Thai Shrimp and Noodles

Week three. I have stopped tracking the days by their names and started tracking them by what I cook. Monday is miso soup and rice. Tuesday is noodle day — soba or udon or yakisoba, whatever I have. Wednesday is onigiri. Thursday is a bigger project — gyoza, or curry, or nimono. Friday is the farmers market, which still operates, outdoors, masked, distanced, the vendors behind plexiglass but the kabocha still the same kabocha, the carrots still the same carrots, and the normalcy of a carrot in a pandemic is a rope I am holding with both hands.

I made soba noodles with a cold dipping sauce — the classic Japanese preparation, buckwheat noodles cooked and chilled, served with tsuyu (dashi, soy, mirin) and grated daikon and wasabi and sliced green onion. The simplicity is the point. In a time of maximum complexity — pandemic, dying marriage, financial uncertainty, a three-year-old who needs explanation and reassurance and snacks, always snacks — the simplicity of cold soba is a mercy. Cook. Chill. Dip. Eat. Four verbs. Four actions. The world can be reduced to four actions and the reduction is survival.

Brian and I had a conversation that was almost The Conversation. We were doing dishes — always dishes, the site of all our truths — and he said, "This isn't working." I said, "What isn't?" He said, "This. Us. This thing we're doing." And for one moment the room was very still and the water ran over the plate in his hands and I thought: this is it. This is the moment the marriage ends, standing at the sink, with soap on my hands, at the end of a Tuesday in a pandemic. And then Miya called from the other room — "Mama! I need help!" — and I went, and the moment passed, and the conversation returned to the pile of unsent letters on the counter, growing higher, growing heavier, waiting for the day when gravity wins.

I wrote for the book at night, after Miya was asleep, after Brian was in the bedroom with his beer and his phone. I wrote about Fumiko and the internment. About what it means to lose everything and rebuild through food. About how her family was taken from their home and put in a camp and when they came out they had nothing and the first thing Fumiko's mother did was cook rice, because rice is the floor, rice is the foundation, rice is the thing you make when everything else has been taken and you need to prove that you are still here. I am still here. In this apartment, in this pandemic, in this marriage. I am still here. And I am making rice.

I didn’t make this dish that Tuesday — I made cold soba, the stripped-down version, the one with four verbs. But when that week finally released me and I wanted something that still honored the noodle, still honored Tuesday, but had a little more life to it, this is what I turned to. Thai Shrimp and Noodles carries that same sesame-and-soy backbone I was craving, that same cool-bright flavor that asks nothing of you except that you show up and eat. After a week of holding a rope with both hands, that felt like enough.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 10 min | Total Time: 25 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

8 oz thin rice noodles or soba noodles
1 lb medium shrimp, peeled and deveined
3 tablespoons soy sauce
2 tablespoons sesame oil
1 tablespoon rice vinegar
1 tablespoon fresh ginger, grated
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 tablespoon sriracha or chili garlic sauce (adjust to taste)
1 tablespoon vegetable oil
1 cup shredded carrots
1 cup thinly sliced cucumber
3 green onions, sliced
2 tablespoons chopped fresh cilantro
2 tablespoons chopped roasted peanuts
Lime wedges, for serving

Instructions

Cook the noodles. Prepare noodles according to package directions. Drain, rinse under cold water, and set aside in a large bowl.
Make the sauce. In a small bowl, whisk together soy sauce, sesame oil, rice vinegar, ginger, garlic, and sriracha until combined. Taste and adjust heat as needed.
Cook the shrimp. Heat vegetable oil in a skillet or wok over medium-high heat. Add shrimp in a single layer and cook 1—2 minutes per side until pink and just cooked through. Remove from heat.
Toss everything together. Add shrimp, carrots, and cucumber to the noodles. Pour sauce over and toss gently to coat all ingredients evenly.
Finish and serve. Divide into bowls and top with green onions, cilantro, and peanuts. Serve with lime wedges on the side. Can be served warm or chilled.

Nutrition (per serving)

Thai Shrimp and Noodles — The Tuesday That Almost Undid Me