Restaurant review: Instead of burgers There's nothing like Asian fast food to heal damaged pride, as Hanan Radwan finds out I thought I had learned my lesson. I had made a solemn vow never to shop for clothes with over-zealous friends whose style preferences are different than mine. Yet, here I was trudging through the gleaming corridors of Mall of Arabia, lugging bags filled with pants and tops that one such friend had firmly decided that I should add to my woeful wardrobe. "I'm hungry," was my desperate attempt to curb her assaults on my taste preference, my pride and my wallet. We had stopped in front of the Noodle House (or rather, Hall), a huge eatery inside the mall that was recommended by friends and was packed on that day. "Fine, fine. Stop whining and let's go in," my friend drawled, a decision that she had made too late as I had already stepped inside the eatery and was watching the chefs tossing and chopping ingredients in the spotless open kitchen. "What! No chairs? You want to break my vertebrae?" my friend squeaked, but an apologetic waiter led us past the rows of tables and decks to a comfortable sofa at the back. Like a lottery page, the menu at the Noodle House is torn off a pad and customers are asked to tick off their items of choice. I noted with consternation that the menu page was riddled with red peppercorn icons sketched next to most of the items and remembered my friend's aversion to spicy food. Beside us, we heard sniffing and blowing of noses from a family that had ordered the wet noodles and soups. "Watch out. Fiery stuff," the mother warned us. "But delicious." My friend snorted. Left with little choice, she settled for the Bakmi Gareng, fried noodles with chicken and prawns and stir-fried mixed vegetables. Staring at my tired face in the wall mirror, I suddenly detected a gamey smell and wondered at the source. "It's not my perfume. It's the noodles," my friend tearfully remarked. Indeed, although they were packed with chicken and shrimp, her egg noodles wreaked of raw egg. To make matters worse, her stir-fried vegetables were a sorry showing of solitary mushrooms, carrots and bok choy that were all but insipid. The waiter made the mistake of his life when he leaned over her and beamed innocently: "how's the food?" after which he was hit with an avalanche of do's and don'ts. Petrified, he scampered to the kitchen and soon returned with another bowl of standard noodles and a tiny pitcher of soy sauce while my friend drizzled over her vegetables in sultry silence. Sneering inwardly, I enjoyed a steaming bowl of Thai green curry with vegetables, pausing every now and then to blow my nose when the chilies became overpowering. Watching me pluck off buttery chicken cubes, wild mushroom stems and green beans from their milky pool, my friend was envious. "Try some with the steamed rice to balance the heat," I suggested cheekily at which she rolled her eyes and then rolled some more of her noodles on her fork. An international chain with most of its branches in the Middle East, the Noodle House is Asia's fast food answer to burgers and pizza, albeit with a heavier price tag. The heat of each dish can be tailored to preference and the menu is replete with alternatives suitable for vegetarians and recipes from Thailand, Malaysia, Singapore and China. Truth be told, however, grab-and-go food -- even if it is Asian -- can never compare to slow-cooked cuisine crafted by indigenous chefs who take their customers seriously. But for victims of a tyrannical friendship like myself, the Noodle House was a saviour. For once, I got my way and indulged in the taste of my choice. That feeling, however, was short-lived. Eyeing a store showcasing glittering tights on our way out, my friend rejoiced triumphantly. "Let's go in there," she barked. "I saw something that's just right for you." As I shuffled behind, I detected a glint of vindication in her eyes. The Noodle House Mall of Arabia -- 6 October
