou.
Pian'er means thin slices of meat and chuan is the cooking method - putting food briefly in boiling water and removing it.
Many returning customers will also add a fried egg and some mushroom to their dish.
Address: 11 Zhonghe Road S.
Mian Guan
The second selection is simply called Mian Guan, or Noodle Eatery.
Many Hangzhou locals say you just go to Daxue Road and look for the smallest and dirtiest one.
The legend of Mian Guan is its owner, a middle-aged woman who always stir fries pig's liver.
The specialty is noodles with stir-fried pig's liver. The owner is not afraid of having the recipe stolen, as she fries them right outside the door every day.
Yet, nobody knows what she puts inside the dish or how she fries it to make the liver neither too tender with blood nor over-fried.
The owner has become a legend because she never looks at customers and never confirms what you order, yet it has never been wrong.
Address: 53 Daxue Road
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