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Chicken Pad Thai — Noodles for Long Life, Made My Way

Thirty. I turned thirty yesterday, April third, and the number feels like a country I've been approaching for years and have finally crossed the border of. I am thirty years old. I am a nurse. I am a writer. I am a daughter. I am a sister. I am a girlfriend. I am a woman who sat on a kitchen floor at twenty-seven and stands at a kitchen counter at thirty, and the distance between the two is three years and every recipe I've ever cooked and every word I've ever written and every pill I've ever swallowed and every breath I've ever counted to four.

Lourdes made pancit for long life — the tradition, the law, the noodles. She also made lechon kawali. Angela came with James. Jason came with his face, which is the best thing he brings anywhere. Lourdes's kitchen was warm and full and smelled like garlic and the particular birthday smell of candle wax and condensed milk (from Angela's fruit salad, which she brings to every event because it's her culinary identity and nobody argues with it).

Lourdes told me — at the table, in front of everyone — that thirty is the perfect age to find a husband. I said, "Mama, I live with Jason." She said, "Living is not finding." Angela snorted. James studied his plate. Jason, who has learned the Santos family dance, ate his lechon kawali and said nothing. The nothing was wise. In the Santos household, the wise man eats and stays silent during Lourdes's marriage commentary.

I blew out thirty candles and wished. I wished for the Philippines. I wished silently, because wishes are private, but I'll tell you because the blog is where I tell the truth: I wished to stand in a kitchen in Iloilo where the recipes started. I wished to eat adobo that someone else's mother made. I wished to understand, in my body and not just my brain, where the garlic and the vinegar and the one-more-squeeze originated. The wish is specific now. Not a vague someday. A plan with edges.

After dinner I sat on Lourdes's porch — the same porch where I sat with Joseph two summers ago, the same porch where I sat as a child while Reynaldo grilled salmon — and I thought: thirty. Three years from the floor. Nine years in the ER. Three years on the blog. One year with Jason. One mother who makes me pancit. One sister who saved my life. One brother on a boat. One brother in the Navy. One kitchen that holds it all. Thirty. The number is round. The life is full. I'm ready for what comes next. The garlic is in the oil. The sizzle has started.

Lourdes made the pancit, so I didn’t have to — but I couldn’t stop thinking about noodles after the birthday candles went out. There’s something about that tradition, noodles for long life, that I want to carry into my own kitchen, in my own apartment, on an ordinary Tuesday when I’m not turning thirty but still want to remember that I did. This Chicken Pad Thai is my version of that impulse: a tangle of long noodles, garlic in hot oil, the sizzle I mentioned at the end of my night on the porch — and enough color on the plate to feel like a celebration even when nobody’s watching.

Chicken Pad Thai

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 15 min | Total Time: 35 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

  • 8 oz flat rice noodles
  • 1 lb boneless, skinless chicken breast, thinly sliced
  • 3 tablespoons vegetable oil, divided
  • 3 cloves garlic, minced
  • 2 eggs, lightly beaten
  • 3 tablespoons fish sauce
  • 2 tablespoons low-sodium soy sauce
  • 1 tablespoon rice vinegar
  • 2 tablespoons brown sugar
  • 1 tablespoon sriracha (optional, to taste)
  • 1 cup bean sprouts
  • 3 green onions, sliced
  • 1/4 cup roasted peanuts, roughly chopped
  • 1 lime, cut into wedges
  • Fresh cilantro, for garnish

Instructions

  1. Soak the noodles. Place rice noodles in a large bowl and cover with warm water. Soak for 15–20 minutes until pliable but not fully soft. Drain and set aside.
  2. Make the sauce. In a small bowl, whisk together fish sauce, soy sauce, rice vinegar, brown sugar, and sriracha if using. Set aside.
  3. Cook the chicken. Heat 2 tablespoons of oil in a large wok or skillet over high heat. Add the chicken slices in a single layer and cook 4–5 minutes, turning once, until cooked through and lightly golden. Transfer to a plate.
  4. Aromatics and eggs. Add the remaining 1 tablespoon of oil to the pan. Add garlic and stir for 30 seconds until fragrant. Push to the side, pour in the beaten eggs, and scramble gently until just set, then stir to combine with the garlic.
  5. Add noodles and sauce. Add the drained noodles to the pan and pour the sauce over everything. Toss with tongs over high heat for 2–3 minutes, letting the noodles absorb the sauce and begin to char slightly at the edges.
  6. Finish and serve. Return the cooked chicken to the pan and add the bean sprouts and green onions. Toss for 1 minute until the sprouts are just wilted. Divide among bowls and top with chopped peanuts, fresh cilantro, and a wedge of lime.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 485 | Protein: 34g | Fat: 16g | Carbs: 52g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 980mg

Grace Santos
About the cook who shared this
Grace Santos
Week 158 of Grace’s 30-year story · Anchorage, Alaska
Grace is a thirty-seven-year-old ER nurse in Anchorage, Alaska — Filipino-American, single, and the person her entire community calls when they need a hundred lumpia for a party or a shoulder to cry on after a hard shift. She cooks to cope with the things she sees in the emergency room, feeding her neighbors and her church and anyone who looks like they need a plate. Her adobo could bring peace to a warring nation. Her schedule could kill a lesser person.

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