Everyone knows of a cheap and quick noodle place nearby. For me, that place is a dimly-lit rice noodle shop located just a few hundred meters away from my apartment near the 3rd Ring Road.
Tucked into a narrow alleyway, the shop always appears dark from the outside. Its sign reads "Bridge Blessing Fate Cross-bridge Rice Noodle." With options such as thin beef slices, fish meatballs, and romaine lettuce, one can personalize their bowl with various (processed) meat and vegetable toppings, transforming it into a proper meal. A bowl of noodles costs around 15 RMB ($2), and a friendly middle-aged lady takes the orders.
However, the soup raises suspicions. It seems to be made from questionable soup powder, lacking substantial flavor. Its aroma doesn't carry the refinement of hours of pork or chicken bone boiling, nor does it boast the clarity of a Cantonese-style clear soup base. Part of me envisions the chef starting the day by mixing a large bag of flavoring agents with water. It's the kind of place you know isn't the healthiest or most authentic, possibly even edgy concerning hygiene standards, yet you keep returning.
The shop has witnessed me in various circumstances. Last December, shortly after Beijing reopened post-Covid, I opted for delivery from there when I could hardly move due to a mild fever. The food, for the first time, lacked that freshness I had come to expect. While I understood the ingredients might not be the healthiest, freshness was usually guaranteed. I refrained from complaining too much, considering the challenges the restaurant business faced during that tough winter when everyone stayed home to combat Covid.
Upon my initial arrival in Beijing in late 2021, finding a weekday dinner spot was essential. This place happened to be one of the most convenient choices. Being new to the city, the bone-chilling cold of Beijing's winter discouraged me from seeking food elsewhere. Conveniently situated on my route back from work, its warm interior offered respite from the cold. The food itself was warming, served piping hot in clay pots. The communal tables in the house also make it easier to eat a meal alone.
Occasionally, I'd miss visiting the shop—when I had consumed an excess of healthy food, when I felt lazy cooking, or when I needed a quick meal in the midst of a busy day. While I don't recall all the particulars of each visit, if I didn't frequent the place for a considerable period, the lady at the restaurant would greet me with, "Long time no see!"