Noodles are very often warm. Your tongue and stomach like warmth. Noodles also can get into the nooks and crannies of your stomach and fill them in unexpected ways and, voila!, you can feel more full and satisfied.
Noodles are a satisfying kind of chewy. Just enough firmness, just enough yield. It's hard to overdo noodles. Undercooked noodles would probably be bad, but that's easy to avoid, too.
Noodles go well with many, many kinds of sauces. And many seasonings. Can be as simple as cracked pepper plus butter or much more many-flavored than that (I'm no cook, so sauce terminology is failing me). Maybe even Heinz 57, if you swing that way. How many flavors in that?
You can spear veggies and/or pieces of meat on your fork and spin a bunch of noodles around them, and then when you bite into the food you get wrapped-up varied-flavored yumminess. Unless you bite the fork's tines. (Ow.)
Noodles can be eaten using all manner of eating implements, including your fingers. Or just leaning in and putting your mouth over the plate and sucking. FWUUUUUUEEEEEEUUUUUWWWWWP. (Note: I have not actually done this. Mom, you can breathe easy. But I can imagine it'd be fun and satisfying to do.)
"Noodles" is fun to say.
The brain is often referred to as "your noodle." So you can imagine you're eating brains while you're eating noodles.
You can dangle them from your mouth and imagine they're the world's loosest, whippiest teeth.*
In conclusion: Noodles.
(Actual cooks reading this, feel free to correct me. Funny corrections are even better!)
* This is true! As a writing exercise, I once did what Stephen King mentioned in On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft and paired random nouns with random adjectives, because that ALWAYS gives you a grammatically correct sentence, even if it makes no logical sense. My favorite of my two-word sentences? "Teeth melt."