Open air noodle stands like this are everywhere, it seems. Each appears to be staffed by at least six young men, who diligently pound dough, stretch, aerate and boil noodles, sautee meat, and rush around to accommodate the rapid table turnover.

Noodles are dumped without ceremony on your teetering plastic table and the noodle man rushes off to serve other customers. Crouching on your sidewalk stool, you prop up the table with your knee and clutch you purse with one hand. You have to look out behind you -- a person lugging a large cart of recyclables may be lumbering up behind you, requiring you scoot over on the sidewalk. It's extreme eating, and it ain't fancy.

But it's delicious.

The meat here was a soft, seasoned beef the tenderness of which indicated a nice cut of the cow. It definitely beat out some of the more gristly cuts I've been served here. The noodles were like al dente pasta -- thick and chewy. Red spicy oil had been added, providing a lip-smacking spiciness to the already slurp-worthy experience. Fresh cilantro rounded out the dish.

The damage? Five yuan, or less than 1 USD. And better than any noodle soup I've ever had.