…with hand-pulled noodles
Both boys needed a haircut, and Sara was hankering for some noodles the other day.
Me: Wait, they have tomorrow off right?
Her: Yup.
Me: You wanna just head down to Chinatown and we’ll let both boys get a haircut and you can have your hand pulled noodles?
Her: Sure!
I gave her some hand-pulled noodles a while back and she’s been enjoying them ever since.
She’s been wanting to go to this hole-in-the-wall joint in the video above for a while now and the weather was just beautiful so off we went.
In that video, the chef’s making a buncha different kinds of hand-pulled noodles, two of which we had below.
The knife-cut noodles at the end are probably the coolest in my book.
But first, the boys had to get their hair cut.
They each picked out their own style and showed it to the aunties.
After they finished, we just turned the corner and we were there. We grabbed some seats outside for food.
Normally, I hate eating outside – mainly because it’s usually in some shed on the street which is inherently dangerous, and pretty uncomfortable to boot.
But Doyers Street – which I should tell you about onea these days – is closed to cars now, so it’s a lot nicer an experience.
I accidentally ordered the wrong dish for Sara, which worked out fine because I could then indulge in my inner fatty-fat-fat.
The below pic is of the thicker, flatter hand-pulled noodles that are hand-ripped as well. That’s the kind I like the best.
I think, scientifically, carbs don’t impact the body if you eat them because you ordered the wrong food.
That’s what I tell myself, anywho.
The bowl below is of the thinner long-pulled and hand-cut noodles varity.
Me: Why are you cutting the noodles?!
Her: They’re so long!
Me: They’re supposed to be so long!
Afterwards, we took a nice (loooong) walk to the west side and hopped the train home.
The weather was just perfect.
Me: These kinda nights are my fave.
Her: Because they’re spontaenous?
Me: Yeah. I think these impromptu things we do are the most fun.
Her: Agreed.
Me: I hope the kids remember these things. I’m hoping I’m giving them some nice memories to look back on.
I think that’s why I miss my dad so much.
Because he used to do alla these small but really meaningful things for me.
And they inspire me to want the same for his grandson that he never really got to know.
I know that I’ll never have those experiences again. But they live on in my head.
Ah, shit.
I did it again.
Location: the kid’s new middle school, hoping I made the right decision
Mood: sigh
Music: It’s my feeling we’ll win in the end (Spotify)
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