Audio By Carbonatix
Noodles Ave. has a slightly ratty feel to it. Not that this counter-order-deliver-by-number-table-service is actually a ragamuffin dressed up in colorful ethnic garb. It’s just that there are little things that lead to head-scratching. On one visit, a brood of Noodles Ave. counter workers and kitchen jockeys–presumably on a break or maybe off the clock–gleefully flaunted and slurped from a 12-pack of Bud in a restaurant where the strongest drink offered is cola. Or maybe it was the tom yum soup that came in a big green bowl with two large chips gouged out of the rim. Exposed ceramic is a virtual Caribbean vacation for bacteria.
The soup was OK, though, ceramic flaws aside. It sweated clean hot-sour flavors that bathed mushrooms, spinach and pieces of dry, crumbly chicken. Rice noodles snaked in and coiled around those vittle fragments like so many highway mix-master ramps.
Fish cakes, though, were forgettable, in the way that stale can’t-stop-eating-them potato chips are after too many Buds from a 12-pack. These four spongy, greasy, golden brown ichthyic pads were actually tasty and hard to ignore, especially when you discover the spicy cucumber dipping sauce has grease-cutting capabilities.
Despite these flaws, though, Noodles Ave. has a clean look. The tables are neatly spaced, and the walls are white, reflecting the light dribbling from starkly techish fixtures. These touches are foiled by illuminated wall nooks holding Asian artifacts: vases and other collected tour-bus souvenirs. There are even gold-framed bead tapestries of elephants.
Not everything here is torture via a thousand barely perceptible flaws. Spicy basil leaves with shrimp, bell pepper and shreds of bamboo shoots had plump shrimp and a delicious brown sauce. The dish was handsome next to the perfect C-cup mound of white rice it shared the plate with. It had a jalapeño jolt, too, one that didn’t require a flame-retardant tongue.
Singapore noodles looked like a tangle of blond hair pulled from brush bristles, wallowing as it did in its curry tinge. Also wallowing was bell pepper, pieces of onion, bean sprouts, shrimp and pieces of juicy pork. But the sauce was completely absorbed by the stir-fired rice noodles, leaving a sticky, morning mouth film on every strand.
Thai salad was jammed with beef: chewy, long gray strips of beef covered with browned and pulverized rice specks, making it seem like the beef was seasoned with beach sand. This meat, dazzled with a brisk lime dressing, rested on a bed of browning lettuce leaves.
Wonton soup was just plain bland: a big bowl of soapy broth with dull wontons in noodle wrap that sagged off the pork knobs. The noodles tasted like ramen specimens from a cellophane package.
Two desserts are offered: mango sticky rice and sweet rice custard. The sticky rice was a gluey rectangle of starch topped with a sliced ripe mango. All it needed was a more generous shot of coconut milk.
Noodles Ave. is a fast-food boulevard ribbed with pavement buckles. They’re not craggy enough to knock you out of alignment, but the dental work sure rattles.
