Easy Chow Mein — The Pancit on the Table That Mattered More Than the Argument

New Year's Eve. 2018 becoming 2019. I don't do resolutions — the ER and the PTSD cured me of the fantasy that years cooperate with plans. But I do take stock: I am twenty-nine. I live with Jason. I write a food blog. I work in the ER. I take sertraline every morning. I see Dr. Reeves every Thursday. I cook adobo on Tuesdays. I am three years out from the floor. The inventory is longer than it used to be. The items are more varied. The woman doing the inventory is different from the woman who started it.

Media Noche at the Mountain View house. Round fruits, pancit for long life, leche flan. Jason brought twelve grapes — the Filipino-Spanish tradition of eating twelve grapes at midnight, one for each month, a wish embedded in each one. He'd researched this too. The research is the love. The Googling is the gesture. A firefighter from Eagle River learning Filipino New Year traditions because his girlfriend is Filipino and the traditions matter and the mattering is the point.

Lourdes was pleased about the grapes. She was less pleased about the fact that Jason and I are living together without marriage, a displeasure she expressed by saying to Angela (within my hearing, deliberately): "In my day, the man lived with the woman only after the priest said so." Angela said, "Mama, it's 2018." Lourdes said, "The priest doesn't care what year it is." This theological argument will not be resolved tonight. Or ever. Lourdes and I exist in a permanent state of agreeable disagreement about when cohabitation becomes acceptable, and the agreement is: we don't agree, and we eat the same pancit, and the pancit is more important than the disagreement.

Midnight. We toasted with cider. The apartment was warm. Lourdes was in her Ate Lourdes apron. Angela and James were married and settled and Angela was glowing in a way that I noticed but didn't comment on because some glows are not for public commentary. Jason held my hand at midnight and the hand was warm and the year turned and I thought: 2019. Thirty next year. The year of Lourdes's deadline. The year of recipes and readers and a shared kitchen and a man who brings twelve grapes and wraps lumpia and calls his therapist and makes sinigang that Lourdes says needs more tamarind. 2019. Let's see what the kitchen makes of it.

Lourdes’s pancit is irreplaceable — her recipe, her hands, her timing, her tamarind opinions carrying over into every dish she touches. But on an ordinary Tuesday when I need that same feeling of long life and forward motion, I make chow mein: same spirit, same stir-fried noodle logic, same quiet insistence that eating something good together is more important than whatever disagreement brought you to the table. It’s what I reach for when I want to taste the memory of midnight without needing to recreate it perfectly.

Easy Chow Mein

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 15 min | Total Time: 30 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

• 8 oz chow mein noodles (or thin egg noodles)
• 1 lb boneless chicken breast or thighs, thinly sliced
• 2 tablespoons vegetable oil, divided
• 3 cloves garlic, minced
• 1 cup shredded cabbage
• 1 cup bean sprouts
• 1/2 cup shredded carrots
• 3 green onions, sliced
• 3 tablespoons soy sauce
• 1 tablespoon oyster sauce
• 1 teaspoon sesame oil
• 1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper
• 1/4 cup chicken broth

Instructions

1. Cook the noodles. Boil chow mein noodles according to package directions until just tender. Drain and set aside, tossing with a drizzle of oil to prevent sticking.
2. Sear the chicken. Heat 1 tablespoon of vegetable oil in a large wok or skillet over high heat. Add the sliced chicken in a single layer and cook undisturbed for 2 minutes, then stir and cook another 2–3 minutes until cooked through. Remove from pan and set aside.
3. Stir-fry the vegetables. Add the remaining tablespoon of oil to the hot pan. Add garlic and stir for 30 seconds until fragrant. Add cabbage and carrots and stir-fry for 2 minutes until just beginning to soften. Add bean sprouts and cook 1 minute more.
4. Build the sauce. Return chicken to the pan. Add soy sauce, oyster sauce, chicken broth, sesame oil, and black pepper. Stir to coat everything evenly and let the sauce reduce slightly, about 1 minute.
5. Add the noodles. Add the cooked noodles to the pan and toss everything together using tongs or two spatulas, making sure the noodles absorb the sauce. Cook for another 1–2 minutes until heated through and lightly caramelized in spots.
6. Finish and serve. Remove from heat and fold in the sliced green onions. Serve immediately, straight from the wok if you can — the steam is part of it.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 420 | Protein: 32g | Fat: 11g | Carbs: 48g | Fiber: 3g | Sodium: 890mg