Cold rainy days call for hot soup. Toothsome noodles. A slice of braised pork. Those three elements spell ramen with a capital R. During last week’s torrential rainstorms, I explored some of the Orange County ramen joints I mentioned in the post called Ramentown USA. I’ll post specific reviews later this week.

I consider the dish a soup with noodles, as opposed to noodles with soup. I make this distinction because the soup is my focus. Any ramen guy can buy noodles and boil them al dente. Does he* know how to build a broth, and make it great day after day?
* Props to the lady ramen guys. The other 99.8% of ramen guys are guys.

Distinguishing ramen as a soup dish serves a second purpose, of defining its regional style. The most common style originated in Tokyo, defined by a clear broth flavored with soy sauce (shoyu). A miso flavored soup comes from the northern island of Hokkaido. The murky, fat-slicked pork broth from Kyushu is also known as tonkotsu (pork bone) soup. The fourth major style of soup simply flavored with salt is called shio ramen. I’m a tonkotsu soup guy, but some places make a damn fine clear soup, too.

Broth is the foundation for the soup. Shops post signs proudly proclaiming how many hours it takes to make their broth. Technique is critical, and secretive. Pork leg bones might be cracked with a hammer to expose the marrow or not, depending on the desired result. To make a clear broth, bones are simmered gently to draw out flavors, but not the fats and proteins that would cloud it. Tonkotsu broth is boiled vigorously to render the fatty marrow that colors it a pallid, off white. Either way, some of the broth might be set aside to start the next day’s batch.

The cook adds another layer of obsessively flavored seasonings to this foundation. The slice of pork served with your bowl was braised in a soy sauce based liquid. Like Chinese “red cooked” pork, some of this liquid is saved to cook the next day’s pork, and the rest flavors the soup broth. Like Shrek, a ramen soup has many layers.

Vegetarians be advised: if yer vegetable ramen don’t say it’s truly vegetarian, it ain’t.

Noodles vary in style, but not as much as the soup. Ramen noodles are fresh wheat and egg noodles. Some will be fat as spaghettini, others thin as capellini. Some will be frizzy, some straight. Ask for “kata-men” to get it cooked firmer than normal. The noodles will continue to cook and soften in your hot soup. Places that hand-stretch their own are rare even in Japan, but worth seeking out to witness the zenith of obsessive-compulsive disorder.

Want to know more? Worldramen.net will tell you everything you’d possibly want to know about ramen: the variations, photographic examples of the best in Japan, and where to get ramen around the globe.

Then go rent Tampopo. It’s the classic food movie about ramen. And movies.

If I tell you about a place whose food I don’t love, do I do you a disservice? The chef came out to say hi, and wants to hear feedback. Should I give her my honest, somewhat negative opinion?

What would Buddha do?

A Vietnamese restaurant just opened in my neighborhood, and my first visit underwhelmed me. Really nice owner is making a go of it and I want her to succeed. But the food is overpriced for what it is, and not as good as others places. $7 for banh mi might fly in a neighborhood used to paying that much for a Quizno’s sub. But any number of bakeries in Little Saigon sell a killer banh mi for $1.75.

We started with their excellent coffees: I had a Viet coffee with sweetened condensed milk, Katy had the latte. They’ve invested in some serious coffee equipment, and they know how to use it. Very good stuff.

We tried a couple dishes: the fried spring rolls, house special pho, and a roast pork banh mi. The spring rolls were nicely done - served with the classic accompaniements of lettuce leaf, mint, and fish sauce to dip in, these were competent, but not mind blowing. Total for lunch ran $35. Kinda spendy, in other words.

The banh mi was good, the pork more so than the baguette sourced from Gala Bakery in Long Beach. Baguettes are at their best very briefly after they’re baked, so any banh mi shop that buys their bread elsewhere starts with a big handicap. The roast pork is very well seasoned with a slightly sweet glaze, and expertly grilled.

The pho needs work. The broth is too sweet for my tastes, the brisket tough and leathery. Brisket needs to cook for a long time to cook tenderly, and that didn’t happen with mine. Perhaps the kitchen still needs to work out the kinks. Until they get sorted out, I’d choose Pho Bac on Barranca Pkwy for pho in this part of Irvine.

I don’t claim to be any kind of expert on Viet cuisine, but I’ve eaten enough to know a restaurant that caters to Viet clientele from one that doesn’t. Someone who’s intimidated by Little Saigon but wants Viet food can have a good meal here, love the cuisine, and explore further. That was how it worked for me when I had my first Thai meal in a suburban, gringo-ized restaurant. And perhaps that’s the customer that Nam Viet seeks. Try it for yourself and decide.

Nam Viet
15455 Jeffrey Rd
Irvine
949-552-5500

Ever wanted to order off of the specials menu hand-written in Chinese in a restaurant where nobody else is speaking English? The serious food enthusiast should order a copy of James D McCawley’s The Eater’s Guide to Chinese Characters.

McCawley’s a linguistics professor teaching the written language found on menus, complete with pratice exercises. He doesn’t attempt to teach any of the spoken dialects, which is a whole different ballgame. My resolution for this year is to understand at least half of the specials menu in the local restaurants that cater to the Chinese community here in Irvine.

Almost every herb and spice used in European and Asian cuisines is well photographed and described in Jill Norman’s Herbs and Spices: The Cook’s Reference. Publishing color photos on every page of a book is terribly expensive, so I hope Norman sells enough copies to keep this volume in print!

This culinary encylopedia illustrates hundreds of herbal ingredients both common and unusual. I recently purchased Vietnamese corn tea, which contains pandan leaf. What’s that? Norman’s got it covered. If you’re an eggheaded type like me, then this book’s for you.

Oh - for disclosure’s sake - I am now pimping Amazon, or they are pimping me. I’m recommending these books because I sincerely like them, not because I want the nickel I earn from you clicking through and buying stuff from them. So though I feel a tad whorish, I bought these books from Amazon, and I feel good about sending you there too.