Having a one-day weekend will take its toll on you, as what it did to me. And eventually, you’ll realise that it is not the seasons that dictate when you should eat ramen, but how you feel. There is no perfect weather for binging on noodles (people who say that are purists!!) because it is always a good idea to binge on noodles. It’s like Paris, but Asian. So wearing pambahay clothes and sporting my unwashed hair, me and my sister headed to Trinoma to try Hokkaido Santouka.
Food triumphs over hygiene, as always.
The slurp-and-chew cycle of eating is a source of guaranteed comfort, but then again not having to eat anything is already discomfort for us. I heard Santouka’s Shio ramen is really good, and not very pricey.
Honestly, there is really nothing special with their Shio, but it percolates a lot of Japanese—minimalist, simple, and elegant. The pickled plum placed on top worked like an equaliser of sort. The orchestration of all ingredients into one bowl of warm and assuring serving of delicate wheat noodles makes it supreme. I particularly liked the pork slices for they were sweet enough to complement the salt base of the soup.
There was no sweat-inducing steam or overwhelming sides. Like Remy’s Ratatouille dish, it will take you back to some childhood memory, like that porridge your mother served you after you scraped your knee, or that foamy beer you shared with your dad for the first time. It was a good dish as well as a time machine.
The movie Tampopo tells us the right way to eat ramen, and although I am subjected to the same rules, there is really one rule to follow: goddamn savour it.
Kampai to Japanese cuisine!