Noodles: Keep it in the Family

March, 2010

Even for a globally recognised foodie, there is nothing that can take the place of handmade food infused with the love and wisdom of the ages, as Cheong Liew explains with Elizabeth Ho.

I remember my Grandma’s thick black rolling pin made of hardwood, six foot in length and two inches wide. It was a formidable tool. Her large round marble table doubled as a dining and noodle-making table. I used to watch her intently. She was over sixty and she appeared to me to be a kind of Noodle Warrior, in severe black Chinese peasant garb, sleeves rolled back, concentrating wholly on her noodles. I remain fascinated by her quest to make the best egg noodles for her family, and for anyone who happened to turn up. In our case, that could mean 30 or more folk. We would gather round, using our childish hands to incorporate the flour and egg, all together in a family huddle. There is no necessity to make noodles now, as they can be bought freshly made, but they are not the same. The difference is that the homemade recipe makes generous use of eggs and the bought noodle recipe overuses lye water. Most important are the duck eggs, as they give that firm, yet slippery surface texture. I understand too that a small amount of lye water is essential in making the best egg noodles as it ensures an al dente texture. However, too much lye water and fewer eggs will mean a crunchy, dry, rough noodle surface.

Grandma used 5kg of strong flour, 50 whole duck eggs, 1 tablespoon of lye water, 1 tablespoon salt, ½ bowl of cooking oil and up to a bowl of water, if necessary, for her throng.

Making a well in the centre of the flour, she would add her eggs, oil, and lye water. Slowly mixing in eggs with the flour she would enter a rhythm, using her whole body to knead the dough, first by hand, and then using her mammoth rolling pin. Using both hands she would roll out a long dough, then fold the dough left then right to the centre and roll out again. She would sometimes beat it and repeat this folding several times until she could see that her dough was shining and dry. Then she would cut it into two portions, cover it with a damp cloth and let it rest for an hour or more.

Using cornstarch, she would lightly dust her marble top table and her rolling pin and roll out one portion of dough as thinly as possible, completely covering the table. This was the moment when the long rolling pin took centre stage. She would then fold the noodle into 8-inch wide tiers, dusting each layer with cornstarch to prevent them from sticking to each other, and they were then ready for the knife. After cutting the noodles into fine threads she would make them into individual serves. She would prepare the other dough with a wider cut and twist it to resemble chicken intestines – hence the name "chicken intestine noodles"– for those who preferred a more generous width.

Of course the stock had to be good. She added pork chine bones, blanched and refreshed in cold water, to her stockpot and as we had a poultry farm, shredded chicken noodles were the standard. Several of the large young chickens were poached in the stock, cooled, and then their meat shredded to go with the noodles. The bones were returned to the stock to enrich it. Young chicken stock has a more aromatic flavour. To obtain a very clear stock, don’t let it come to even a ripple. It needs to be very still, and give it at least 4 hours’ cooking time. Only when the stock is ready can you skim the fatty oil from the top, as this gives it the special flavour. Fried shallot chips with freshly sliced aromatic spring onions make an excellent side garnish.

Blanch each portion of noodles in a wok of hot water and then dunk them into a basin of cold water to refresh. Shake off the excess water. Place them in a serving bowl and add a teaspoon of soy, a pinch of ground white pepper and few drops of sesame oil. Pile a generous serving of shredded poached chicken over the noodles, then ladle over a generous amount of hot stock to warm up the chicken and noodles. Return the stock from the bowl back to the pot and repeat the ladling of fresh hot stock over the noodles, then garnish with fried shallot chips, finely chopped spring onions and more white pepper. You have to eat them immediately to enjoy the freshness. Soggy noodles are to be avoided! Eating home-made noodles will make you grin with joy and the effort makes for a memorable family noodle experience.

Whenever I travel back to KL, Hong Kong or Guangzhou, I always search for the best handmade wonton noodles. Recently the coveted Michelin guide gave one star to a wonton noodle shop in Hong Kong, so there is intercultural respect being shown for this ancient art. It is the firm, slippery, silky, surface texture of the noodles and the wonton skins, together with a pristine clean, clear stock that lie at the heart of this art.

For Adelaide I go for Wah Hing on Gouger St for the best prawn wonton dumpling soup. To my delight, I also recently discovered Cam Wah on Kilkenny Rd, Kilkenny where I savoured the Vietnamese version of master stock duck noodles, and I recommend them highly. You will be savouring decades of generational family experience among the Vietnamese noodle makers. Do ask for their home made yau teow pastry to accompany your master stock duck noodle soup and enter a new heaven.

But remember that the very best noodles are those you make yourself – just like Grandma’s.