The Dao of fried noodles

Now I understand why so many daoist sages, zen masters, and expert martial artists are cooks.

Today being Vesak Day, I spent the morning helping out in the kitchen of one of the temples here in Singapore. After worshippers come to pray, usually in family groups, the temple provides them with free food – so volunteers are needed to cook!

My role is to be part of the team preparing the fried noodles that are the core of the meal. For this, we work with iron woks about three feet across, and almost a foot deep, which are sunk into the stove worktop. These are heated by very, very large gas burners. Several ladefuls of oil, and a bowl of sauce base are put into the wok, followed by quite a lot of water. This rapidly forms a superheated napalm-like liquid, into which basketfulls of dried rice noodles are thrown, along with bean sprouts. We use a spatula and a pair of cooking chopsticks to keep the noodles turning as they cook.

At first, we have to mix them, so that the noodles are evenly coated in the sauce, and the bean sprouts don’t stay bunched up. In this first stage, the liquid provides lubrication, so it’s relatively easy to turn the noodles. However, we quickly get to a dangerous interim stage where the noodles are getting heavy, but there is still a lot of liquid sloshing around at the bottom of the wok. Letting the noodles fall heavily can send a jet of superhot and sticky liquid flying at random angles out of the wok. I got one such jet in the face, but managed to get it off before it did any damage.

Once the liquid has all been absorbed, the main flame is turned off, and smaller burners keep the wok hot as we still turn the noodles. Once steam starts rising, the remaining heat goes off, and the noodles are lifted out into a large pot brought by other team members. In this stage, the noodles will stick to the wok and burn if they’re left still for more than an instant, so the whole mass has to be kept in constant motion.

This is all very hard work. As soon as the noodles start to absorb liquid, they become a very heavy dead weight, and it’s really tough to lift and turn them. Some people do it with the cooking chopsticks, using muscular power. I simply don’t have the strength to do this. Instead, I find I’m using the principles of the internal arts: sink the weight, turn the body from the waist to generate power, and transmit this through the arms and into the spatula in a circular motion. This gets the noodles turning easily, without needing powerful arms.

For anyone cooking with an industrial wok, the heat is intense. You feel it rising into your face from the wok; the gas fire sends it to your abdomen and thighs. You can’t escape it or ignore it; you can only detach from it so that it doesn’t distract you. Sweat will be constantly running into your eyes, down your back, down your legs… dehydration comes quickly. Generally we find that we can endure the heat for three wokfuls, and then have to take a rest to cool down, drink water, and recover our strength.

Cooking noodles isn’t an intellectual task; it’s not complicated. On the other hand, it has to be done right. You can’t send out noodles that are too soggy; nor can you let them burn. You have to pay attention, and do the job properly, without frills or distractions.

I’m learning a great deal from the way of the noodle.

On Monday and Tuesday, I attended dharma talks organised by the Kwan Yin Chan Lin Korean Zen Centre. The talks were given by Zen Master Dae Kwang. I attended one of his talks last year, and was glad of the opportunity to hear him again. Their next Zen meditation class begins in September; I must try to organise my time so that I can participate in this one.