No Flavor Packets in this Top Ramen
An Experience Like No Other in Tokyo Japan
There’s no place I’d rather be than in the world’s biggest city for great eats at any time of day or night. Oh how I miss Tokyo.
As I sit here in my little hotel room in Kyoto at almost six in the morning waiting for the train station to open so I can skedaddle outta here and move onto my next stop, Osaka, things just aren’t up to snuff. I’ve been spoiled.
While many of Kyoto’s temples and shrines are havens for sleepless tourists like me who like to get out in the early morning hours, its cafes seem to cater to the wake-up-late crowd. If your aim is like mine, to walk an empty street, take the first train out of the station, or board the early bus, don’t count on eating out.
With nothing decent open until nine, my breakfasts the past three mornings have been yogurt, mixed nuts, and a little fruit. Healthy? Yes. Filling? Not so much. Leaves one wanting more.
While finding basic provisions in Japan is all made very easy thanks to the ubiquitous convenience store (“konbini”), the cheap thrill of a three dollar breakfast can only get me so far down the road, or up the hill in today’s case, especially when my morning joe is also from a konbini.
Thankfully, I’ll be saddled up with some seaweed potato chips loaded with electrolytes and a good strong bottle of high octane cold brew to top off the tank as I hike up the mountain this morning. I also know with complete confidence there will be vending machines at every flat spot along the way offering plenty of refueling opportunities and showcasing every snack and beverage known to mankind. I’m in Japan after all. Power outlets do well out here in woods. Natural habitat! LEDs and LCDs offer bright and blinky inspiration to those who catch glimpses of their flickering lights through the thick forest along the trails up ahead.
Best makeshift convenience store parfait not withstanding, I do very much miss my Tokyo breakfasts. There’s probably no better city in the world for a jet lagged traveler to find a decent meal to start the day at dark o’thirty. When I could no longer sleep at a very early 3 or 4 in the morning, all I would need to do is roll out of bed, throw on my easy clothes, slip on the flip flops, shuffle a few blocks down the street, and slump down for a nice big hot bowl of ramen soup.
You heard that right, folks, ramen for breakfast! One of the best spots for a righteous early morning bowl is at Ichiran Ramen. There are several scattered around Tokyo, and over the years, they’ve grown into an international chain with more than 80 outlets around the globe (sadly, their outlets in Kyoto open at the late hour of 9 AM).
I can hear some of you now from across the Pacific. “Really…a chain?” Yeah, I know that you’ve got your great little underground one-off spot down that back alleyway that no one’s ever heard of that’s far superior to this cheap lowly ramen that will surely rock my taste buds. Cool. I’d love to try it sometime.
What may come as a surprise to you is that I’m not only here to rave about the ramen itself, but more about the mechanics of the restaurant. I’m not even going to proclaim that Ichiran will become one of your go-to favorite spots. However, even if there’s no hope that it’ll compare to your favorite haunt, if given the opportunity, all I ask is that you go check one out. At least once.
Eating at an Ichiran isn’t just about slurping up a big bowl of delicious ramen in all its full glory and goodness, with steaming hot pork belly floating loftily above a rich miso broth chock-full of thinly sliced green onions with tender noodles lurking beneath precious bits of garlic dodging the clutches of unruly toppings like kikurage mushrooms, dried seaweed, soft boiled egg, and a dollop of their top secret recipe hot sauce slowly dispersing generous helpings of its morning zing.
No, here it’s all about the experience. I haven’t found anywhere else like it. And that’s why it’s so wildly successful. Word of warning though. This is not an undiscovered place.
The first time I ate at an Ichiran, I made a grave tactical error and headed for their nearest outlet at 7 o’clock in the evening. I waited for almost two hours before I was seated. Silly me! I’ve since wised up…“Use your jet lag, Padawan. Do as others do not!”
On the first morning of my next sleep-starved trip to Tokyo, I headed to an Ichiran at four in the morning. Was I surprised to see a dozen people in line ahead of me? Um. Yes. I was, indeed. But then I realized that most of them were closing out their raucous Saturday night with giant bowls of ramen to hopefully circumvent an all but guaranteed Sunday afternoon hangover.
Next trip, I dialed it in a bit further. I figured that I’d delay just an hour or two longer. Say five or six in the morning. All the late night partiers should’ve already boarded the first train back home leaving all those Ichirans mostly to myself…Bingo! At the crack of dawn, the line looked like this:
Hacked! Let the fun begin!
Dining here starts well before you pick up your chopsticks. It’s a whole process that’s always the same and is all part of the experience that I’ve learned to crave. You stand in line, get to the machine, plunk in your coins, press the button next to the picture that looks the best, get your ticket, and follow the waitstaff to your little mini private stall that they call a “Ramen Focus Booth.”
Here, sitting on a bar stool in a small cave, you complete the process by filling out a tiny slip of paper to fine tune every little detail to get your ramen just the way you like it: noodle firmness, garlic level, broth strength, and more.
Your mini personal dining room is no bigger than a voting box and just about as private. Complete with wooden partitions all around as you lean into your booth, you’ve got your own little hidey hole. Perfect for a groggy sleep deprived traveler who just wants to eat without any idle chit chat.
After passing your order sheet through a tiny window in front of you at belly button level, a window shade drops down to close off the space and allow you to fully settle into your new home away from home as you wait for your food to arrive. No small talk with strangers next to you. You can’t even see them unless you strain to poke your head out of your cave. When your order’s ready, the little window shade in front of you opens up with just enough space for a pair of bodiless hands to slide your ramen out to you. Zip! The shade lowers back down and you’re left to your own devices.
If there was ever an ideal breakfast joint for night owls, introverts, the hungover, the “OK but first coffee” clan, or the just-gotta-get-something-in-my-stomach crowd, I’m telling you, this is the spot.
No faces, no eye contact, no sideways glances. Just you, yourself, and thou...and your ramen.
There’s no better remedy for an ugly, dark, brash, fussy, blurry, drag-butt, frizz frazzy early morning hour of a jet lagged start to a long upside down day on the opposite side of the globe than a big, hot, healthy, hearty, filling bowl of Ichiran ramen while sitting in your own private cubby hole where you can chow down, sweat it out, and flip flop back to a steaming hot shower so that you can struggle through those first few hours of your day in survival mode, all made just a wee bit easier by a stomach that’ll surely be fuller than any size parfait you can build from scrappy spare parts you might find at your local corner convenience store.
Just remember a single world to mumble as you schlep down the block on that first Tokyo morning in a heavily sleep deprived state: Ichiran.
Find one, drag your butt in there, and slurp it down. Then get on with your business.
Back to my breakfast. Yogurt’s almost gone. Got a train to catch.