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Last night's dinner was a brutally spicy and salty delicious bowl of noodles. I got some weird flat noodles with a spicy sesame oil packet at the store; they're ok by themselves, hot and with that weird sort of earthy, almost szechuan taste, but a little boring all alone. So I added some baby bok choy, kim chee, and fermented bean chili paste in there, with a little dash of extra sesame oil and soy sauce. The bean paste is utterly incredible stuff, by the by. It comes in a little red jar and utterly transforms a soup or bowl of noodles of just about any kind with a rich, loamy, salty hot spice that has to be tasted to be believed. It might be a little bit of an acquired taste. I acquired it, myself, and it drives me nuts in the best way.
The overall effect was that I had this deeply earthy-tasting bowl of noodles with this sort of rich, low-set spicy heat to it. Not "gargling a mouthful of sriracha" hot, but the sort of "you're standing next to the fireplace in a moodily lit room late on a winter evening, and Isaac Hayes is on the radio" level of hot - the smouldering and sexy kind that reminds you that you're still alive. The broth that formed in the bottom of the bowl was a bright crimson red and was salty as a heartbeat and spicy as houses.
Tonight's dinner: I'm thinkin' chicken.
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