When the substitute becomes the standard.

Ramen. Ten cents or ten dollars?

I think its safe to say for most the word ramen evokes thoughts of ten cent packages of dried noodles with far too much salt that you add to hot water and have a "meal". Even though the package says to boil water... everyone knows you put the stuff in the microwave for about three minutes and you end up with a product at a similar point on the bad scale. Or you can be fancy and just get the cup of noodles, but the polystyrene foam cup is quite obnoxious. But everyone has had the less than adequate meal at one point or another, and thousands upon thousands of college students consume God knows how much of the stuff every year. And before teachers were smart enough to catch on, it was the easiest and cheapest way to win canned food drives.

And then perhaps you have a decent bowl of ramen somewhere and it changes everything. Your mouth is flooded with all kinds of flavors you didn't know were possible, and your palate does somersaults over new combinations of textures. It's almost exhausting. But you grow to love what's happening and you go back again and again. You forget what that dried microwave brick was all about and you have no desire to return to it.

Then, you go to a different city for lunch one day because you've heard things. Crazy things. That there was an even better bowl of ramen. This doesn't even make sense because what you've had over and over again at the other place was as mind blowing as any food really can be. But they say its even better than that. Could it really be? Doubtful, but you find yourself on the freeway just to be sure. Upon arrival, there is a small line, but apparently that means you're lucky because there's always a line, and usually its long. Or it means you are a nocturnal creature and showing up at 2pm is what some might say is "after" lunch. Don't believe them. Anytime before 3 or 4 pm is perfectly normal for lunch. The place is small and there is a chalkboard menu on the wall. Three choices of broth, a buttload of "extras" you can add to your liking for anywhere from $1 to $3 and a little note that says "our ramen is not vegetarian food". That little message at the end and aromas dancing in your nasaries is very promising.

I've thought for a longtime that food can be quite transcendental, especially when you taste something from, say, your childhood but you're 25 or you're 40 or older and you haven't had ______ in years. Those moments can even be religious. A friend of mine has even been brought to tears by something she ate. This was one of those moments. Except I didn't cry because I am an iron pillar of masculinity. (Okay, it's just that I don't cry often. Not that I don't want to, but my crier is broken.) The first bite of this ramen took me to places I've never even been, to galaxies far far away, and across centuries in the past and to come all at once. It was unbelievable. And apparently, there is an even better place in New York called Ippudo which I HAVE to go to at some point, preferably soon. And all this begs one question: why on earth would anyone ever choose to put that aweful $.10 into their body for any other reason than necessity?

Days and weeks later, my mind still lingers on those flavors. Was it even real? Could such grandeur have taken place in the life of a mere mortal like me? David said it best, "is this real life?" As usual, I end up thinking about things far beyond what is normal and I find myself all up in my head... this time about noodles. But ramen is more than that and here is why.

I think I paid about $15 for that steaming bowl from heaven after all of my extras and tax. It was truly unbelievable and if you don't believe me and you're in the Bay Area, let me know and I will buy your noodles if they don't change everything for you. Well, we'll cross that bridge when we get to it. Anyway, when we hear "ramen", I'm confident that most will think of the ten cent dried noodles with salty broth in crinkly packages. But that's not what ramen is supposed to be. Its a substitute for something incredible. I wonder how many things in our lives are a rip off of something that's supposed to be soul-filled and delicious in every sense of the word. There's a song by Switchfoot called "Easier than love" and I wonder if it could also be about ramen. Of course, they didn't write the song about ramen, but it could be related. The song is about how sex is something that has become the substitute for love because its easier. A certain very prominent coffee company is trying to do this to people too. An instant coffee that's supposedly hard to tell from regular brewed coffee. Now I can imagine that its not too bad and I can see how you might drink it because its easier and more convenient, but when you taste freshly roasted coffee brewed in a french press (or a Clover machine, or some other snooty way to make coffee) you're blown away by what you're tasting and what you've allowed to become standard.

From all this babbling, I only know three things:

1. I won't eat ten cent ramen unless I have to (or I'm tempted in a weak moment)
2. I don't want substitutes to become standards for anything in my life because the real thing is that much better
3. Ramen Dojo in San Mateo, CA is FREAKING DELICIOUS AND EVERYONE NEEDS TO EAT THERE. Except, please don't because then I'll have to wait in an even longer 2pm line :)

805 South B Street

San Mateo, CA 94401

(650) 401-6568