RAMEN

 Back before I had traveled all that much, I went to Japan in 2007 with my buddy Gogo. She had lived much of her life in Japan in a town called Sagamihara outside of Tokyo and was excited to show me Japan over our winter break trip. I think I was in Japan with her for two weeks and over that time I fell deeeeply in love with ramen. Not the cheap microwave ramen of the college era (even though we were in college at that time). This was the really really good, authentic, hot, beautiful, umami Japanese ramen. The kind you have while standing at the counter of a ramen-ya in Tokyo. The kind that the Japanese stop in to eat on their own, in a rush, on their way somewhere – but still savoring and slurping up every bite.

Oooh baby I’m feeling all kinds of nostalgic writing this one. Ramen became ingrained into my soul after that trip to Japan. Once I moved to NYC in 2010, I spent the next 8 years trying dozens of ramen restaurants. I made it to about 40 ramen-yas before moving away in 2018. There was one ramen-ya in the West Village, adorably and plainly named Ramen-Ya, that I ate at weekly for the 4 years that I lived in the village. Ramen was (if this is not obvious yet) my very favorite food. Nothing compared.

I, of course, still adore ramen. It is still one of the most delicious things I could possibly put into my mouth. But having traveled to some 50 countries since that trip to Japan in 2007, I have found many other wonderful foods to fill my food-lust bucket – a few of which I’ve written about here like khao soi, roti canai and bun cha. But I would be remiss if I didn’t wax poetic about ramen as well because it was the first dish I ever truly became obsessed with in this manner. The first dish that fulfilled me on such a large scale that I hunted it down wherever I could find it. It is a dish that honestly has helped me figure out who I am. What my interests are. What I love in life. What makes me feel good. Feel happy. Feel whole.

Shit, I owe a lot to ramen. I never realized just how deep our relationship goes. But hey ho, I still haven’t even described what this dish is. I just assumed you knew! You probably do know. Other than sushi, it’s likely the most famous dish to come out of Japan. But for the sake of continuity, let me describe:

Ramen is a Japanese noodle soup. It includes chewy/soft wheat noodles, a meat-based broth (chicken or pork are most common) and toppings such as a slice of pork (chashu), a small circular pink-swirl fishcake (kamaboko), dried seaweed (nori), chopped scallions, bamboo shoots (menma) and a softly-boiled egg cut in half. There are two main traditional flavors of ramen: shoyu (meaning soy sauce) and shio (meaning salt). Shoyu is a clear brown broth with shio being a clear yellow broth. I personally have always preferred shoyu and it’s the only one I’ve eaten on all of my ramen-based escapades.

Ramen is a very serious and respected art form in Japan. Ramen masters are trained for years. The time and dedication put into this dish comes through as you eat that umami-filled perfection in a bowl just about anywhere in Japan. There are some great documentaries and shows about the ramen culture of Japan that are very enlightening for those interested.

But back to me and my hot-ass, long-term relationship with ramen. It’s lusty. It will never end. We are going strong for over 13 years now. Even today, in my life here in Hawaii, I am hunting out all the ramen spots on the island. Luckily there is a vibrant Japanese culture on Oahu which has made it possible for me to scout out loads of ramen-yas to try, particularly in Honolulu and some of the surrounding towns.

Ramen is a dish that I will find and enjoy no matter where I am in the world. If I pass a ramen-ya in any given spot on this globe, I will always look up the reviews and very likely try it out. Because ramen is delicious. And life is delicious. I love life. I love ramen.