People often describe a small local eatery as a “hole in the wall,” but Lungchi Chiangkuo Noodles (龍記搶鍋麵) has taken this description to extremes. It is located in what must be one of the narrowest alleys in Taipei. Lane 84 off Hengyang Road is no more than 70cm wide, and could be easily missed even with the wooden placard at the entrance of the lane.
It takes quite a bit of front to open a restaurant that offers just two dishes — and these only differentiated by their meat topping. The menu is a simple poster that gives diners the choice of furong noodles (芙蓉麵) and pork noodles (肉絲麵), which are available in regular (NT$90) and large (NT$120) bowls. The fact that the small and rather messy original shop on one side of the lane has been enlarged to a rather more modern dining area on the other side of the street (which even boasts a latrine), is an indication that lack of variety has not been a disincentive to customers, who often have to wait for a table.
Lungchi prides itself on two aspects of its noodles: The restaurant uses absolutely no MSG or other artificial flavorings, and each bowl is individually cooked up over the stove. According to a brief historical introduction hanging in the dining area, chiangkuo noodles are a specialty of central China in which ingredients fried over high heat are then cooked with stock to create a richly flavored broth. This is served with northern Chinese-style noodles that retain a firm texture even after extended steeping in the soup.
Photo: Ian Bartholomew, Taipei Times
Of course, noodles in soup are nothing unusual in Taipei, but it has to be admitted that Lungchi has good reason to be proud of its broth, which is rich in vegetable flavors and has a hint of milkiness from the addition of a scrambled egg that works its way into the texture of the broth as the dish is consumed. This mixture is either topped with Lungchi’s minced pork sauce (furong noodles) or a ladle-full of highly seasoned pork strips (pork noodles). These different toppings change the texture of the dish slightly (the former is softer and more luscious), but do not really affect the fundamental flavor.
On each table three condiments are offered: a homemade chili oil, roughly chopped garlic and white vinegar. The chili oil is mixed with black beans, and its multi-leveled flavor is the result of careful design and preparation. The vinegar can be used to pull back the spiciness if you go overboard with the chili (something that is easy to do), and the garlic gives the dish a totally different type of kick.
Although the two types of noodles are the only thing on the menu, there are some particularly fine side dishes, the most exciting (and popular) is stewed pig’s trotter (NT$50). This can be eaten cold, or you can ask staff to heat it up in a boiling soy broth. A personal preference is to eat it cold, when the artistry of preparing this intensely fatty and gelatinous delicacy is in full evidence. Other side dishes, priced between NT$20 and NT$30, are also prepared with care from quality ingredients. While the noodles might be considered a tad expensive for this part of town, the side dishes are more than reasonably priced, and are superior to much that can be found in the vicinity.
Photo: Ian Bartholomew, Taipei Times
Lungchi offers the kind of Chinese home-cooked noodles that have all but disappeared from the night markets and restaurants of Taipei. Because of the individual preparation of the noodles, service is not particularly rapid, but the waitstaff is helpful and remarkably solicitous to the questions of the mostly Asian foodies for whom Lungchi has become a culinary highlight when visiting Taipei. This is a great place to check out not just some well-prepared food, but also to catch the vibe that still distinguishes this part of old Taipei from the more trendy commercial hub.
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