With the caveat that packet noodles are always better than instant cup ones; I’ve enjoyed Nissin noodles (especially the seafood flavour) in the past. There’s never been a huge selection of Asian noodles available in the UK, but Nissin Cup Noodles were about the only one to really penetrate into British shops for quite awhile (things have improved a bit).
Anyway, I’d not put them even close to being the worst instant noodles you can buy; that’d be the various types of budget noodles you can find on the bottom shelves of certain British supermarkets.
I lived on these and other ultra-ultra cheap foods for awhile when I was too poor to do otherwise. These were some of the nastiest things I ever ate; soulless semi-translucent budget noodles to match the soulless semi-translucent budget packaging. They were always chewy, slimy, and limp regardless of how I cooked them. The broth only ever had one flavour despite what was threatened on that depressingly austere packaging; the salt-tinged tang of utter despair.
The only saving grace was that they were, at the time, about 7p each - a fraction of the cost of a Nissin noodle, to the extent that I could probably get a 2 week supply for the cost of one of those luxurious Cup Noodles. I was borderline anorexic at the time, in part thanks to these and other depressing budget foods (ok, it was mainly ‘body issues’ but whatevs).
These days I usually eat my preferred Nongshim brand of noodle, but there is another very, very guilty pleasure I have to share with you here. A true nadir of British food engineering, awful in every measurable sense and probably barred from the international marketplace as a result:
The Chicken and Mushroom Pot Noodle. Utter trash, but good trash, y’know? The kinda comfort food slop that oozes its way soothingly between the gaps of your soul. The texture is… unique. Get the water levels right and you are rewarded with a very gooey and goopy noodle indeed. Make sure you mix well, though, the powder has a habit of clogging up at the bottom of the pot and eventually you’re eating chalk. Part of the charm to be sure.
There is an optional, yet mandatory, sachet of soy sauce included inside each pot. However, I do have one very important - completely critical, actually - non-standard addition that elevates these things to a form of pure trash food ambrosia:
1 tsp Tabasco sauce.
Try it. You will be disappointed. But if you were to try it again - and again - perhaps to the extent that you linger overlong on these blighted isles, and you’ll come to feel the truth of it. That the humble Tabasco-modded pot noodle is the perfect accompaniment to yet another cold, wet, utterly miserable British day.
