So, on a smoggy Wednesday my buddy tells me that he knows the best noodle place in Beijing. After stumbling upon it while drunk, he claims that this is the end all of noodle joints and that we HAVE to go. So on the outskirts of the hutongs we find it, a small place that seats maybe 25 people and smells of garlic, vinegar, and cigarettes. He orders for us, winking while he says, “Extra meat, like it’s a choice…” We pay the $7.50 grand total and casually take our seats as we are stared at for being the only foreigners in the place. We’re used to it. We watch the guy in the back masterfully work the dough as he strings it out and begins to boil our noodles. Served in a semi-spicy broth, these were hands down the best noodles I have eaten in Beijing. Shoutout goes to Jarrod for sharing this treasure of a restaurant.