But did she explain her disordered logic, a logic fast gaining power among health and exercise fascists? A logic that might become law? (Mississippi is attempting to make a law forbidding obese people service at restaurants.) Later, Kelly apologized, claimed to have suffered from an eating disorder and so on. To be brutally honest, even in real life, I find it aesthetically displeasing to watch a very, very fat person simply walk across a room - just like I'd find it distressing if I saw a very drunk person stumbling across a bar or a heroine addict slumping in a chair." because I'd be grossed out if I had to watch them doing anything. Responding, speciously, to her editor's query about how people might feel watching the show, Kelly responded, "I think I'd be grossed out if I had to watch two characters with rolls and rolls of fat kissing each other. Kelly was one of the uncomfortable, it turned out. Mike and Molly premiered, Marie Claire published an article by Maura Kelly in which the writer claimed numerous people were already not "comfortable watching intimacy between two plus-sized actors." Roseanne, which also featured leads whose weight seemed secondary, if relevant at all.) That is, the new, tremulous love story, familiar enough territory for producer Chuck Lorre, who brought us Dharma and Greg's romance and Leonard and Sheldon's, fromīut it is also, somewhat silently, a show about enormously overweight people. The writers seem to understand that it is the show's premise that engages us. Without them, the show would appear to have been staged in an asylum by angry, bedevilled inmates. Enduring a rail-thin, screeching Swoosie Kurtz making rapid-fire reference to her loathsome bedroom practices is proof enough of Mike and Molly's charisma. The other characters and certain parts of the sets seem tweezed from various old, hideous shows such asīecker or any given Tony Shalhoub vehicle. The rich stew of faces and languages was so New York-and a testament to how Chang's eldest succeeds not just as an accomplished kitchen but also as an egalitarian haven.The leads are funny and sexy together, and McCarthy's TV sister, Katy Mixon, is bizarre and riveting as a perpetually baked bombshell. Shuffling through the throngs on the way to our seats across from the kitchen, we looked around and commented on the crowd's extraordinary diversity. We had time for exactly one reviving drink (for me: Creature Preacher, with green chartreuse, pineapple, and lime juice) before a text message called us back to the restaurant. Of course there was a wait at Noodle Bar, so my friend and I walked a few blocks to Chang's cocktail den, Booker & Dax. Share another bowl with an eye out for contrast, like the zingy ginger-scallion noodles topped with shiitakes and the cucumbers that the kitchen quick-cures with sugar and salt.įor anniversary week, the restaurant served just one dessert-a peaches-and-cream cookie that references both pastry chef Christina Tosi’s popular blueberries-and-cream cookie and the company’s slogan, "Momofuku means Lucky Peach." If we’d wanted more of Tosi’s sweets, we could have moseyed around the corner to Momofuku Milk Bar. The egg’s yolk enriches and smooths the broth, and the bevy of textures (frilly shoulder, firm belly, pleasantly spongy fish cake, the yielding noodles) ensures that every spoonful is varied. Other ramen efforts in the city surpass Noodle Bar these days, but don’t discount the contentment this bowl still delivers. Chang also spurred the ramen wildfire that continues to rage across New York and the rest of the country. Noodle bowls came last, the de facto entrees. ![]() ![]() Noodle bowls (clockwise from center): chicken and egg with rice, ginger scallion noodles, Momofuku ramen The chile-slaked rice cakes with their jammy onions made a triumphant return, too. Garlicky smoked chicken wings were worth returning to the rotation, as was a witty riff on caprese salad with tofu masquerading as mozzarella and pungent shiso subbing for basil. Last month the restaurant served a weeklong menu celebrating its tenth anniversary, lugging out some beloved recipes from previous head chefs. Nothing compares to the original but other persuasive variations entice, including an oily-crisp shrimp cake with spicy mayo, pickled red onions (sometimes they’re shallots) and shredded iceberg lettuce. Order a bunch of dishes and the buns often arrive first. I only want to eat them at Noodle Bar to savor their archetypal rightness: the airy squish to the bun, the ratio of dense meat and tremulous fat, the sweet sauce colliding with oniony sharpness and clean-tasting cucumber. A decade of fetishism and imitation later, I’m so sick of pork belly buns that my vision blurs when they appear on menus.
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