By rolling and swinging and then folding it and then flattening it again requires labour of love honed by years of discipline and practice. I was in awe as I watched her swinging the dough in the air like the roti chanai man. She was nice to me and I thought for a moment, performing for the camera! Why not when you have a good thing going! Then the piece of flattened dough was torn into bite size. And viola, we have a classic noodles like those made by mom for those days where you wanted a change from the staple diet of rice and have something from wheat instead.
The Pan Mee in my bowl was of irregular size, shape and thickness. What a departure from those untouched by hands. There were even some knotty pieces that really enhanced my enjoyment. Remember those moments when hunger strikes hard and all you want is to have a carbo fix? It tasted so good and I was filled with contentment.
Fold it and roll it again and again.
Old school Pan Mee with cloudy soup! I actually detested those machine made dough and finished with the portable noodle maker that looks so clean, clinical and sterile.
Thick soup with lots of suspended goodness. Unplugged and straight from the village kitchen.