An ode to soupy noodles and comfy pillows
I think a lot about noodles. And comfy pillows. Sometimes I think about soupy noodles while snuggled in a cloud of pillows. I was day-dreaming the other day about the myriad Asian countries with soupy noodles or noodle soups that are (sometimes) the epitome of comfort food for me. (At other times, it is other foods that make me happy.) From Burma to Tibet to Japan, and other countries along the way, the recipes change a little - a dash of coconut milk here - a sprinkling of spices there - and we have ourselves such a beautiful array of flavours and emotions. In true Asian/Bengali spirit, a fulfilling meal calls for a cozy nap. The kolbalish beckons. The humble bolster taken for granted by generations of Bengalis. Like a seductress, she lures us to take those 40 winks, sometimes a few winks more. A sublime love story with the perfect ending. The perfect crescendo, the high that even the most luxurious desserts may fail to provide.