Should you ever wait in line for a restaurant? That’s a question many were pondering outside Noodle Inn on Old Compton Street in Soho. Hand-pulled, oil- and chilli-drenched Xi’an biang biang noodles are the draw at this viral internet sensation, invariably involving a lengthy wait near the corner of Charing Cross Road. The place opens at midday on the dot, but the queue starts forming at about 11.25am – yes, even on a drab, cold Monday. By 11.40am, it stretches as far as Disney’s Aladdin at the Prince Edward theatre 100 yards up the road, and is divided in two, one half of which curls around the window displays of the Harmony sex shop.
“Are we really going to queue for this long?” I overheard several people say as their companion stared glassy-eyed at this no-frills, 80-seater canteen. It doesn’t matter that Noodle Inn’s mothership, Kung Fu Noodle, which specialises in the cooking of Gansu Province, is but a short hop away on the edge of Chinatown or, for that matter, that there are wonderful biang biang noodles to be had at Master Wei Xi’an in Fitzrovia and a dozen or so other places in town. That’s not the point: queueing begets queueing, and it’s a pastime that food fans now share at an international level.
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As a critic, I’m far from immune, either. I once waited hours to get into the UK’s first outpost of Din Tai Fung, for what were on reflection perfectly fine, but not life-altering xiao long bao. In fact, I’ve probably squandered days of my life on posh cookies and fancy burgers. To ruin that Kate Moss adage: “Nothing tastes as good as eating a viral sensation feels.” To be fair, the Noodle Inn queue moves pretty quickly – not least because, like all foodie internet smash hits, the place has to be run like a military operation rather than a restaurant. Queue, order, pay, get out. Within a millisecond, your seat will then be taken by another bank card-waving experience collector.
Noodle Inn’s menu is brief and, as you might have worked out already, noodle-focused. The chilli oil spill noodles are where I’d advise you to linger, be it the braised beef brisket, chicken or minced pork options, or the scrambled egg with tomato. They come doused in a rich, knockout glut of fiery joy, as well as with crunchy sprouts and enough minced garlic to stun Nosferatu, all piled on top of those noodles, which are wide, plentiful, fresh and sating. The toppings are generous and there’s a largesse, an almost too-muchness here that’s missing from other such London joints.
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But are they the best in town? It’s hard to say, because all biang biang, special wide-cut and stirred knife-cut noodles are pretty good – even the lacklustre ones. Width-wise, Noodle Inn’s biang biang teeter on the edge of lasagne, but that thick, smooth surface provides plenty of cling room for generous quantities of garlic, Sichuan pepper, cumin, coriander and delicious oil. After all, anything flat is more delicious in the mouth, and biang biang are the Pringles of the noodle world. The beef brisket arrives begging to be photographed, with a rib of gelatinous meat on top, although it was certainly not fall-off-the-bone tender enough. The braised chicken, on the other hand, was a dream. I think of it often, sitting there paddling in an inch of spicy oil. But for God’s sake, don’t wear white and don’t take a first date here.
We were allowed just the one go at ordering, so tried some incredible deep-fried prawn dumplings with wasabi mayo and a side of shredded duck burger with hoisin sauce in which the duck was a little dry and the bun more like pastry. By this point, however, and all of 28 minutes after sitting down, we got a sense that we’d already outstayed our welcome. Like a fool, I asked for some mango pomelo sago, one of my favourite Asian puddings, or, failing that, to try another of the sweet things on the menu, be it grass jelly with taro balls or deep-fried glutinous rice cakes with brown sugar, but there were no puddings at all available that day.
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And that, alas, is where most such TikTok places fall down, once the hype hits big-time. For the beleaguered staff having to deal with the daily stampede, the customer is merely a unit that needs moving through the system, and feasibly a one-time visitor, too. I lived in the Lake District long enough to know the feeling of being a minor burden when you’re trying to give people money. Noodle Inn is utterly delicious, yes, but there are equally wonderful noodles available just streets away, where you can book a table, linger and order as much as you desire. Frankly, though, that isn’t the point. The world is currently queueing for food on Old Compton Street, and if you don’t, you can’t say that you’ve done it.
Noodle Inn 4-6 Old Compton Street, London W1, 020-7434 1627. Open all week, noon-10pm. From about £20 a head, plus drinks and service
The next episode of Grace’s Comfort Eating podcast is out on Tuesday 5 November – listen to it here