The three of us jumped in an Uber and snaked our way through the insanity that is the streets of Ho chi Minh. I had read that this place was supposedly serving up the quintessential authentic Japanese shoyu Ramen in town. We spent the better part of 20 minutes walking in circles inside the small Japanese enclave, but finally we managed to find it before they closed for an afternoon break. The excitement was palpable. Our first real ramen experience in Vietnam. Lets see how they stand up against other countries in the region.
First impressions were great. 3 jolly Japanese chefs all small-talking in the kitchen whilst a salaryman slurped to his hearts content and offered the warmest praise whilst leaving. The bowls arrived. First sip: HEAVEN! This was up there with some of the best Shoyu Ramen I have ever tasted. The broth was deep, fatty, full of umami. The egg, perfectly cooked, the noodles al-dente, the pork melt-in-your-mouth. The Sapporo beer did nothing to diminish the charming meal. With full stomachs we gladly paid the 4 Euros and headed out into Saigon's belly with fresh optimism and belief that life is perhaps a gift, and not a chore.
The quest to find a decent bowl of ramen in every country on earth.