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Bang, Bang, Biang: These noodles are knocking

Passport & Plate - Biang Biang Mian


Ingredients
1 Tbsp Vital Wheat Gluten
1 Cup All-purpose Flour
Salt (a pinch)
9 Tbsp water (it's half a cup plus a tablespoon, if that math is easier. I wish it worked with a rounder number, but, science.)
Oil (as needed, but about .25 of a cup)

 

How to prepare this recipe
Mix the dry goods (flour, gluten, salt) in a large bowl.
Slowly add the water, mixing as you go. (I recommend with a chopstick), until it gets to a manageable texture, then you can jump in with your hands.
Once the texture becomes like a shaggy ball, cover with plastic wrap--if you use a large piece, you'll be able to reuse as you need it, over and over. If your dough is too dry to become a shaggy ball, slowly add water until it does.
Let it rest for 15 minutes.
Take the ball out and knead it for 5 minutes. As it starts to get smooth, roll it as if you were making a snake out of Play-doh, so it becomes long and thin, then double it over and repeat until you're done kneading, let it stay a snake.
Split your snake into 8 pieces.
Roll each piece into a ball, then press it flat and coat with oil.
Go back to each dough ball and press it flat, then pull it so that it stretches and flattens.
Cover dough with plastic and let stand for 15 minutes.
Uncover the dough, and give it another stretch in the same manner--they'll be much stretchier now.
Cover and let stand 15 more minutes. This is a good time to put a large pot of (salted, if you'd like) water on to boil.
Uncover the dough, pull it a little to stretch, and begin "biang"-ing.
To bang the noodles, hold each end of the dough between your thumb and forefinger, and stretch it until it starts to resist, then throw the center down against your rolling surface, with the motion you might use to shake sand off a beach towel, but with your thumbs pointing toward each other, not out. You'll likely bang each noodle 2-3 times before it gets as wide as you can handle.
Once you're done banging, go to one end of the noodle and split it long-wise until almost the end. The noodle will start to tear itself, and soon you'll have one very long noodle. Put it aside and repeat with the other 7 dough strips.
Boil the noodles for about 2 minutes. They'll float when they're done.
Dress the noodles as you wish--I usually just add hot sauce.

 

The story behind this recipe
Bang bang. My shock at the texture shot through me like a gun. Bang bang. I was addicted to the thick ropes of dough, each one with as many different thicknesses as a yo-yo dieter. The low ceiling of the Flushing food court hung over me, waves of Chinese dialect flowed into my ears from every direction. The high of finding a new favorite food was followed by the low of knowing it didn't exist in Seattle. Bang bang. The dream of these thick, strong noodles would die when I stepped foot on the plane. Unless.

Bang bang. I needed to make them at home. Needed to sing my own siren song of Shaanxi, the provence from which they come. To be my own wide belt of dough against a table until the gluten submitted, lining up into that smooth texture.

I didn't do it. It was too hard. I gave up. Bang bang. The death of a dream.

Until the noodles came to Seattle. Biang!, the sign screamed. Biang!, I screamed. I bought six orders. I shared with friends. I sent family for more. I tried to overdose on noodles. Bang bang. The dream was alive.

I started developing my own recipe because the addiction couldn't be killed. Bang bang. Each slap of down of the dough was another step closer to making my own noodles. The recipe took shape, long, and twisted, gnarled like my search for it, but there it was. My own biang biang mian.

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