What Are Noodles and How Can I Use Them?

Egg noodles are wheat noodles enriched with egg, which sets them apart from plain pasta. That egg, often several yolks per pound of flour, makes the strand more tender, gives it a pale gold color, and lets it drink up rich sauces the way semolina pasta never quite does.

Most American boxes are wide, curly ribbons sold dry. In Germany and across Eastern Europe they are a daily starch.

U.S. labeling rules require at least 5.5 percent egg solids by weight before a product can be called an egg noodle.

Chow mein noodles are thin Chinese wheat noodles, and the name covers two very different products that often get confused on the shelf. Fresh or dried chow mein noodles are soft yellow strands of wheat flour and water, usually enriched with egg, meant to be boiled briefly then pan-fried.

The crunchy canned kind labeled "chow mein noodles" is a separate thing: short noodles deep-fried until crisp, used as a topping or in no-bake cookies.

Getting the right one matters, because they are not interchangeable. The soft noodle goes into a stir-fried noodle dish. The fried crisp version belongs on a salad or in candy clusters.

Rice noodles are made from rice flour and water, with a little tapioca or cornstarch sometimes added for chew and clarity. They are naturally gluten-free and come in every width, from hair-thin rice vermicelli to the broad, flat sticks used for pad thai and pho.

Their flavor is mild and clean, which is why they soak up the punchy sauces of Thai, Vietnamese, and southern Chinese cooking so well. They are the noodle behind some of the most popular dishes in Southeast Asian food.

Soba are thin Japanese noodles made from buckwheat flour, which gives them an earthy, nutty flavor and a grayish-brown color you will not find in wheat pasta. Most soba blends in some wheat flour for strength, but the buckwheat is what defines the taste.

They cook fast and are eaten as often cold as hot. That flexibility, plus the distinct buckwheat flavor, is what sets soba apart from the paler Asian noodles.

Ramen noodles are thin, springy wheat noodles built around one ingredient that gives them their bite: kansui, an alkaline mineral water. That alkalinity is what turns ramen yellow and gives it a slippery, chewy texture rather than the softness of plain pasta.

Most people meet ramen as the dried instant block with a seasoning packet, cooked in 3 minutes. But the same noodle also comes fresh, frozen, and dried without any seasoning, and those are what a real bowl of ramen is built on.

Rice vermicelli are thin, brittle white noodles pressed from rice flour and water, sold dried in tight bundles or nests. In Chinese cooking they go by mai fun or mei fun; in Vietnam they are bun, and across Southeast Asia they anchor soups, salads, and fresh rolls.

They cook fast and cook gently. Unlike wheat pasta, you rarely boil them hard, and most brands need only a soak, which keeps them springy instead of gummy.

Naturally gluten-free, they carry whatever sauce or broth you give them.

Bean thread noodles are thin, wiry strands made from mung bean starch and water. Dry, they look like stiff white wire; soaked, they turn slippery and glassy clear, which is why they are also sold as cellophane or glass noodles.

They have almost no flavor of their own. What they bring is texture: a bouncy spring and a knack for soaking up broth like a sponge.

Because they are made from bean starch rather than wheat, they are naturally gluten-free.

"Oriental noodles" is a catch-all label rather than one specific noodle. When a recipe calls for it, it usually means whatever quick-cooking Asian noodle suits the dish, most often a thin wheat or egg noodle, sometimes ramen, occasionally a rice noodle.

Because the term is so loose, the right move is to read the dish and pick. A stir-fry wants a springy wheat or egg noodle; a brothy soup wants something that stays tender; a cold salad wants a noodle that holds up after rinsing.

Cellophane noodles are thin, dry, almost colorless strands made from mung bean starch and water. They are also sold as glass noodles or bean threads, and the names all point to the same thing: a noodle that turns clear and glossy once cooked.

They have almost no flavor of their own. That is the whole point.

Cellophane noodles soak up whatever broth or sauce they sit in, then turn slippery and springy with a clean bite that rice noodles do not have.

Udon are thick, chewy Japanese wheat noodles, the fattest of the common Asian noodles. Made from nothing more than wheat flour and salted water, they have a soft, bouncy bite and a neutral flavor that soaks up whatever broth or sauce they sit in.

They are usually round or square in cross-section and noticeably wider than spaghetti. That heft is the point: udon is a noodle you feel.

Bean threads are thin, dry, translucent noodles made from mung bean starch and water. Dry, they look like stiff white wire and snap like it; soaked or cooked, they turn slippery and clear as glass.

That clarity is why they're also called glass noodles, cellophane noodles, or by their Chinese name, fun see.

They have almost no flavor of their own. That's the point. Bean threads are a sponge for whatever they're cooked in, soaking up broth, soy, sesame, and chili so the seasoning carries the dish.

Mungbean noodles are thin, dry strands made from mung bean starch and water. Soaked in hot water they turn slippery and clear, which is why they go by glass noodles, cellophane noodles, and bean threads.

They have almost no flavor of their own. What they do is soak up whatever they are cooked in, holding sauce and dressing along every springy, slightly chewy strand, so a good mungbean-noodle dish lives or dies on its seasoning.

Do not confuse them with rice vermicelli. Rice noodles cook up soft and opaque white; mung bean threads stay translucent and bouncy, with a far more elastic bite.

Lo mein noodles are soft Chinese wheat noodles, usually made with egg, the kind that get boiled and then tossed with sauce rather than fried crisp. The name "lo mein" means "tossed noodles," and that tells you exactly how they are meant to be used.

They are the same family of fresh yellow egg noodle used for chow mein. The difference is the cooking method, not the noodle itself.

Kluski are Polish egg noodles: short, thick, slightly irregular strips made from wheat flour and a high proportion of egg.

The word covers a family of Polish dumplings and noodles, but on a North American grocery shelf "kluski noodles" means the dried, stubby egg noodle, sold by brands like Mrs. Weiss and others.

They are heavier and chewier than ribbon egg noodles, with a soft, dumpling-like bite that holds up in rich, brothy dishes.

Made from wheat and egg, kluski are not gluten-free.

Whole wheat noodles are noodles made from whole-grain wheat, with the bran and germ left in rather than milled out. The term covers both Western flat egg-style noodles and Asian-style wheat noodles, the common thread being the whole grain rather than refined white flour.

That whole grain gives a tan color, a nuttier flavor, and a firmer, chewier bite, along with the extra fiber that is the usual reason for choosing them.

Think of them as a heartier stand-in wherever a recipe calls for plain noodles. They behave much the same in the pot; the grain just brings more flavor and a sturdier chew.

Corn noodles are pasta made from corn flour or cornmeal instead of wheat, sometimes blended with rice flour to improve the texture.

They are a staple of the gluten-free aisle: golden-yellow, with the faint sweet smell of corn, and cooked they land somewhere between wheat pasta and polenta, tender with a slightly grainy edge and a mild corn flavor that wheat noodles do not have.

The appeal is simple. They give gluten-avoiders a familiar pasta shape, in spaghetti, penne, elbows, and fusilli, without wheat.

Green noodles are pasta colored and lightly flavored with vegetable puree worked into the dough, almost always spinach. The Italian name is pasta verde.

The most familiar form is spinach fettuccine, or the green layers in lasagne verde. The color is the point, but the spinach also adds a faint earthy note.

A common surprise is how little the spinach flavors the dough. The leaf is there mostly for color and a whisper of green; in a finished dish under sauce you taste pasta first, spinach second. Other greens like nettle or chard show up occasionally, but spinach is the default.