Remember poor Yumcha, the Chinese dork Frank Bruni took to the prom? I used to walk by that place every day on the way to and from work. The decor really turned me off -- the red on black cliches, all the faux Chinese fonts, that gauche silver porthole door. Fetishy pan-Asian/fusion places make my skin crawl. I'm not anti-assimilation, but maybe I am a little anti-miscegenation when it comes to certain foods. I'm not sure I will ever be able to accept kimchi-cheese frottage.
Then sometime towards the end of last year, they closed. Apparently, its owner went on to open the new Noodle Bar around the corner on Carmine St. It's quickly become my favorite secret lunch spot. Where Yumcha seemed destined not to survive, Noodle Bar feels like a fixture. There's some je ne sais quoi about the place, an alignment of stars, good feng shui, something that feels like it's hit just the right note at the right time. Sure, noodle bars are trendy -- the long bar with the fourtop end in front of the open kitchen looks a lot like Momofuku or Taku, but hey, it really works. The decor is much less fetish than its predecessor and much more casual cosmopolitan Asia. The light streams in through the red painted French doors in a very cheery way. It's kind of like being inside a long London telephone booth lined by Asian newspaper.
Sitting at the bar, you can watch the cooks pas de trois around the slim, clean kitchen, tossing noodles in the big wok gracefully over a roaring blue ring of fire, composing and tastefully garnishing bowls of noodle soup with a casual hand.
The noodle soups are fantastic. They're probably all served with the same broth -- an elegant shoyu-based broth that manages to be rich and meaty, savory and sweet, clean, just garlicky enough, and without any greasy film. Today, I actually slurped almost every drop of the broth from my bowl, which is something I never do. The chicken noodle soup, which sounds boring, is surprisingly delicious -- plump shiitake head is covered by a fan of gorgeous, perfectly done chicken breast and wilted watercress over wide egg noodles, sprinkled with a tiny pinch of crushed red pepper. Sweet roast pork, redolent of anise, floats in that magic broth over egg vermicelli; it's served with a chewy and unnecessary vegetable wonton. And the roast duck noodle soup is gorgeous, the skin crisp and fatty. I'd love to see them tackle Thai beef noodle soup, which I have yet to find a good example of in New York. These perfectly portioned one dish meals are a bargain at around $10 a bowl. I know you can get noodle soups for less money in Chinatown, but you also get a lot more MSG and a lot less ambience.
The only app I've tried so far were the thin skinned fried hemi-circle dumplings, akin to Japanese gyoza but served with a soy black vinegar dipping sauce; we loved them. Though I've heard otherwise, I don't recall my few bites of the spicy noodles with coconut shrimp as masochistically spicy, or even spanky spicy, but I'll have to order it again to be sure.
Their menu expands tomorrow to include more Southeast Asian dishes (perhaps we can thank Zak Pelaccio for being a culinary Marco Polo for Malaysian food). One of the reasons I've been hesitant to put my love for Noodle Bar on blast is because it's been so pleasant to lunch there, lots of room, no wait time, and -- this is key -- very few co-workers. But we know how that goes. I'll do whatever I can to help Noodle Bar avoid its mongoloid sister's fate.
Noodle Bar
26 Carmine St. at Bleecker
212-524-6800
A C E B D F V to West 4th St.
Name: Justin Reed
Skewers for my grill.
