Real ramen

For me, one of the pleasures of living in Japan is being able to try out all sorts of food that is hard to obtain in the US. This is actually a far cry from how I used to be: I already mentioned my disastrous first experience with green tea (it didn’t agree with me), but much the same can be said of my encounters with many different kinds of fish, shellfish, mollusks, and, well… I guess you can see that I was never too fond of seafood. But since I’ve come to Japan, I’ve broadened my horizons substantially. What I once dreaded with a kind of loathing, doesn’t really bother me; sometimes (as is especially the case with green tea), it’s something I’ve learned to savor. And yet, there’s something even more basic, which I find myself coming back to, and with which many of you are probably already familiar. I am talking, of course, about Ramen.

In the US, there is basically only one “kind” of ramen: the instand kind. Found in packets in supermarkets, they sport a limited variety of “flavors” (all of which seem to taste quite similar). I first encountered it some time during my childhood, and (reluctantly) made a regular meal of it during my college years. It’s popular not so much for being healthy (it’s not), or for how it tastes (not so good), but the fact that it can be purchased in bulk for cents per package. But for ramen in Japan, this couldn’t be farther from the truth. True ramen is best served fresh.

There’s nothing quite like walking around the streets of Osaka and coming upon a ramen shop. Ramen in Japan is generally served at specialist establishments, ranging from high-class restaurants to streetside, standing-only noodle stalls. Either way, the ingredients are fresh, and nothing is freeze-dried, pre-fried, or otherwise altered. Instead, what you have are the basic ingredients of a good, authentic ramen dish, which come in various configurations. For starters, you have a base broth that comes in a variety of flavors: the most basic is salt, but soy sauce, miso, and pork bone flavors are also found pretty much anywhere. The pork bone in particular is a heavy broth, formed by boiling pork bones for hours until the mixture becomes cloudy. (It’s not exactly good for you, but it tastes really, really good).

After that, you have the ramen noodles: a distinctive yellow color, they are dredged in boiling water only briefly before being added to the soup. Then you have a variety of vegetables, which vary depending on the season and the whim of the establishment, topped off by a few slices of barbequed pork (char siu). The result is something that really ought to be tasted firsthand to be appreciated, but as I think you can tell from this description, I’m quite fond of it.

What might surprise you even more, though, is that ramen didn’t start out as a Japanese food. In fact, it is still considered Chinese food in most parts of Japan, and is often referred to as “Chinese soba” (soba are buckwheat noodles), rather than the more Chinese-esque “ramen” (which means either “lo mein” or “pulled noodles”, depending on who you ask). As the story goes, the dish was originally brought over by Chinese who came to make a living in Japan, or by former Japanese soldiers repatriated after the War, with either group, in any case, going on to found a multitude of noodle shops based on the dish. Simply change up the ingredients a tad so as to suit Japanese tastes, and you have the ramen that is known in Japan today, every bit a Japanese original as it is a Chinese import. (As I understand it, Japanese-style ramen is generally considered Japanese food in China.) And it’s really hard to understate how much it pervades Japan now, where it seems like you’re bound to run into a ramen shop (or failing that, at least someplace that serves ramen among other things) without going more than a mile or so away. Whether it’s the attractive price, the convenience, or simply the taste that brings in customers, ramen shops really are everywhere.

Of course, I don’t mean to give you the impression that instant ramen doesn’t exist in Japan. It certainly does; in fact, it was invented here. The credit (or scorn) belongs to Momofuku Ando, a Taiwanese immigrant to Japan, who founded the Nissin Foods Corporation. In 1958, after much experimentation, he hit upon a way of flash-frying noodles to make them readily available for consumption in a “just-add-water” model. It didn’t take long for the noodles, as a major convenience food, to catch on, and soon after there were scores of imitators (perhaps most well-known to American consumers is Maruchan ramen). Thus began the path to the instant ramen so well known in American supermarkets.

In spite of this similarity, though, there are many different variations on instant noodles in Japan. They are getting closer to resembling fresh ramen in spirit, as well: usually it involves a prepackaged Styrofoam container where you just remove the lid, add water, and mix in the other ingredients when the package instructs you to do so. These instant varieties have also worked their way into the cultural fabric of Japanese society, and are readily used in fiction as a staple food of people who can’t cook, or haven’t been paid yet for the month (truth in television, as I can definitely attest). Even so, there really is no substitute for the real thing.

Real ramen, of course, is one of the many things I will miss when I eventually come back to the US. Having experienced the genuine article firsthand, it’s hard to go back to the instant kind without being reminded of something wholly superior. Nevertheless, should you ever find yourself in Japan, I definitely recommend that you check out a ramen shop and try authentic ramen for yourself. It’ll make a believer out of you. As for me, I can make a hobby of sampling the regional varieties, which seem to be more numerous than regions in Japan. This isn’t necessarily a problem, but there are just so many choices… it makes me want to try them all.