In Chinese, the formal name of this dish is guo qiao mi xian. Directly translated, “guo qiao” means “crossing the bridge,” and “mi xian” means “rice noodle.” Before I tried this dish again, I was surprised to learn that its name comes from a love story in Chinese folklore. There was a small island in Yunnan that attracted many scholars preparing for the “imperial exam,” a test for selecting government officials (“The Legend”; “The Confucian”). Among them was a diligent scholar who often studied late at night. His wife, worried that he was neglecting his health, crossed a bridge every day to bring him warm meals (“The Legend”). According to WildChina, the wife would carry the broth, noodles, and side dishes separately so they would stay hot until she arrived. Years later, the scholar successfully passed the exam, and in remembrance of his devoted wife, he decided to name the dish: crossing the bridge rice noodles (“The Legend”).

Growing up, I learned that Yunnan Province is the most culturally diverse region in Southern China. Coming from the north, eating this dish was a new experience because rice noodles have a softer and chewier texture than the noodles from my hometown. According to a study in the journal Appetite, “food tourism therefore embraces every opportunity to experience other places and cultures through engaging with ‘new’, ‘exotic’ or ‘unfamiliar’ tastes and flavour” (Kim et al. 2). I realized how true this was when I sat down at Ten Seconds Rice Noodle in Michigan, tasting the dish once more. As the bowl arrived with sounds of crackling flames, I could immediately smell the creamy aromas from the chicken soup base. Around it were small plates of corn, tofu, seaweed, beef rolls, lettuce and many other toppings. To make it more delicious, I added some red chili sauce to give the broth a spicy kick that I love. As I dug my chopsticks and caught the slippery rice noodles, I suddenly pictured my mother bustling around the kitchen, kneading, pulling, and cutting handmade noodles for my younger brother and me. The warmth I felt was no longer from the rising steam, but from the devotion and care that go into making a meal for the people we love.