梯坎面

It's average, not very good! I took a taxi to eat there early in the morning, but I didn't think it was necessary. The noodle shop near the hotel seemed to be similar to his! It's not very delicious. I ate at another noodle shop the day before, and it felt similar to this one.

Near the Chongqing Museum/Auditorium area, I happened to be searching for a meal after visiting the attractions. The number one noodle restaurant nearby is this one. The navigation is very accurate. You can get there in about 15 minutes on foot by finding the way. It is not far away. , right at the entrance of a residential market, with both open-air and in-store seats. This was the most local meal I had during this trip to Chongqing. There were few tourists, and almost all of them were locals nearby. The price was also local, and the meal was more than ten yuan per person, which was very filling. "Pea Zamian" is quite delicious. The amount of 2 taels is OK. It's enough for men who don't have a big appetite. There are a lot of minced meat and peas, and the softness and hardness of the noodles are just right. The only small bug is It feels a little lighter. The seasoning of "Signature Jajangmyeon" is just right. Both flavors are quite delicious, but I still prefer thin noodles to wide noodles. Well, I added "fried eggs" for 2 yuan each, and they turned out to be runny, which was a special surprise! Thumbs up!

The pea noodles and chili have a slightly bitter taste, but are very fragrant. The noodles are chewy, and the pea sauce is sandy and soft. The mixed sauce and meat sauce in this restaurant are generous, the meat is large, and the taste is good.

If you can't avoid going up and down stairs when you go out then the store on the stairs downstairs naturally becomes the best choice for breakfast I went out too early that day There weren't many people in the store Stairway noodles in rainy weather Early risers Start the day with a bowl of noodles from their store

Last weekend, I packed two pairs of comfortable shoes for Chongqing. Knowing the city is all hills, I didn't dare pack too much for the trip. I just wanted to follow the locals and explore the old alleys hidden behind the skyscrapers. After two days, my shoes were covered in more chili oil than the photos show. On the first day, I didn't head straight to Jiefangbei. Instead, I turned into a narrow alley at Qixinggang to find the "Tikan Noodles" stall that's been there for twenty years. Aunt Zhang was squatting at the door, preparing vegetables. Seeing me peek out, she called out, "Hey girl, want some peas and minced meat? Add a fried egg, please!" When the noodles arrived, the peas were coated in chili oil, and the aroma was irresistible after just a stir. I squatted on the steps to eat, and an old man carrying a shoulder pole passed by, smiling and saying, "The way you eat, you're just like a local." After finishing and wiping my mouth, I realized that the light rail was right above the noodle stall, rumbling as it passed through the building—quite interesting. This morning I went to Eling No. 2 Factory, but avoided the crowds at the popular tourist spots. Instead, I followed the stone path uphill from the back gate and stumbled upon an old teahouse tucked away on a rooftop. The owner, Uncle Li, was brewing Tuocha (a type of tea) in a copper kettle. Seeing me enter, he handed me a rough porcelain bowl. "Come on, have some tea and rest," he said. "This spot offers a view of the two rivers." I sat on a bamboo chair, watching the cargo ships slowly drift on the river. Several elderly people in the teahouse were chatting, saying that this area used to be full of factories, and they had even tightened screws here in their youth. The sun felt warm on my skin, and even the wind carried a hint of old Chongqing. At noon, I made a special detour to Chunyang Old Tavern. I didn't order any fancy dishes, just the steamed pork with rice flour and stir-fried pork kidneys from the next table. The steamed pork with rice flour was coated in glutinous rice, rich but not greasy, and the pork kidneys were thinly sliced ​​and stir-fried until crisp and tender, without any fishy smell. When the proprietress came to refill my rice, she reminded me, "Sister, eat slowly, and if you're still hungry, you can get more. Don't waste food." I took a sip of local Jiangjin Laobaigan liquor, and it was so spicy I was panting. She brought me a bowl of chilled rice cake, saying, "It's to cool you down; we Chongqing people always eat spicy food this way." In the afternoon, I didn't take the cable car. I followed the navigation along the mountain city trails, avoiding the main roads and wandering into the side alleys. In the old alleys near Tongyuan Gate, residents were drying chili peppers in front of their doors, the bright red peppers covering the walls. An old shoemaker sat on a small stool, tapping his awl with a rhythmic thud. Passing an old noodle shop, the aroma of Sichuan peppercorns wafting out was enticing. I went in and ordered a bowl of noodles. The owner said, "Our noodles only have lard, they're incredibly fragrant." Sure enough, one bite filled my mouth with the rich, oily flavor; I even wanted to drink the broth. The next day, I woke up late and went straight to Ciqikou, avoiding the crowds on the main street and wandering into the old alleys of the side streets. Below Baolun Temple, there was an old lady selling handmade chili oil. Her oil, a bright red, came in glass jars. I bought a jar, and she even taught me to add a spoonful when mixing cold dishes; it's more fragrant than the supermarket kind. In the alley, there was also an old teahouse. When I went in, some elderly people were playing Sichuan cards. Seeing my curiosity, they pulled me aside and taught me a couple of moves. Although I didn't learn them, hearing them laugh and shout "I won!" made it much more interesting than seeing the tourist attractions. At noon, I went to the food street at Yanggongqiao. Instead of looking for the long queues, I chose "Li Ji Chuan Chuan Xiang" (Li's Skewered Hot Pot). The lady helped me prepare the dipping sauce, adding garlic water and sesame oil, and said, "Cook the tripe for 8 seconds; otherwise, it won't taste good." The skewers were cooked in a spicy broth, incredibly satisfying. An uncle at the next table saw me drinking water and handed me a bowl of iced glutinous rice balls. "Is this your first time in Chongqing, young lady? This goes perfectly with spicy food." In the afternoon, I went to Huangjueping. Instead of just looking at the graffiti street, I went into the Jiaotong Teahouse. Inside, everything was the same as before: the wooden tables gleamed with oil, the ceiling fan twirled slowly. I ordered a cup of Tuocha (a type of Chinese tea) and sat in a corner watching the old men play cards. An old man in a Zhongshan suit, seeing me staring at the old photos on the wall, told me that students from the Sichuan Fine Arts Institute used to come here to sketch. "Back then," he said, "a cup of tea could last an entire afternoon, unlike now, everyone's rushing to clock in." I touched the scratches on the table, as if I could touch the past. Before leaving, I bought a roasted sweet potato noodle at the night market in Jiujie. The vendor added pickled radish and houttuynia cordata, and brushed on an extra layer of sweet sauce. "Take this on your journey, it'll be warm." On the high-speed train, I took a bite—crispy on the outside, soft on the inside, spicy with a hint of sweetness. Suddenly, I remembered the steps I'd trod, the tea I'd drunk, the stories I'd heard these past two days—Chongqing isn't something you see with your eyes; it's something you walk on, taste with your mouth, and savor with your heart. If you go to Chongqing, don't just focus on the lights at Hongyadong. Take a few detours through the old alleys; you never know, you might find a flavor you'll remember for a long time hidden on one of those steps.