By Rafael Mateo
Ramen is the soul food of Japan. And New York houses many places of worship for this national comfort food. Competition drives the bad versions away, and inspires stylistic differences to fit particular tastes. Our choices are many – salt, soy, miso, pork – the basis for the all important broth which keeps the ingredients warm and flavored. Much like the Spanish tortilla, it can be made 100 different ways and everyone’s recipe is considered more correct. There is a baseline of acceptance, however, a meeting point where the public can agree on its authenticity.
A religious experience such as ramen should require a temple, and it is here that Ippudo strikes a discordant nerve. The waiting area has a bar that cannot possibly house the sometimes one hour queue of people waiting to bust in the joint. But this is the highlight, for just a few meters in, patrons are bombarded with the traditional recognition from the entire staff, which would be fine save for battling the blaring noise from the house speakers. Add the hungry pangs from those awaiting seating, and you have a delirious over sensatory experience. Next time I’ll bring my Ipod and Bose headset. The room is disjointed in its design with several communal seating areas, mirrors, and white walls with Japanese lettering. It is as if the architect conceived the décor while buzzing at a club overdosed with shochu. It is very difficult to concentrate on the ramen, and the slurping of the noodles (a very curiously soothing sound) is sorely missed. Perhaps the purpose is for turnover, something in which the staff is very well trained. The food comes out on point, as a dizzying array of servers ensure brusque expediency as each dish is consumed. Stay for dessert? Check please.
The menu is constructed to delivery a healthy dose of sweet and savory flavors to evoke the umami taste bud. Take the age dashi, fried tofu, lightly pankoed with a creamy interior, floating in a smoky broth with radish and mountain yam. The sensory overload begins here, with an addictive combination of textures and aromas, a mass produced dish but also well executed. And much of the food here is well executed. Rather than sitting in the house of a ramen master, you are on an assembly line where the food is correct and well constructed. You never feel the hands of a chef per se. But in keeping up with the high volume of diners, a chef would burn out in less time than it takes to finish one bowl of ramen. Ippudo is like the Shake Shack. The Shake Shack takes a fast food concept – the burger – and elevates it for the masses. Ippudo has taken fast food ramen to great heights, but an ethereal, spiritual, zen-like experience it cannot deliver.
There are other classic considerations to start with on the menu, such as the satisfyingly-fried kara age or crispy shrimp tempura with spicy mayo, the eat as much as you can talk edamame, and the tingle-evoking shishito peppers. There are house made buns too, filled with Berkshire pork or chicken, echoing David Chang’s perfect street food at Momofuku. These are not as honed, but delicious nonetheless. Better to order the pork belly, which delivers a jolt of why pork is king. All of these dishes can be washed down with the standard cold draft beers or the short but good sake list.
Which brings us to the ramen, which overall is quite good. As I am not a big fan of miso-based or shoyu-based ramen, I will concentrate on the pork bone style. At Ippudo there is a choice of two, Shiomaru and Akamaru. The Akamaru boasts a thicker broth, and it is quite creamy, sufficiently rich and worthy to marinate the firm noodles, cabbage, Berkshire pork and other ingredients adorning the deep bowl. Arrangement of ingredients is also important, but does not seem a priority here. There isn’t much pork in the dish, but what’s there provides the right rush. A common complaint about ramen is that half way through the bowl, there only remains broth as the filling gets consumed first. Ippudo provides a little lime paste to mix in at the end, a very clever addition which altered the flavor of the broth just enough to keep things interesting.
I did have a glimmer of that deeply satisfied feeling upon finishing. A sigh of relief and self-satisfaction, a rub of the belly and a leaning back on the chair – a sure sign that the ramen has done its job and taken effect. But then there’s all that noise and wild architecture and people, and I am brought back immediately to earth, or the East Village for that matter, anxious to walk off the aftermath of a bowl of ramen.
ROOSTER RATING: 
PPP (Price Per Person): $$
