There’s Always Room for Ramen

by Connie Le

When I was younger, my parents and I stuck to a pretty healthy, non-gluttonous diet. To them, a bowl of rice stacked high with vegetables and a side of meat was the epitome of a satisfying and nourishing meal; McDonalds and Domino’s rarely graced our table.

But there was one exception, one highsodium, high-carb package that had its own shelf in the pantry: ramen.

Boxes of Shin Ramyun from the local Asian supermarket sat front and center, waiting to be cooked when time was of the essence or when groceries were running low for the week. The bright red bowls bring me to being a kid and taking bullet trains from Shanghai to Guilin in China to visit my grandparents. In the early mornings, as the train sped away from the city and into the farmlands, almost everyone would line up at the hot water stations to cook ramen for breakfast, the delicious smell of spices wafting down the corridors.

Now, years later, I still love the smell of ramen because it reminds me of the excitement and happiness that it brought me as a kid. This guilty pleasure still lives on in my college cupboards, with packages of Jin, Samyang, and the classic Shin stacked high. I turn to ramen in my happiest and saddest moments, on my busiest days or while spending a lazy Sunday watching a movie. No matter the situation, it never ceases to bring me joy, even if that joy comes with a hefty nutritional price. Topped off with a fried egg and green onions, nothing can boost my mood quite as fast as a bowl of ramen. Although I enjoy making and eating packaged ramen from the comfort of my couch, there is something amazing about devouring up a fresh, authentic bowl of ramen in restaurants ranging from mom-and-pop shops to internationally renowned businesses. My favorite, tonkotsu ramen, consists of beautifully chewy noodles steeped in an amazing pork broth alongside traditional toppings like sliced chashu pork, scallions, tare, nori, and a delicious soft boiled egg. While living in New York City two summers ago, I visited Ichiran, a famous Japanese ramen food-service business with only a few iconic shops in the United States. Even though I was just sitting in a little booth in the biggest city in America, I felt transported back to those early mornings on the bullet trains. Sure, they were entirely different types of ramen prepared in entirely different ways, but I will always associate it with those guilty pockets of sodium-infused happiness from my childhood.