Tonkotsu ramen at Tsukumo Ramen, Ebisu, Tokyo.
One hundred percent original content, squeezed and bottled in Toronto.
9 Notes
In a way, I almost regret having eaten at Tsukumo Ramen, because I know I’ll be filled with a powerful craving for this porky thing of perfection in a couple weeks (probably much sooner), and I’ll be plum out of luck in good ol’ ramen-challenged Toronto. Sure there’s a few places dishing out weak-ass bowls of noodles to people who don’t know better, but for those who have supped at the alter of Ramen, there’s no going back. Am I being a wee bit dramatic? No. If anything, I’m showing what I beleive to be great restraint.
In need of a tonkotsu fix (ramen originally from Kyushu, with a rich, milky pork bone broth and thinish noodles) we headed out to the ever-hip district of Ebisu, Tokyo (near Shibuya) in search of Tsukumo Ramen, which I’d been assured was top-notch. T’was, and I really couldn’t have asked for more. Nice vibe, good music, energetic service and yes, great ramen.
The specialty here is actually cheese ramen (you’ll hear a constant whizzing as they toss a hunk down the grater to land atop a bowl of steaming noodles) but I opted for shoyu tonkotsu — your usual suspects plus a dash of shoyu drizzled on the surface of the finished dish — and my wife went for straight ahead tonkotsu. The broth? Effing great. I could drink a cup of this stuff for breakfast, although many if not all doctors would advise against it — this is rich, fatty stuff. Some might find it a tad salty, but not I. The noodles? Perfect. With a handful of free toppings thrown in (egg, nori, bean sprouts, sesame and more) I was beyond full when we eventually made our way to the door, where about 10 people with drool running down their chins were waiting for tables or a spot at the counter.
Places like these, where you can have a meal prepared by people who are truly obsessed with the food they serve, and who do one thing and do it very, very well, are what I miss most about living in Tokyo. That and izakayas, although that, friend-o, is a story for another day.
(Shoyu tonkotsu, pictured above.)
1 Notes
Yes, it’s been a long while since I’ve posted to the ol’ blog, but after a few days back in Tokyo, freed from my phone and in constant contact with food that makes me love food again, I’m feeling somewhat refreshed. It could also have something to do with the 11 hours of sleep I’m getting due to a combination of an endless supply of my father-in law’s beer, three-hour variety shows and a heaping spoonful of jet lag.
More to come, dear readers…
“What could possibly be fun about a visa-run to Buffalo?” I pretend to hear you ask.
a) A moderate amount of shopping with a currency that’s finally worth more than the Vietnamese Dong (any excuse) is something to seek a wee bit of solace in, until the soul-crushing realization that you don’t need any of this shit seeps through your ironically purchased Buffalo Bills cap into your dopamine satiated brain. The picture frame was a really good deal, though.
b) Lunch at the Anchor Bar, which is either a touristy hell-pit serving poultry by the pound to out-of-town fatties, or the definitive “Buffalo Chicken Wing” — they claim to have invented ‘em — depending on who you ask. Nice old-school atmosphere, but unquestionably the Disneyland of Buffalo wing joints. Having said that, you can score some meth but a few blocks away to take the edge off if crowds ain’t your bag.
c) We doubled our money at the Fallsview Casino, which would be nice if we had the proverbial clams to play more than $10. Better than nothing, and worth the visit if only to bear witness to the absolute assholes who show up to gamble on a Saturday night. Yes, I’m talking to you, Mad Men themed batchelor party.
Having to wait an hour and half with the various other “undesirables” for an interview to get into the US and an impromptu tour through Crackton only added to the fun, dear friends. I won’t go so far to say as I’ll be back soon, but you never know. Indeed.
1 Notes