Noodles: The basic food for all Asians. Noodles mean long life, good luck, and wealth to some parts in the oriental world. But to me, they mean family reunions, birthdays and holidays full of people that I love.

In the Philippines, it’s called pancit,  A dish made of fried noodles, seasoned vegetables, and sometimes chicken. It represents long life in my culture and It’s always been the main dish of a party since I was young. My mom always makes it right before the event, “Because our house will smell good,” she once said to me. I’ve learned that it’s Filipino tradition to make pancit right before a party because the house will be warm and welcoming with the smell of good food.

For all the birthdays I have had, and all the reunions I’ve been to, there has been pancit.

I remember my 4-year-old self running towards the savory smell of my mother stirring onions, snap peas, carrots, and cabbage. I remember climbing onto the counter top, carefully avoiding the heat, and looking down at the vegetables slowly cooking and becoming ready to eat. I remember my eyes traveling to the dried and packaged noodles and my mother cutting them open and placing the long strings into the pan. I remember staring at them long enough that they’ve turned golden brown and had a sweet and salty smell, and the living room was already full of family members.

The first bite is always the best. The crunchy veggies and the soft noodles create a balanced dish. The salt and pepper make it salty and spicy at the same time. My father cuts up lemons from the grocery store, and he squeezes the slices so the juice drips onto the noodles, chicken and vegetables. During parties, I help myself to seconds and thirds, and then eat some from my mother’s plate.  

Making pancit is like putting a part of the Philippines into a dish. I was born there and moved to the U.S when I was 5. When I eat it, I close my eyes and remember the rolling hills and fields near my old house.

I’ve always wanted to help her cook the main dish of a party. But I’ve always been too young or too short. Now, since Thanksgiving is near, my mother asked me to cook the dish all by myself. It’s exciting and a little nerve-wracking because what if my family doesn’t like it? What if I mess up and burn it? But it’s also a privilege to cook pancit. It’s being like responsible for welcoming the guests to the party but with the warmth of food and the savory smell. It’s like welcoming them home.

by RAYANA MACAM