When I first began my quest for a noodle recipe to conquer, I felt utterly lost. When it comes to cooking, I view any recipe beyond a grilled cheese as a manuscript written in ancient and indecipherable tongues. I considered noodles from the readings, web searches, and even a Chinese cookbook I found wedged in a cupboard deep within the crypts known as my kitchen. In the swell of information, I didn’t know how I could possibly settle on a dish—all seemed like a fuzzy jumble of fancy words and spells. Then my mind arched back to a storyline in my head, something I could see—the image of long-life noodles that materialized in my imagination while reading the excerpt from Noodle by Terry Durack in the first week of class. Something about this legendary dish had captivated me, and I wanted to know more. So I researched “long life noodles” and came to find that this versatile dish can take on many unique spins apart from the recipe the reading presented, and that the noodles most commonly used in long-life dishes are a unique variety known by many names—Yi Mein, E-Fu, or Sau Mein. A braised-shrimp recipe stood out to me—mostly because I love seafood and have never felt confident in my ability to cook it, but also because shrimp is both delicious and easy to come by fresh even in small-town quarantined grocery stores. I asked myself: what better time to give it a go than now?

E-Fu noodles, like many other noodle varieties, are a staple of Chinese celebrations. They are an egg and (wheat) flour-based noodle, often set apart in texture by their incorporation of lye water (water with baking soda) rather than plain water. This gives them a porous, spongey texture that is further accented by frying and drying before packaging with organic acids. They are most often eaten to celebrate special occasions, particularly birthdays—the length of the noodles correlates symbolically to the long life of those who eat them. By serving E-Fu noodles as a long-life dish, one can wish longevity to a newborn child or celebrate a life long and well-lived. They maintain much of their symbolic presence today, despite (or possibly thanks to) their mass production, long shelf-life after processing (approximately three months), and relatively easy preparation. These noodles are typically eaten boiled or stir-fried, and most certainly in good company. Braised-shrimp E-Fu Noodles are a creative take on this traditional base dish, incorporating an appetizing seafood flavor while maintaining fundamental ingredients.

Long-life noodles, in the history of noodles themselves, are a relatively new member to the family. Though the first evidence of noodles in China can be dated to about 4,000 years ago, long-life noodles were not well-known until the 7-10th centuries AD, during the Tang dynasty. A Chinese legend describes how once, a man claimed longevity was related to the length of certain features on one’s face. As the Chinese word for face is similar to the word for noodles, the two gradually grew intertwined and shared this mythical history, resulting eventually in the length of the noodle being associated with long life as well. Another myth states that sometime during the Tang dynasty, the emperor and his wife suffered severe economic troubles, but that his wife still traded a prized purple shawl for a bowl of noodles to celebrate his birthday—and following this, the practice became a tradition. Whether the dish’s true origin can really be tied to either of these tales, it is most certain that their popularity and symbolism arose sometime during this period—a poet of the period, Liu Yuxi, noted in one of his writings an act of displaying long noodles to a newborn child in hope of its long and prosperous life. Following this period and tied to the ancient Chinese reverence of good health and longevity, the tradition of long-life noodles prospered—today it has even spread beyond the boarders of China, following migrant populations in an increasingly globalized world, and seeming to take on a particularly favored role in Japan.

I was very intimidated by this project and worried about how I could possibly pull off success cooking a ‘real’ dish—every recipe I examined contained a cacophony of terms and descriptions I embarrassingly did not recognize. Pouring over the recipe I had selected, I felt like the village idiot trying to conquer the wizard’s spellbook. Yet after translating these mystifying words (“braised”, “blanched”, “wok”), being apprenticed by my father in several new skills (stir-fry, deveining shrimp, and how to use a paring knife), and learning through tears that chives are, in fact, painfully similar to onions, I actually succeeded in conjuring up a tasty appetizer for my family one Sunday afternoon. In fact, it was so good I was asked to make another, larger batch for dinner that night. Not only did I greatly improve my confidence (and know-how) in cooking, but I also was able to enjoy a wonderful day learning to cook with my father, which led to a pleasant evening being showered with culinary compliments by the rest of my family. I cannot deny that I both learned a lot from this project and made several new, joyful memories.