The Smell of Noodles

Steam filled the dingy little kitchen as the water boiled steadily over the fire.

Sitting on two low benches, Qingqing and Xiaohu glared at each other and made faces behind Yuanzheng's back as he kneaded the dough.

The woodcutter's big hands were sure and smooth as he worked the thick white dough on a wooden board, dusting it with more flour, patting it gently. Qingqing watched him, wondering skeptically if the noodles he made would be edible.

"When are you going to be done? I'm starving." she complained.

"Me too." Xiaohu added reluctantly, looking around to see if there was anything to eat in the kitchen.

Yuanzheng raised his flour-covered hands hopelessly. "Do you think it's that easy to make noodles? Fine, the two of you are going to help me. Xiaohu, you're going to pluck those vegetables over there--that's the only thing I can trust you with since you won't eat them on the sly. Miss Qing, you can slice the leeks."

Groaning, Xiaohu picked up the basket of wild vegetables in the corner and began to pluck them. Yuanzheng glanced at Qingqing, who sat looking horrified. "What? Slice the leeks?" she repeated haughtily.

"Why? Don't you know how? Or is a fine lady like you too useless to do something menial like that?" Yuanzheng did not even look up from the dough he was kneading, but his voice was scathing.

Qingqing sprang up. "I don't know what fine lady you're talking about! I scorn to be someone like that MaoXiang. Give me the knife. I'll show you my skills."

Picking up the knife, she started chopping the leeks ferociously, pausing only to make threatening faces at Xiaohu and brandish the knife in his direction whenever she thought Yuanzheng wasn't looking.

Yuanzheng watched her from the corner of his eye for a while, trying to suppress a smile, and finally abandoned the dough. His flour-covered hands closed over hers. "Are you cooking for dogs? Who cuts leeks into such big pieces, do you want to choke eating them? Slice them like this."

Qingqing eyed him suspiciously as he handled the knife deftly, guiding her hands to slice the leeks into fine green rings. She compared them with the large uneven pieces she had cut with fancy flourishes, meant to intimidate Xiaohu with her knife skills more than anything else. "Fine, you didn't tell me you wanted them cut this way. Let go, you're getting flour all over my hands." She pushed him away pettishly.

It was harder than she thought, slicing the slippery leeks so fine, and she got so absorbed she forgot to make faces at Xiaohu. For a while, the kitchen was peaceful as Xiaohu plucked the vegetables, whistling tunelessly, and Yuanzheng painstakingly kneaded the dough, testing the texture every now and then.

"There!" Qingqing threw down the knife triumphantly and folded her arms. "Who said I couldn't do it?" Though she had never sliced leeks before, she was a quick learner, and she had managed to match the fineness of Yuanzheng's slices.

She waited expectantly for Yuanzheng's praise, only to have him glance at the leeks and nod briefly in approval.

"Good. Put them in the bowl over there," was all he said.

Huffily, Qingqing dumped the leeks into the bowl and was about to turn away with a sniff, but she couldn't resist looking back as she saw Yuanzheng's hands gather the smooth ball of dough up and stretch it.

The dough became thinner, longer, seemingly going to drop onto the floor; then he jerked his wrist and sent the two long ends twirling around each other, braiding them into one fat rope of dough. Then again, the stretching; his fingers dug into the soft dough and pulled it mercilessly apart, only to jerk again and make it bounce against the wooden board. There was a hypnotic rhythm to it that was strangely soothing, watching the dough stretch, twirl together, and evolve repeatedly. The surface of the dough was starting to take on a smooth glossiness.

Xiaohu also abandoned the vegetables to come and see as Yuanzheng patted out the dough carefully into a thick bar. Qingqing couldn't resist poking it, it looked so soft; her finger left a faint green mark in leek juice.

Yuanzheng slapped her hand away. "Don't touch. I'm about to cut the noodles now, you might lose a finger if you keep sticking it in like that without warning. Pass me the knife."

"Is it almost done?" Qingqing asked despite herself, handing him the knife.

"Patience," he said absently. Squinting, he marked the fair face of the dough gently with the blade, and proceeded to slide the knife smoothly through it. Working quickly, he divided the dough into small, equal portions, and rolled each rope-like section neatly in flour.

Taking one up, Yuanzheng's fingers sank into it and tore it neatly lengthwise into long strips, gathered the ends, divided it again, then again. Each time he stretched the noodles, letting them dance through the flour on the wooden board, turning them so that they pulled tight and even between his fingers the way a puppeteer played with a puppet's strings. With each movement the handful of noodles that appeared doubled magically, until he had a neat bundle of pale noodles drooping from his hand. Setting it aside, he took up the next portion of dough.

"I want to try too." Qingqing stuck out her hand suddenly.

Yuanzheng looked wryly at her. "It's not as easy as it seems." he warned.

"You saw me, I'm a quick learner. If I put my mind to it I can learn anything," she boasted. Picking up a piece of dough, she watched him. It had looked so effortless, so graceful, stretching the soft white dough, playing with it, like a dancer tossing her streamers. She was sure that she could master it, and impress this annoying woodcutter.

Not to be outdone, Xiaohu grabbed a piece as well. "I'm going to try too."

Yuanzheng rolled his eyes. "Well, we have a couple of show-offs, don't we? Very well, let's see whose noodles is edible."

He hid a smile.