During a long year of lockdown, we have all been cooking at home like never before. It’s been a delight to be able to spend all evening stirring a pot of risotto with no social plans to feel guilty about missing. But these stretched-out times, be they languorous or languid, are coming to an end. The social diary is filling up, and I for one don’t plan on missing a long-awaited reunion with mates because I need to be around to check on the roasties. Sometimes we all need something quick and easy for dinner. That’s when I turn to instant noodles.
For a self-avowed ‘foodie’, this is quite an admission. But for those days where speed is everything, and the alternative is therefore UberEats, there are far worse things. They are dirt cheap (generally 50p or less a portion), hot and filling.
Pot Noodles – along with Red Bull and essay crises – belong to a period of your life you have left behind.
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