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The allure of biang biang noodles resonates deeply with me. While the percussive sound of their preparation may not be a symphony, I know that behind each rhythmic slap is a promise of satisfyingly chewy noodles that can be enjoyed in savory soups or drizzled with spicy chile oil.
Having grown up in the San Gabriel Valley of Los Angeles, I’ve always had an abundance of hand-ripped noodles at my fingertips. During my time in New York City, the flavorful cumin-laced lamb noodles at Xi’an Famous Foods were just a short subway journey away. The easy accessibility of these delights led me to never consider attempting to create them at home, despite the whimsical charm of the process.
However, with escalating dining costs and a newfound interest in honing my cooking skills, I decided it was time to try my hand at making biang biang noodles myself.
I sought guidance from sisters Sarah and Kaitlin Leung, who, alongside their parents Billy and Judy, operate the renowned Woks of Life blog and have published their own cookbook. The blog offers an array of noodle recipes, including a favorite — biang biang cumin lamb. Their family’s dedication to mastering this culinary craft at establishments like Xi’an Famous Foods reassured me that I was in capable hands.
It’s vital to understand the distinction between biang biang noodles and hand-pulled noodles. According to Sarah, creating hand-pulled noodles requires extensive training and skill. This method involves a technique akin to a cat’s cradle, resulting in numerous fine strands. In contrast, the method for biang biang noodles is decidedly more straightforward. “You take a rectangle of dough and slap it to stretch before tearing it in half,” Sarah explained. Rather than creating multiple strands, you end up with a single long ribbon, which is sometimes referred to as hand-ripped noodles.
The unique ripping style of biang noodles results in an irregular shape, which I find appealing as someone who doesn’t strive for perfection and simply wants to enjoy good food. The ruffled edges also provide excellent texture when coated with chile oil. “The charm lies in its irregularity, offering a distinct mouthfeel,” said Kaitlin. “Plus, the dough is incredibly simple, making it quite achievable at home.”
The noodle dough comprises only three ingredients: bread flour, salt, and water, all easily mixed by hand. When the Leung sisters learned from David Wang at Xi’an’s Famous Foods, they observed him mixing everything by hand. “If you’re keen to connect with your dough, mixing by hand is the way to go,” Sarah recommended.
For those with a stand mixer, the process becomes even simpler. I placed my flour, salt, and water into the mixer fitted with a dough hook, set the speed, and let it do the work. Following the Woks of Life recipe, I allowed the dough to knead for 20 minutes, resulting in a smooth and elastic ball that I could stretch slightly — a good indication that it was ready. The next step was to let it rest.
“Letting the dough rest is crucial for achieving the right elasticity,” Kaitlin advised. The Leung’s recipe suggested resting for one to two hours; however, my dough still felt stiff after an hour. I ultimately let it rest for four hours until it became stretchy and soft — just the right texture to start rolling and slapping.
With the dough prepared, I divided it into 10 pieces and flattened each one into small rectangles, measuring approximately five inches long, two inches wide, and a quarter-inch thick. Although my method diverged slightly from the Woks of Life’s, it was influenced by advice from another credible source: Jason Wang. Since I wasn’t using all the dough at once, I set some aside in plastic wrap in the refrigerator.
Next, I used a chopstick to create a lengthwise indentation down the center of each rectangle, pressing firmly enough to make a mark without compromising the dough’s integrity. This groove serves as a guide for splitting the noodles after stretching.
Finally, it was time for the fun part. Ideally, you would have ample countertop space for this step, but I improvised by using a large sheet pan over my stovetop. This setup worked well for my amateur noodle-making.
I started to wiggle and bang the noodles on the sheet pan, pulling and stretching them to a rhythm that felt quite awkward at first. Gradually, the noodles began to elongate, although not without some resistance. With fingers pinching each end, I twisted and swayed the dough, trying to achieve the desired stretch. Admittedly, this was more challenging than anticipated! Eventually, I managed to stretch one noodle to about three feet long, which I considered a personal success, given my preference for thicker, chewier noodles.
After all that effort, I found the indentation and tore the noodle apart, transforming it from a single strand into two long, thin ribbons. One of the best aspects of this recipe is that, despite the time spent waiting for the dough, cooking the noodles takes just over a minute in boiling water.
Once prepared, these noodles can be served in various ways. “I typically enjoy them in soup or with some form of sauce,” Sarah mentioned. “I haven’t explored stir-frying them much; usually, I just toss them in the wok with sauce.”
For a traditional approach, one might prepare a robust lamb stew seasoned with cumin, much like the signature dish at Xi’an Famous Foods. Alternatively, the noodles could be combined with soups or transformed into you po mian, which features a tempting layer of sizzling chile oil.
Opting for simplicity, I topped my noodles with a mixture of Chinese black vinegar, store-bought chile oil, soy sauce, and sliced green onions. Even with such basic toppings, the dish was exceptional; the chewy noodles served as a perfect canvas for the tangy vinegar and the robust flavor of the chile oil. I later utilized the leftover dough to make a Lao-style chicken noodle soup, where the noodles continued to shine amidst more subtle flavors.
The highlights of these noodles are their delightful texture — bouncy and satisfying, making it astounding that they’re so inexpensive to produce. The main cost is time, yet that time spent mostly involves passive waiting, which feels worthwhile.
As for whether I would make these hand-ripped noodles again, the answer is a resounding yes. I plan to incorporate the process of preparing dough in the morning to enjoy fresh noodles by dinner time into my routine. With the Lunar New Year on the horizon and the traditional symbolism of noodles representing longevity and good fortune, I am excited to continue my journey towards creating these wonderfully chewy noodles soon.
Lily Fossett is a freelance illustrator based in Bath, UK. She has a passion for portraying narrative in her illustrations and uses digital media to explore color and texture.
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