However, contemporary miso ramen hails from Sapporo, Hokkaido, having only been created in 1954/5 by Mr. Morito Omori at his Aji no Sanpei restaurant. Two versions of the story exist; one entails Mr. Omori noticing in a Reader’s Digest about how foreigners liked miso, another simpler one recounts a customer asking him to add noodles and vegetables to miso soup.
Either way, Sapporo miso ramen is my favorite bowl of ramen.
I used to think that the broth solely consisted of miso, but in fact it is red miso added to a standard chicken, pork or other type of broth first. Throw in the usual menma (bamboo slices), green onion, and springy noodles, then top it with two Hokkaido specialties, butter and sweet corn. 旨ぇぇぇ! (So tasty!)
What am I still doing writing about it, when I should be making it? This always happens.
Ten ingredients you may not want to see in the same bowl of ramen:
Eggs (and their yolks)
Vanilla ice cream
Gouda (inexorably processed, that is)
Kamaboko (processed fish cake with mind-numbing preservatives)
with a generous sprinkling of Japanese parmesan cheese, because that’s what you were missing. Listverse, here I come.
Is this the antithesis of Tampopo, the Japanese movie about a woman trying to create the perfect bowl of ramen? Probably. But in a country where using Colonel Sanders as a buoy is soyesterday‘s news, I cautiously introduce you to coffee ramen.
The restaurant’s (it’s more of a kissaten, or coffee shop) name is 亜呂摩,or Aroma, and it’s located in Ohanajaya, Katsushika district, in the endless sea of black- and graham cracker-tinted hair specifically known as Tokyo, but generally known as Japan. Rookie advice: don’t go on Wednesdays- that’s the off day. I carelessly made the nearly hour long trek from Narita Airport first on a Wednesday, and got shot down. The typhoon happening at the time made it that much more of a thrill, as umbrellas suddenly lose their will to live.
The chef was an older affable man, and used to having foreigners in his restaurant. Not that the restaurant gets too many non-Japanese in the first place, but he’ll probably ask you to sign a guestbook, Pre-consumption of said ramen. He told me he changes the ingredients, or toppings might be a better word, every once and again, but don’t fret, for parmesan cheese is a staple garnish. You can try it hot or cold, but because I wanted to make it back to my hotel without being slumped over the whole time, I tried it cold.
Oh, and I don’t even much like coffee.
This is a great dish to make for your significant other when you’re about to break up with her/him. Unless she/he digs this kind of stuff, then you’re sending all the wrong signals.
After all of the muted hype, it wasn’t half-bad; better yet, at the time it cost only ¥700 (which can be anywhere from US$6.40-8.50, depending on how skilled you are in the forex game). The noodles were skillfully cooked, and the chef appeared humbled by his bizarre creation. Sure, that pink and white ninja weapon is none other than kamaboko (蒲鉾), patiently seated atop banana and kiwi slices, and the coffee bean riding the egg yolk evokes Salvador Dalí, but the majority of the dish, true to its name, had the flavor of (sweetened) Boss coffee, which apparently keeps bringing ’em in.
Don’t cower out and eat the toppings by themselves. That ham looks way too relaxed on the sidelines. Take a piece, then scoop out some kiwi and egg, dip it into the murky broth and slurp to your heart’s content. Fact is, I rarely eat any type of ramen, since most of the time I feel as if I’m in a salt mine while doing so. Also, if you’re not too adept at using chopsticks, it would seem wise to eat ramen if you’re not wearing a shirt.
Is it time you experienced coffee ramen? If you’ve already tried it, wouldn’t you want to know where to find life’s rewind button?