Ramen: Tokyo's Ultimate Comfort Food

Who doesn’t like ramen? Like American chicken noodle soup, pho in Vietnam, Mexican tortilla soup, or Tuscan bean soup, it’s comfort food.

Invented in Japan after World War II, when food was scarce, ramen became popular worldwide. How many college students have lived on the cheap noodles in a paper cup, quickly heated in a microwave?

But those cups don’t capture the real ramen of Japan. It’s so simple—wheat noodles served in a broth topped with a variety of protein and veggies like sliced pork, bamboo shoots, dried seaweed, and scallions.

The dish evolved from southern Chinese noodle dishes after the Chinese settled in Yokohama, Japan. You can find all kinds of ramen in Japan and regions have their own specialties. How about pork bone broth from Hakata, soy-flavored chicken broth in Tokyo, Hakodate’s salt-flavored ramen, or the thick flat noodles from Kitakata?

No matter which city I visit, the best places to find ramen are shops that specialize in it. I can’t walk a block in Tokyo without passing a ramen opportunity, but my favorite place to go is an uncomplicated restaurant that sells tons: Kamukura. It's a popular Japan-wide chain that started in Osaka, but sometimes the best local finds are the ones locals actually go to.

First, I order from a ticket machine outside, similar to a McDonald's kiosk. Above is a menu where you can pick a solo bowl of ramen or combinations and add-ons like delicious gyoza. The prices are cheap (with about 150 yen to the US dollar). Yes, that massive value platter is under $7.

After ordering, I stand in line inside to get a seat. Not a table, but a stool at a long counter where I can watch the nimble kitchen turn out bowl after bowl of steaming hot soup like an assembly line. It’s crowded, but the smell of hot broth is intoxicating. It’s not hard to stand there and take in the aromas and listen to the clatter of a fast-moving kitchen.

Don’t be discouraged by the long lines, they move fast. Service is brisk too, and when they set down the bowl, gleaming with liquid gold, it is worth the wait. The whole affair is quick, and I’m done in ten minutes. (Well, maybe 15 because the soup is so damn hot.) Savoring the salty aftertaste, I tell myself this ain’t no dorm room ramen.