It’s been a while since the scent of curry lingered behind the kitchen walls of my home. Growing up, that scent undoubtedly meant having “mi fen” (or rice vermicelli as most people know it) for dinner. I dreaded that. Actually, reflecting back, I dreaded just about everything that my mom made. It wasn’t until high school that I magically lost my disdain for Chinese food and yes, even began looking forward to having mi fen for dinner.

Back then, I thought- “What could possibly be worse than the dry, rough texture of an impersonating noodle made from rice?” It was delicate and fragile, two qualities that it in my mind definitely didn’t qualify it to be worthy of liking. But now as I appreciate the story behind mi fan, why the Chinese eat noodles on birthdays (for good luck, of course!), and how mi fan wholly captures spices that few other noodles can, I’ve developed a fond liking for it.

Mi Fen (米粉)

Mi fan is one of those foods that bridges the cultures between Asian cultures including Chinese, Filipino, Malaysian, Vietnamese, and even Pakistani. In Filipino, it’s called “pancit,” which actually means “pian i sit” or literally, “something conveniently cooked fast.” In America, they’re labeled as “rice vermicelli,” or rice noodles. One of those lightbulb clicking moments where I realized that I actually liked mi fan was when I found it in the vegetarian spring rolls they sell at Costco. Go figure. Fake American Chinese food made me realize how much I liked authentic Chinese food.

So my mother, who is actually home for the next week (or two) cooked a heaping batch of her mi fan which will last me for a good three packed lunches. There are tons of variations on this dish, but I’ve never seen anyone make it the way my mother does because she uses curry powder. I think it provides an intriguing flavor, which only a thin noodle such as this, can pick up.

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