So you want to eat some ramen.
Well, if you’re already in Japan, chances are you’ve already at least passed by a shop or two. Usually clearly marked with lanterns or banners advertising “ramen” in katakana or sometimes hiragana (ラーメン orらあめん, respectively), you might be surprised how many of these places you’ve already overlooked.
This is because ramen is the workhorse of the Japanese culinary world. Free of pomp and ceremony, this simple food is a secret ingredient to the modern Japanese lifestyle. Hot and intensely satisfying, it’s served up quickly at the wooden counter of a usually dark, cramped space where people seldom spend more time than it takes to say “gochisō sama deshita.” Indeed, ramen is to the Tokyo businessman what curry-rice is to the Akihabara otaku: fast fuel to power an uncertain, high-octane lifestyle.
The surprising thing is just how much time and care do go into creating the bowl that’s placed down gingerly on the counter before you. Like any other stock, ramen broth takes time to come together, and the noodles – often hand-made on site – are labor-intensive. That steaming bowl is the product of a lot of time, thought, and effort. At least, that’s the idea.
So let’s get down to the nuts and bolts.
Although ramen immigrated to Japan from China at least a couple hundred years ago, it is a quintessentially twentieth-century Japanese food. Its meteoric rise to popularity began during the Meiji period. I imagine that the warm nourishment offered welcome respite for those Japanese citizens caught up in the tumultuous Meiji Restoration. The basic broth-and-noodle combination that had powered Eastern cultures for so long was still there, and clearly wasn’t going away. But like Japan itself, ramen learned to embrace new Western tastes and sensibilities, slowly warming up to new recipes and additions.
Today, there are four main divisions in the ramen world, and these boil down to the broth: shio, shōyu, miso, and tonkotsu. These are the four most powerful words in the ramen lexicon; they immediately give you an idea of what to expect. Of course, if it were that simple, this blog wouldn’t have any place to go after this post. And honestly? I’d like to stick around a little longer than that.
Shio Ramen
The first ramen broth was probably shio, made from a heapin’ helpin’ of salt plus some combination of chicken, vegetables, fish, and seaweed. You can expect a light, clearer soup that most closely resembles Mom’s chicken noodle. You can taste the history in this one. Ok, so maybe the idea of historical food doesn’t sound too appetizing, but shio ramen is a nice, light throw-back.
Shōyu Ramen
Shōyu is the all-time classic. A mellow brown hue – but still clear – this broth uses shōyu (soy sauce) instead of salt to gain a richer, more complete effect on the palate. This is where ramen really gets its legs and starts running with the umami (savory) flavor and doesn’t look back. Like when potatoes met salt.
Miso Ramen
Forged in a dark, sweltering kitchen somewhere in the frosty Hokkaido wilderness, miso ramen is the newest on the scene. Brewed for the biting cold of a Hokkaido winter’s night, this is the ramen to tuck into when you need some warming up. It’s incredibly thick, almost like a chowder, and copious amounts of miso paste give this broth a nutty, sweet and very pronounced umami flavor. Fatty fish or chicken stock – often along with straight-up pork lard – rounds out this heart-pumping beast.
Tonkotsu Ramen
Tonkotsu broth is made by boiling pork bones and cartilage until the marrow and other goodness is drawn out. The result is a rich and thick but well-balanced white, opaque stock. When done right, I think this is the most complex ramen, hitting a sweet spot between the heavy, sigh-inducing satisfaction of miso and the light complexity of shōyu. More brazen than shōyu’s approach, yet more sophisticated than miso’s wallop, tonkotsu walks a fine line that’s especially hard to get right.
Ramen noodles are made from wheat flour, salt, water, and kansui (alkaline mineral water). Although the flavor of ramen noodles is more consistent, the thickness, hardness, curliness, and quality of ingredients used all make a difference.
Topping choices are limitless, with more creative additions always just around the corner, but some common ones are: tamago (soft-boiled egg), menma (bamboo slices), negi (green onions), and chāshū (pork slices).
Take all these broth, noodle, and topping options, add a healthy dose of regional variation, and sprinkle with good old-fashioned Japanese culinary bravado, and you have one of the most interesting and complex foods on the market. So the next time you walk past that wooden hole-in-the-wall in your neighborhood, stop and give it a try. Chances are, they’ll be doing something different in there.
