Nobody Reads This Page – “Novelty Noodles”

 

c. 2023 Rod Ice

All rights reserved

(1-24)

 

 

Christmas at the Icehouse was a festive experience, dulled slightly by seasonal afflictions and a furnace problem. I ended up out-of-commission on the holiday, and also chilly at home with no heat on tap. The banquet laid out was impressive enough, but because of unexpected intestinal woes, I could not partake.

 

After our Yuletide celebrations had finished, I went to work on recovering, and finding expert repair for my home issue. My cramped, Miller HVAC unit was easy enough to put right, with a new igniter installed. And after about four days, I finally began to feel human again. But while dabbling over projects on the computer, I remembered that one of my nephews had given me a Walmart gift card inside of a holiday envelope. A first thought to pass this plastic wafer to others in the brood who were more in need was swatted down by my sibling, ‘Mama Chub.’ She played the role of a concerned sister with great skill.

 

“Use it for yourself! Quit being so noble!

 

Because of my physical disabilities, I rarely shop at larger stores. In particular, almost never at Walmart. I have found that visits to this megacenter have to happen very early in the business day. Otherwise, the availability of handicapped parking spaces and Amigo electric carts is far from guaranteed. I can’t abide the struggle of pushing a regular shopping buggy around such a huge retail location. It just doesn’t work.

 

But my younger kin chirped advice when I offered this complaint as a caveat.

 

“Free shipping on orders over $35.00! Have a look at their website, brother!”

 

Hunger had become an unconscious force as I limped through days with no coffee or solid food. Eventually, I found myself bundled up in layers of blankets and comforters, while dreaming about meals. In particular, about making Ramen noodles. A guilty pleasure that has never ceased to titillate my taste buds.

 

With my gastronomic desires on the rise once more, I sat at the household computer and managed to rediscover a cyberspace account, long neglected. I began to search for varieties of this popular, Oriental staple with renewed vigor. At first, common flavors vended by Nissin and Maruchan popped up in the results. But then, I scrolled forward to find a wealth of more sophisticated varieties. Like those I had bought at the Wegmans in Erie, Pennsylvania, in yonder days. Being wildly peckish with a head full of buffet dreams and an empty belly, I suddenly found myself with no inhibitions in effect. I needed some sort of guardrails to keep me from going off the cliff, into a steaming wok full of squiggly delights. Yet nothing hindered my cravings or made me act responsibly. I had completely spun out of control on the information superhighway. My guts grumbled with need as I reclined in the home-office chair.

 

“Gimmie food! I need food right now!”

 

I ended up spending the full amount on Ramen. An investment not really wasted by any means, but certainly one that might have been better considered, beforehand. Each selection was a multipack. I figured that taken together, these rations would stock up my cupboards for the winter months.

 

Buldak – Cream Carbonara Spicy Chicken Noodle Soup. (Samyang, South Korea)

 

Nongshim – Gourmet Spicy Shin Ramen, Chunky Vegetables, Savory & Rich

 

Nongshim – Kimchi Ramyun, a Symbolic Dish of Korea

 

Maggi – Kari Curry Flavor Masala Noodles, Spicy Chili Soup

 

Sapporo Ichiban – Miso Ramen

 

Sapporo Ichiban – Chow Mein with Dried Seaweed Leaves

 

Sapporo Ichiban – Miso Ramen, Japanese Style Noodles

 

Neighbors in my rural neighborhood were somewhat suspicious when considering this shopping spree. Weren’t Ramen noodles considered to be jailhouse currency? Their value in the kitchen seemed questionable. My choices caused eyes to roll and shoulders to shrug. But long-distance compatriots in New York had a more metropolitan outlook on what I had done. They figured it would broaden my dietary horizons from the bland fare of meat-and-potatoes ubiquity. Though most of these contrarian allies reckoned that I should be consuming such Asian treats with a pair of chopsticks, to add an air of cultural authenticity.

 

That kind of obsessive tilt made me shy away, just a bit. But upon breaking out my carbon-steel cooker, and firing up a first batch of noodles, fried pork, and fresh vegetables, I felt on-target. After filling a bowl with this concoction, I sat in front of my television and wolfed down the colorful mess with abandon. My insides did not care about being sensitive to ancient customs.

 

I just wanted to eat!

 

The Buldak Carbonara was my primal leap into this better tier of Ramen. It provided a full flavor, well worth trying. Though I figured some of the other, hotter versions on their menu list would have been more satisfying. My slurping and sipping made noises akin to what I had seen in YouTube videos from China, Korea, and Japan. It had been very long since I lived in the Empire State, and sampled such cuisine on a regular basis. So this throwback adventure made me warm inside.

 

Eventually, I took a cellphone picture of my stash, and sent it to the family member who had made this online excursion possible. He texted back with a message of approval. I was glad that the gambit had been worthy, in his eyes. Other members of the bloodline offered a similar review. Finding off-the-beaten-path comestibles was always deemed to be a worthwhile activity. I imagined that my late father would concur.

 

This brief interlude of gift-card expenditure made me wonder if perhaps there was some sort of service that might offer a new flavor of Ramen, every month. A club of sorts. It seemed likely that someone might have created such a nerdy setup, through the magic of online selling. Though getting hooked up at the moment, with so many packages sitting on my dining room counter, was not a move I could defend. Restraint kept me from websurfing. There were other, more pressing needs to be considered first.

 

For example, finding a good price on Huy Fong Sriracha, which had been absent from the shelves of my local supermarket for a few years...