Food Porn: Noodle Land

"Crying Tiger," my wife, Laura, said, running her finger down the menu at Noodle Land in Redmond.

If I had an 80's-style glam-rock band, our first power ballad—track six on our very first album—would be called "Crying Tiger," and it would be about a kung fu master who is sad because he's beaten all his enemies and now has nothing to do all day but sit under a peach tree and stroke his flowing mustache. If I had a van, I would have a giant crying tiger airbrushed onto the side, its claws out, rending the steel and weeping at its own awesomeness. If I were ever to join the yakuza, the first thing I would do is get a giant crying tiger tattooed onto my back, and Tora Naki (Japanese for Crying Tiger) would be my mafia name. I would become legendary as a hunter of men and a killer who always wept for the senseless loss of life every time he shot up some Shinjuku tea shop. Someday Hollywood would make a terrible movie about it, with the part of me played by Jean-Claude Van Damme."

You seriously need to read the rest of Jason Sheehan's review of Redmond's Noodle Land, because that was just the beginning.