Spicy Coconut Noodles to Warm the Winter

I had forgotten about February.

In the past nine years in San Francisco I had forgotten how hard February can be—how the shortest month of the year somehow feels like the longest, dragging itself out day after dark and gloomy day. The novelty of the winter has worn off, spring is a ways away still, and the bleak grey continues. When you live in a four-season climate, February can sometimes feel like the dark night of the soul.

To be honest, this whole winter has been challenging for me. I’m back in Seattle (I know, it’s hard to keep track) and in the midst of my first winter in about a decade. While there have been some pleasurable moments (first snow!), it’s also been hard.



It’s not that I’ve never experienced real winters—I have, much colder ones even. Living in the snowy mountains of Japan my toothpaste and shampoo froze solid each night in my small, unheated bathroom. But between snowfalls there were sunny days; I could go snowboarding every day after work if I wanted; and the glorious experience of sinking into the steaming waters of an outdoor Japanese hot spring, a bottle of sake kept cold in a nearby snowbank, is worth some seasonal discomfort.

But never have I spent winter in a place with such little sun, so many wet days, and such short periods of daylight—all of which take a toll. I’ve also never spent a winter in a place where I know so few people, have so few friends. Living alone and working alone in a city where you have few enough connections to begin with is challenging, the isolation becomes oppressive. The past few months my work-at-home freelance life—one of my great joys—has felt like a curse. Add in weeks of dreary weather, short days and long nights, and more than my share of winter colds/flu and you’ve got a recipe for a massive case of the doldrums.



I’ve been living in Doldrum Central lately—a place no one wants to be in but the exits are not clearly marked and once you’re in it’s tricky to get out. Friends of mine here in Seattle warned me that people get depressed in the winter, that seasonal affective disorder strikes, but I wasn’t entirely prepared for the experience of having it happen to me.

I’ve had moments where I’ve considered packing it all in and going back to San Francisco—nobody is making me stay here but myself. I could return to a city I know and love, one that is filled with friends, and a farmers’ market that even in the middle of winter is bursting with bounty (the other day I stood in front of a stall at a Seattle farmers’ market that was selling only root vegetables and had to laugh; tears would have been the only other option). I could go back to a city where I know how to take care of myself better.



When I have a glum day in San Francisco I know what to do. I know that breakfast at a certain diner down by Ocean Beach and a walk on the sand can usually shake the grumpy out of me. A hike on my beloved Mt. Tam or at Sweeny Ridge never fails to set my spirit soaring. I can have drinks and chat with any number of friends, have my morning cup of tea and a cherry-corn scone while sitting in the Shakespeare Garden in Golden Gate Park, and if I drive down the peninsula, Mrs. B will let me curl up on her couch and vent about whatever is troubling me and will send me home with a bag of Meyer lemons fresh off her tree. In California I have resources I have yet to develop here—a network and community of support and comfort I’ve been building for nearly ten years.

But going back doesn’t seem the right thing to do. When I think of returning to my life in the city I feel exhausted—there’s so much going on, I don’t want to dive back into all that, I don't want to spend so much time in the car, in traffic. I could perhaps transform my life there into something that suits me better, something more comfortable for the person I am becoming, but the thought of that effort makes me feel tired.


Water flowing under a sheet of ice last month in Seattle.

Perhaps I could move north of San Francisco—to the rolling Sonoma countryside that has long been calling my name, but I’m not sure I am ready yet for a life that calm and quiet. Despite its unending grey winter, Seattle has much of what I want right now: a smaller city, a slower life, one with a garden in the backyard and trees everywhere. And my nieces are here, I can’t imagine leaving them. Being here I get to be part of their lives, day by day we are building a feeling of family that I’ve craved my whole life long.

It’s a tricky one to puzzle out, overwhelming at times. It breaks my brain a little bit, and then I look out the window at a monochrome of bleak and I want to climb back into bed and pull the covers over my head. I admit to doing that often this winter; I’ve frightened myself by how many hours I can sleep.



In the midst of these grey days and endless questions I’ve become fixated on tropical flavors. The other day I bought a can of pineapple juice with coconut bits in it, in the hopes it might make me feel like I was sitting on a warm beach somewhere.

It didn’t, but it was worth a try.

Indian food lures me lately (though I completely failed in my attempt to make dosa last week and I am still bitter). My new favorite Vietnamese restaurant makes me happy, and I crave anything with coconut milk. When I noticed this recipe for Spicy Coconut Noodles on the Real Simple magazine website, I had to try them.



While the original recipe for this dish says you can use either wheat or rice noodles, I'll put in a strong recommendation for rice noodles. This may be because seeing a bowl of cooked and drained rice noodles brings me back to Pad Thai vendors on the streets of Thailand—streets that were warm and lovely and that I wish I could return to right now. But all sentimentality aside, take my advice and go with rice noodles, it makes the dish.



I’ve fooled around with the recipe further—adding chicken, swapping the basil out for cilantro because that’s what I had in the fridge, eliminating the bean sprouts I didn’t want to go to the store and buy. This recipe calls for tomato paste and spices, but you could just as easily use a bit of Thai red curry paste instead, for a more Thai flavor (just don't use the same amount of curry paste or it will be far too spicy).

The result is a dish I adore—soft rice noodles in a sauce that is creamy with coconut and has a little kick of spice in it. There are crunchy bits, from toasted coconut flakes and the green onions, and the whole thing feels pappy and comforting, exactly the sort of thing you want to eat on a cold and grey day in the middle of February.



While I had no intention of doing this, I realized these noodles are very much like the nan gyi dok noodles at Burma Superstar, one of my favorite dishes at one of my favorite restaurants in San Francisco (with all the upscale food in that city, it's the homey ethnic places I miss the most). The flavor of the sauce is different, of course, but at its heart this dish is a cousin of the Burmese noodles I have been missing and craving all winter long. I can’t tell you how happy that made me.

February can try and do its worst—linger and lengthen even—I’ve got happy noodles. And I’m just girly enough (by which I mean, not much) to appreciate that they’re pink—pink! Even my little three-year-old niecelet would approve.

Come on February, show me what you’ve got. I think I can take you.

SPICY COCONUT NOODLES
Adapted from a Real Simple recipe

8 ounces rice noodles
1 13.5-ounce can unsweetened coconut milk
3 tablespoons tomato paste
1 teaspoon chili powder
1 teaspoon kosher salt or to taste (I used 1 1/2 tsp)
1 tablespoon chili paste or sauce (optional)
3 scallions, thinly sliced
1 cup cubed chicken meat or tofu
1 cup cilantro leaves, whole or torn
juice of one lime
1/4 cup shredded coconut, toasted

Cook the noodles according to the package directions and drain.

Meanwhile, in a large saucepanover medium heat, combine the coconut milk, tomato paste, chili powder, salt, and chili paste or sauce (if using—I didn't). Bring to a boil. Add the cubed chicken or tofu. Reduce heat and simmer for 5-10 minutes, until the chicken is cooked through (for tofu just make sure it is warmed through to the center). Add the lime juice. Stir in the drained noodles and toss. Divide the noodles among individual bowls. Top with the scallions, cilantro, and coconut, which has been toasted in a dry pan until it begins to brown ever so slightly. Keep an eye on it, tossing or stirring frequently, as it burns easily.

Makes four servings—but you're going to want to eat more than one serving, seriously.