I ran a Michelin pop-up with three packs of instant noodles

My kitchen seats four if nobody opens the fridge. I invited six people, told them the narrow aisle was an immersive dining experience, and printed a menu with no prices. This was mainly because the printer ran out of ink.

Course one was a single dry noodle standing upright in a shot glass. Course two was the same noodle, cooked. By course three, somebody had started taking notes. My neighbor brought a bottle of tap water and introduced himself as the sommelier. We served it in a measuring jug and called it the house pairing.

For the main course I used half an egg per bowl and gave the remaining halves a separate table. A guest asked how long the broth had aged. “Since the kettle boiled,” I said. He wrote down “young, expressive.”

The last course was the seasoning packet on a silver spoon. Everyone laughed until one guest asked if the packet came from a single farm. I turned it over. It came from a factory in New Jersey.

I didn't get a Michelin star. I did get a second booking, which I turned down because it would have meant washing the measuring jug.