The First Noodle Battle

 

The Noodle Battle

Watching chefs at restaurants, we used to smirk—‘Pfft, that’s easy. Give me a pan, and I’ll whip up something better.’
                                         Lies. All lies.
To anyone who has ever said, ‘Cooking is simple,’ I present to you: The Noodle Battle.

Feeling like MasterChef-in-the-making, we decided to step up our game: Chow Mein noodles.
Big dreams. Bigger risks. More potential injuries.

First, we strategized like generals before a battle.

We ordered:

✔️ Noodles
✔️ Spices
✔️ Schezwan sauce
✔️ Soya sauce
✔️ Green chili sauce
✔️ Vinegar
✔️ Fresh coriander (because, aesthetics)

As we waited for Delivery Bhai to arrive, we did what we do best—overprepare.

• We watched at least 7-8 YouTube videos.
• Debated the sequence of vegetables.
• Discussed chopping techniques (Julienne? Dice? Alien geometry?)
• And obviously, assigned ourselves imaginary Michelin Stars.

Finally, ding dong! The doorbell rang. Ingredients in hand, we washed them like surgeons before an operation.
Now, the real test began. But wait—where’s the music?

"Yuhin chala chal rahi…"

Yes! My all-time favorite from Swades. The moment the first note hit, we were in the zone.

Until, well…

Disaster #1: The First Cut is the Deepest

One confident swipe of the knife—OH. MY. GOD.
I looked down. A single drop of blood appeared, glistening like the beginning of a horror movie.

My brother turned to check—SLASH.
We were now blood brothers. Literally! There went his thumb.

Panic. Drama. Screams...

One of us grabbed tissues. The other? Continued chopping like a warrior.
(Okay, fine. We both stopped for a minute, but we wanted to look heroic.)

And just when we thought we’d suffered enough…

Disaster #2: The Great Oil Splash

The sizzling pan was ready. Oil was heated to hellfire levels.
We threw in the veggies like pros—only to be attacked by boiling hot oil. 

Me: Running to the sink, shaking my burnt hand like a maniac.
My brother: Grabbing an ice pack like it was a medical emergency.

The onions? Still sizzling like nothing happened.

Within seconds, we were in full Bollywood action mode—dodging oil splashes like heroes avoiding bullets in slow motion with plates and spatula.

At this point, we didn’t care how the noodles turned out.
This was now a test of survival. And we were focused not burn my mom's only kitchen.

But after the wounds, burns, and emotional scars, we finally plated our dish.

We took the first bite.

And you know what?

IT. WAS. PERFECT.

Was it Michelin-star worthy? Hmm… let’s just say, Michelin is missing out.
Was it slightly overcooked? Who’s asking?
Were the veggies chunky? That’s called ‘rustic style.’
Too much soy sauce? FLAVOR, people. FLAVOR !!!

But after all the pain? No one was allowed to say anything bad.
So, we looked at each other and said:

"YUMMMMMYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!"

Because if you almost lose a finger and still eat the food,

it’s a victory. 🎉