It’s a blazing hot day in New York City. That hazy type where the steam hits you the moment you step out into the hallway of your fourth-floor walk-up, and your dog stops in her tracks, two paws out the door—even she doesn’t want to go out in it. The heat follows you all day, errands, the gym. The dog is so hot halfway through her afternoon walk, she stages a sit down strike next to a water bowl kindly put out by the local pizzeria. In the shade, I stand while she lies down, both of us panting, her paws surrounding the bowl like a lifeline. Ten minutes later I carry her as far as I can manage towards home. We make it back just in time for the thunderstorm, which brings little relief.
So it is that type of day. And to boot, there is nothing to eat in the fridge. So it is cold noodles for lunch.
I find cold noodles to be one of the best things to make in hot weather. Sour, spicy, crunchy, they are mostly veggies, so they feel “light,” which is good when you are city-sunburned, hot-apartment-uncomfortable, and barely dressed. You can make them all sorts of ways, which is convenient when you cannot leave the house. The basic formula is noodles—soba, udon, even vermicelli—vegetables, optional cooked chicken/pork/tofu, and a sauce. Almost any vegetables will work: blanched spinach, broccoli, snap or snow peas, asparagus, cucumbers. Earlier this week, it was Vietnamese style (I can take no credit for authenticity), with fish sauce, lime juice, chili paste, sugar, and herbs from the window box (cilantro, mint, chives, and basil, since I have them), mixed up in the bottom of a bowl. Blanched green beans, poached chicken, raw peppers, and scallions filled it out. Chinese style is today, since I have no protein—tahini in the dressing mimics cold sesame noodles, and bulks up the dish (though peanut butter is a great swap). The veggie drawer is almost bare, but it’s amazing what celery and carrots can transform into when you cut them thin enough (I used a peeler to make ribbons with the carrots). A few old radishes and peppers round it out. They're ultimately flexible, and spicy enough (if you like) to cool you down at last.
Cold Noodles
For every bundle of noodles, cooked and rinsed with cold water, I use a hearty quarter cup or so of tahini, a few tablespoons of soy sauce, a splash of sesame oil and rice or white vinegar, a squeeze of honey, sambal oelek to taste, and an inch of ginger and a garlic clove, grated. (I keep a thumb of ginger in the freezer for just these sorts of situations, and grate it in frozen using a microplane, like ginger snow.) For even barer cupboards, swap in peanut butter for the tahini. A little pinch of salt will keep you from using a whole bottle of soy. Mix it up and balance it to your taste—it should be very strong and a little too salty as chilling will numb the seasonings a bit. A tablespoon of the noodle’s boiling water will help the sauce come together, if necessary. Add the noodles and veggies, and protein, if you like. When everything is combined, stick it in the fridge to chill it down, then eat ice cold in front of your a/c.
