In Xinjiang, almost every alley is littered with rice noodle shops, palm-sized places, and tables that are so greasy that you have no desire to clean at all.
People who often eat rice noodles don't look at the menu at all, just place an order and take out the small amount of money that has been prepared accurately. If you hesitate for a few seconds on such small details as beef fried chicken, beef fried chicken, beef mixed chicken mixed with wild mushrooms, pickled cabbage and celery or cabbage, yes, it is these few seconds of effort that you will catch up with the noon peak of students after school. Then, you will hear that the chicken is gone, the celery is gone, and the fried chicken is only spicy.
Whether it's fashionable white-collar workers, middle school students in school uniforms, or aunts who have just visited the vegetable market, regardless of class beauty and ugliness, people they know sit opposite each other, while people they don't know sit crowded. Because of the common hobby, the "socialist core values" are practiced incisively and vividly here, and what makes all Xinjiang people love to the end is a bowl of powder conscience.
After fishing for rice noodles, there is still more than half a bowl of soup left. Don't leave in a hurry. At this time, the real foodies began to give play to the spirit of eating in Xinjiang, took out the naan bought early, broke it into small pieces, fully absorbed the aura of the sauce under the soaking of the sauce, and then mixed the aroma of the naan itself to release a more intense taste. If you have a can of milk, beer, carrot juice, concentrated yogurt, Anaheim pomegranate juice or something at this time, believe me, you can lick the bottom of the bowl clean.