Dear Instant Noodles,


Since the Chinese Qing dynasty, or in your modern form, from Japan since 1958, you have conquered the digestive systems of millions of us poor humans. You have made yourself a necessity in at least every Asian household, and create panic when they run out of you.
We first met in Singapore, when I got enough teeth to eat solid food. It must’ve been Nissin original flavour my mum gave me, but whichever flavour you had that day, you stole my heart as well. We met at lunch quite often and boy what fun we had every time, from the first bite until finishing the salty powder based soup.

When we emigrated, I was afraid of losing you. However, you assured me that wherever I’d go, you’d follow so we could always be together. And how comforting it was that indeed, you kept your promise. There you were, in supermarkets and in Chinatowns. Soon enough we were together again, on weekends and after school. We stuck up for each other, no matter what. You’d always still my hunger and I’d always defend you as proper tasty food.

It’s safe to say that you grew up with me, and our relationship has developed over the years. As a young child, you were the treat my mum gave me for lunch. As a teenager, you became the lame excuse why I was too full to have dinner with the family. As I went to college, we became clubbing buds as well, as I found out that you’re also a fine hangover cure.

Today still, there’s nothing quite like tucking into a dry tandoori spiced version of you for breakfast at weekends. Or in your tangy Thai soup at work. Or your seafood flavour with extra veggies when entertaining friends without actually cooking something from scratch.

Instant Noodles, I think having said all this…I fancy another bowl of you now.


Hungry me


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