Last night I made my third attempt at Japanese ramen, and this latest iteration was so delicious that I had to write it up. I’m not talking about flavor packet ramen, but something closer to the kind of ramen honored in the movie Tampopo:
Ramen is not a dish so much as a cultural tradition—a form that holds a high place in the taxonomy of cuisine. Were it biologically classified, it would be a phylum. Rameniac has a map of Japan with ramen types by region, with 21 different types. But no two restaurants make the same ramen. So saying “I’m making ramen” serves only to pique the curiosity, raising more questions than it answers.
Apart from the flavor packet variety, the only ramen I’ve known is what’s available in New York. Ramen in New York is a delightful curiosity, and the handful of restaurants making it are in the position to define what ramen means to most New Yorkers. And, in fact, David Chang of New York’s Momofuku Noodle Bar confesses that he makes an Americanized version of ramen—he says he has too much respect for Japan’s ramen tradition to attempt it here in the US.
If he’s not going to go there, than I sure as hell won’t. I need to tell you right now that my ramen is an abomination, a disgrace to the traditions and people of Japan, and I would probably be shot in Tokyo for my attempts to emulate this hallowed dish using third-hand knowledge and all the wrong ingredients. But by going for it anyway, I am taking part in an American tradition of distorting regional specialties into international hits, and I urge you to join me because it’s really tasty.
To serve 4, you will need:
- 3-4 pounds of pork neck bones
- 3 carrots, chopped into a couple chunks
- 1 stalk celery
- 1 onion, quartered
- greens from 1 bunch scallions (save the white parts, they will garnish)
- a few strips of kombu — Japanese dried kelp (optional, adds umami)
- bonito flakes (optional)
- miso paste, red type, or soy sauce
Bring the pork to a boil in a 3-4 quarts of water, and skim the scummy stuff from the surface—there shouldn’t be much. Let it simmer, covered, for at least an hour but more like 3-4. Add the vegetables and keep simmering for at least 30 minutes more. Now add the kombu and simmer until the kombu is rehydrated, about 5-7 minutes. Add the bonito flakes, stir, and turn off the heat. Now strain the stock through a strainer, discarding the cooked meat and vegetables.
Put the stock back on the stove. At this point, the stock still has no salt and probably won’t taste like much. Add a generous amount of miso paste, at least a tablespoon, probably two, and stir it in until it dissolves. Or add soy sauce until the broth tastes right to you.
While the stock cooks, you can put the toppings together. Everything but the noodles is optional:
- ramen noodles, or thin udon noodles if you can’t find ramen
- shredded or sliced smoked pork
- 4 medium-boiled eggs, shelled and halved
- 1 sheet of nori
- bamboo shoots in chili oil (sold in a jar)
- carrots or cabbage, grated or shredded
- cooked spinach or uncooked corn
- sesame seeds
- sesame oil
- scallions, sliced on the bias into razor-thin ovals
Once your broth is ready, you can either cook the noodles in it (if you want them to take on the flavor of the stock, and if you want the stock to thicken from the noodle starch), or you can cook them in a separate pot of water. Cook the noodles al dente, so they still have a little chewiness.
Finishing the ramen is kind of like making a composed salad. Start with a tiny bit of sesame oil in the bottom of the bowls. Add the noodles and stock, carefully arrange the toppings, sprinkle sesame seeds over everything, and let the eater do the rest. Here’s what my finished ramen looked like:
I used an Italian pasta bowl to really drive home the heresy. Note the lone noodle that is trying to slip away, back to its true heritage.
But seriously, don’t be afraid to try this at home — and if you do, let me know how it goes!
PS. Thanks to Winnie for helping me put this recipe together!