by Will McGough
Last updated: 8:00 PM ET, Mon August 20, 2018
I remember my first trip to pick up some fresh handmade noodles in Honolulu. I pulled up outside Oahu Noodle Factory in Kalihi and found a metered spot on King Street. Not knowing how long I might spend inside, imagining that I would peruse the selection of noodles like one might linger in the wine or beer aisle, romanticizing that I might bask in the smell of the fresh flour, I maxed out the meter with as many quarters as I could find in my cupholder.
Funny, then, that it took me longer to wait for the light and cross the street than it did to make my purchase and be not-so-subtly ushered out of the factory. Funny, then, that I almost spent more on the meter than I did on the noodles.
The reason I didn't spend much time in the store is that there really isn't a store. The factory is small and lacks a storefront altogether. I took approximately two steps through the front door before I reached a chalkboard menu and a greeter, who nodded her head as a way of saying, "What do you want?" I looked at the menu and there were a lot of options: Udon, chow mein, saimin, and egg noodles, to name a few.
I stumbled with my order, distracted by the activity behind her. In one corner, a man was washing noodles. In another, noodles were spread out to dry on a table top, and in yet another, flour was being poured into an industrial mixer. Still above was a small rafter, where a man handed down big bags of flour.
It was most definitely a working factory, one in which you are given a glimpse of the process. But it's only a glimpse. The greeter kept the line moving with a no-nonsense tempo. She again looked at me impatiently.
I placed an order for a pound of Pancit Miki (egg noddles) for $1.30. The greeter went off to fill the order. I took this brief opportunity to go another step in towards the action. I walked past the menu and into the center of the factory. I smiled at one of the workers who was washing noodles.
At first, he looked surprised, like no one had ever made it in that far. He eventually smiled back, a snapshot of the connection in the experience. Within seconds the greeter came back with the bag and asked for the money. I paid and was in and out of the factory in about 90 seconds.
That night, back at my place, I flash boiled the fresh, handmade noodles. They took just a few minutes to cook, and I mixed them in with a vegetable stir-fry. The quality of the noodles was on par with what I've come to expect from restaurants on the island-which makes a lot of sense, considering the factories also supply to local and mainland restaurants (see below).
One of the best bang for your bucks on Oahu, these fresh noodles are the most economical way to enjoy a restaurant quality meal in the comfort of your rental. Consider picking some up on your next visit. Here are two other noodle factories to try:
Yat Tung Chow Noodle Factory: Located on King Street in bustling Chinatown, this experience is similar to Oahu Noodle Factory in its informality. A small factory with one attendant and a long list of noodle options. Well known for its wonton wrappers.
Sun Noodle: The most famous noodle factory in Hawaii, Sun Noodle supplies almost all of Honolulu's fifty-some ramen restaurants. It's more professionally run and a bigger operation than its counterparts, but still down to earth enough to allow people to walk in off the street and buy its noodles for a few bucks a pound.
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