Dinner Rush at the Noodle Shop

Dinner Rush at the Noodle Shop

1Every Friday night, Linh helped at her grandmother's noodle shop on Pine Street. By six o'clock, every table was full, and the kitchen was an oven. Big pots of broth bubbled on the stove, and the steam curled up like gray ribbons. Linh wiped the sweat from her forehead with her sleeve and tied on her apron.

2Grandma Hoa stood in the middle of the kitchen. She was the captain of the ship. "Two bowls of beef noodles for table four!" she called. "More green onions, please, Linh!" Everyone listened, and everyone hurried to do their part. Beside the stove, Uncle Bao chopped carrots and onions. His knife moved as fast as a hummingbird's wings.

3Out in the dining room, Marco, the server, was a pinball. He bounced from table to table, carrying trays, pouring water and writing down orders. The room hummed like a beehive with talking and laughing. Meanwhile, new order tickets stacked up on the counter like pancakes. Linh stared at the growing pile. "How will we ever finish?" she whispered.

4Grandma Hoa handed her a ladle. "One bowl at a time," she said. So Linh filled bowl after bowl with the golden broth. Grandma Hoa always called her broth liquid sunshine, and tonight Linh saw why. When customers took their first sip, their faces lit up and their shoulders relaxed. A small boy at table six licked his spoon and grinned.

5At nine o'clock, the last customers waved goodbye, and Marco locked the front door. Linh sat down on a stool. Her arms felt as heavy as sacks of rice, and her feet ached. The kitchen, so noisy an hour before, was now as quiet as the moon. Grandma Hoa set a small bowl of noodles in front of her. "You worked like a champion tonight," she said. Linh smiled. She was tired, but it was a good kind of tired.