Look. I've had some bloody good bowls of ramen over the years in Saigon. Two of those shops being 100 meters from Mutahiro. On the ferry over from Vung Tau I decided to spend the 2 hours productively flicking through blogs and reviews of Pho, Ramen and Vietnamese street food since i'd be spending a couple more days in the city and needed some bliss. Mutahiro suddenly popped up at the top of quite a few different pages, despite me never having heard of it on previous visits. Intrigued I read on. After ploughing through countless 5/5 reviews, or blogs hammering on about "ramen perfection" I made up my mind to throw my bag into my hotel room and head straight there.
2 hours later I was walking through the tiny alleyways of "Little Japan" in Saigon, a seedy, lively part of town and home to all the best Ramen shops. Danbo was behind me, Tomidaya straight ahead, and Mutahiro appeared at the end of the street down an inconspicuously narrow alley. This wouldn't be a place you happened upon accidentally, you would have to track it down. Eagerness overshadowed by nerves I entered to the rattling shouts of "Irasshaimase!!". Both corners were taken (DAMN) so I had to sit in the middle next to two salarymen grunting into their beers.
The special shoyu was ordered with egg (of course), and a cold glass of water poured to dampen the insane pollution this city sweats out daily.
Sip Sip................... OH MY FREAKING GOD!... Memories came flooding back from the first time's I sipped the holiest of broth's in Tokyo amongst gasps for air, screams of exhortation and the ravaging need to spoon gallons more into your mouth in case you suddenly had a heartattack and wanted this to be your final mouth-memory. This was rich, deep, fatty (but not greasy) heaven. The noodles were actually buckwheat (Soba), so different to regular Ramen noodles, but tasted fantastic despite their slightly softer texture. There was a slice each of pork and chicken, something I had not encountered before. The chicken was some of the moistest, flavoursome chicken I'd ever eaten in a bowl. This must be sous vide? Not to be outdone, the pork shone through with it's delectable thicker cut tenderness and mountains of flavour. I slurped myself into a frenzy without paying any heed to the other people around me in this 12 seat shop. Dizzy with bliss I paid my bill, bowed and thanked all the chefs, and went on my merry way pinching myself to make sure this wasn't a dream.
A collection of short blog posts about my daily bowls.