Course 1
Quanda’s Noodles
(Stanton Dwellings in Southeast Washington, D.C.)
By Yolonda D. Coleman
Quanda’s Noodles
(Stanton Dwellings in Southeast Washington, D.C.)
By Yolonda D. Coleman
Ingredients:
2 cups of boiling water
1 packet of Top Ramen Noodles (chicken flavor)
1 curious little girl
The details of my childhood culinary memories are pretty accurate. It was an early afternoon in D.C. when boredom hit inside of 3179 Stanton Road. Grandma was watching an afternoon list of ABC soaps, and I needed to run my mouth to any listening ear.
I didn’t have a crew, per se, I could, however, be seen with Renee and Quanda and ‘nem---twirling a baton or playing tag in the courtyard of Stanton Dwellings project housing units.
It wasn’t uncommon for any of us to knock on a door and find someone cooking in the kitchen. Quanda’s house was about three hop scotch grids away from where I lived. Although the storm door was open, and I could see clearly into Quanda’s kitchen, I still tapped the screen door to alert her family of my presence.
“What cha’ll cookin?” I asked as an opener. I would later learn this would be my primary question when entering anyone’s home.
“Oodles of Noodles,” Quanda replied.
Top Ramen noodles was a favorite among Stanton Dwellings youth. It’s no spaghetti, but it sure put out hunger in a hurry between episodes of “He-Man” and “She-Ra” right after school let out. All we needed was three minutes, but we completely ignored instructions as outlined on the plastic wrapper that held the perfectly packed “dry block” noodles in it:
Boil 2 cups of water, add noodles, breaking up if desired. Remove from heat. Stir in seasoning.
Our salt intake for the day could be fulfilled in one packet of Top Ramen. The 760 mg meal had a nutrition tip: To lower sodium, use less seasoning. Ha! That would defeat the purpose.
As Quanda prepared her bowl of chicken flavored Top Ramen, I noticed that she drained the water. This was exciting to me and began my query in Quanda’s kitchen.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Draining the water,” she responded.
“I don’t get it. It’s going to be dry.”
Rather than respond, Quanda simply commenced to spread the seasoning in the pot over the wet, but no longer swimming noodles. Since she opted out of the instructions to break the noodles, Quanda took a fork out of the drawer and began to stir the seasoning over the noodles and then poured them into a bowl. She was kind enough to let me taste. I was in heaven.
Top Ramen was no longer a soupy treat for me. It was now gourmet pasta. Gone were the days Mom would cook Top Ramen and place the soggy noodles in a thermos for me to eat at lunch time. I hated that the noodles puffed up and the soup was cold. Even the bits of “fake-me-out” chives at the bottom of my Muppets thermos made me angry. Gone were the days of me breaking blocks of noodles when I only had to let them part naturally as the scolding water did the work for me. Gone were the days of my broth being watered down because measurements of water were over looked.
My two cups of water were merely suggestions. I just needed to get my pasta cooked until it was translucent rather than opaque, turn the water off, drain the water, add seasoning, mix, and eat.
The youngest in a household of six ( I made the seventh person) and a dog, I had some cooking skills to show my family the next time I stepped up to the stove.
“What are you doing?” Uncle Pebbles asked.
“Making Oodles of Noodles,” I said.
“Why are you draining the water,” he asked.
Like Quanda, I did a little showing instead of telling.
To this day, I’m not sure if my uncle enjoyed my treat. It didn’t matter, I felt accomplished in the kitchen. I let him taste, took my bowl near the black and white 13 inch T.V. that sat on the kitchen table, and watched She-Ra. She was the Princess of Power and I was the Culinary Princess for the hour. It was 3:30 PM, and I enjoyed every bit of my pasta until there was only a tiny noodle left at the bottom of my bowl. Slurp!
