For our second ramen of the year (shortly after which we proceeded to lose count of what number ramen of the year it was) we opted for a place known for their traditional style. They make their own noodles, rolling them out using a large bamboo rod– in fact, you can see the bamboo they use hanging on the behind the counter.
The noodles come out with a fantastic crinkle and had a different flavor than normal ramen shops usually sport; even as a foreigner, it felt nostalgic. To me the ramen reminded me of egg noodles in a Jewish chicken soup, with extra schmaltz. In the end, the chicken oil on top was a bit much for me, so it wasn’t totally my thing, but I can really understand why people would line up for it. Let’s be honest, I’m rarely a chicken soup kinda lady. Still, I regret nothing; it was well worth a taste and helped me fend off the bronchial infection I was wrestling for a while during february!