Thin Wheat Line is a weekly exploration of noodles in Seattle.Noodle: Szechuan beef noodle with soupSource: Szechuan Noodle Bowl, 420 Eighth Ave. S., 623-4198, INTERNATIONAL DISTRICT.Price: $5.75Szechuan Noodle Bowl is another one of those ID stalwarts I’ve passed by 20 million times, until the MSG 150 crew raved about the place a while back. I’ve now lunched there a couple of times — first to try the restaurant’s cold noodles in sesame sauce, too sweet for my tastes, and then to clear out my sinuses with a bowl of the spicy beef noodle soup.But a warning first: Szechuan Noodle Bowl needs to call a kitchen-fan repair crew now. The sweet funk of cheese shops and dried-fish aisles makes me weak in the knees, but the smell of rancid fryer oil or burnt-oil buildup will chase me out of a restaurant. SNB reeks of scorched oil, possibly thanks to the popularity of its pan-fried green onion pancake, but the thought of getting closer to that burned-and-reused oil kept me from ordering one.I endured the stench until my soup came, then held my face over the bowl to bask in the fragrant steam. The broth was heartily beefy, with a bewitching hit of star anise and a clean, sharp burn, and the cubes of meat had clearly spent hours in the pot. (The greens in the bowl tasted slightly of burnt oil, but I couldn’t tell if they’d been flash-fried or if I was just smelling the room.) I only had one issue with SNB’s thick, chewy, udon-like noodles: How was I supposed to eat them in public? No one teaches you how to eat politely after the age of 12, and for the ten thousandth time, I wished I had a Chinese grandmother to give me etiquette lessons. I’ve eaten enough pho and ramen over the years to know that the quickest — and most enjoyable — way to eat skinny noodles is to scoop up a huge hank into your mouth, suck hard until your mouth is full, then bite off them excess. But SNB’s fat, weighty noodles, which were easily three feet long, seemed like they required more care. So I found myself pulling out a single length, looping it around my chopsticks, pulling and looping again, until I’d practically woven a potholder. Then I looked over, saw a guy in a business suit with a rope-sized tangle of noodles spilling out of his maw, and I realized: business as usual. Back to slurping.I’d definitely go back to Szechuan Noodle Bowl — $5.75 for a great lunch? — but only after making a preliminary pass to see if they’ve fixed the fans. Even a guy who lives for holes in the wall has his limits.