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OK, first things, first:  That title?  No it’s not some obscure profanity that Elvis Costello hurled at a record-company executive at some point.  It actually refers to the inventor of the instant noodle, which is E.C.’s way of saying that this record was made with very little preparation or forethought.

This turns out to be a very good thing.  Without the time to fuss about with too much production nonsense, Momofuku is filled with some of Costello’s most accessible rock and roll in years.  The Imposters (including keyboardist Steve Nieve and drummer Pete Thomas of Costello’s longtime band The Attractions along with bassist Davey Faragher) are along for the ride, but they’re not limited to the gothic soul of their last effort with Elvis, 2005’s The Delivery Man.  This time, they’ve locked into their classic Attractions’ sound, with Nieve’s swirling keyboards often front and center like it was This Year’s Model all over again.

But don’t think for a second that the recording haste means that Elvis has been reduced to “moon, June, swoon” lyrics.  The opener, “No Hiding Place” is a lacerating attack on the New Media, while “American Gangster Time” takes a cold, hard look at American hypocrisy (“It’s a drag/Saluting that starry rag”).  In “Turpentine”, Costello turns his unsparing gaze inward.  The polysyllabic lyrics call for some of the old sneer in his voice, which had softened over the years to fit his forays into other musical genres.

Costello keeps things from getting too overbearing with hook-filled melodies and some help from indie darlings Jenny Lewis and Jonathan Rice, who add their voices to a “supergroup” that leavens some of the diatribes with gorgeous backing vocals.  There is instrumental studio help as well.  On certain songs, there are nine players banging away, leading to a glorious noise on “Stella Hurt”, which rocks as anything in Costello’s catalog.

But this isn’t just a start-to-finish rock album, as Costello allows room for some stylistic left turns.  “Harry Worth” is a droll, lounge-y number about the pitfalls of marriage, while “Mr. Feathers” takes its cues from E.C.’s former songwriting buddy Paul McCartney, albeit with much darker subject matter than Macca would normally care to tackle.

There is also a welcome lyrical warmth that shines through in Momofuku’s second half, especially on “My Three Sons”, a lovely lullaby that avoids sentimentality by focusing on Costello’s disbelief at his sudden domesticity, and “Song With Rose” a country-tinged gem that was co-written with Roseanne Cash.  Even “Pardon Me, Madam, My Name Is Eve” hits home by portraying, and humanizing, the Biblical First Lady as a jilted lover.

All the disparate parts somehow add up to Costello’s most consistent CD from top to bottom since Blood & Chocolate.  Not bad at all for something he cooked up on the fly.