Kevin A. Roberts
Glistening slivers of browned pork belly, bright cabbage, carrot twigs, shrimp, all crowded into a rough ceramic bowl warmed with a milky silk broth and gobs and gobs of those gently kinked noodles. Steamy. Mouthwateringly fragrant. The rehabilitation of ramen continues in St. Louis.
Less than a decade ago, the crinkly noodles were, if not in the immediate family of fast food, at least a close cousin. The stuff of college budget banquets and lunches when the peanut butter jar was empty. Or, Lord help us, crushed and tossed raw onto all manner of “inventive” salads as a kind of desiccated, shredded wheat-crouton topping.
Rumor ramen may have a more sophisticated side were whispers, little more, in culinary conversations. Tales recounted by travelers to Japan, of entire eating establishments devoted to these noodles that looked like recipients of a bad perm job. And of wondrous, luxurious broths that were simultaneously meaty and gloriously unctuous.
Slowly, starting on the coasts, bowls of the stuff began appearing in Japanese restaurants. These were different, definitely not the noodles that came from pressed bricks that sold for about a dollar a gross. These strands of ramen had a satisfying springiness, like great pasta. Flavored with hearty stocks completely unlike the sodium bomb liquids stirred with those powdered packets.
When ramen—real ramen—began appearing in some of St. Louis’ Japanese restaurants, its enthusiasts didn’t pay much attention to detail. They just tucked into those big bowls, slurping. It’s only been very recently some fans have started learning about the regional differences in ramen in Japan, some of the subtleties of broth and ingredients that make a bowl of ramen cooked according to the dictates of tastes in say, northern Japan, different from those of Tokyo.
Kevin A. Roberts
So now, diners here are developing tastes and favorites: Hakata style ramen. Tokyo’s version, salty with soy sauce, simple, filling. Tsukemen ramen, with the noodles dipped in a spicy, vinegary sauce on the side. These and other ramen regional varieties are now available in St. Louis ramen joints. It’s refreshing to have such selection. When we heard about Nagasaki style ramen (right) on a menu at Midtown Sushi & Ramen, however, we were impressed.
If you imagine Japan as being shaped something like the state of California, Nagasaki is about where San Diego would be. It’s the westernmost, southernmost big city in Japan, on the island of Kyushu, which was recently home to the big earthquake.
Nagasaki looks out on the East China Sea. China’s close by, close enough immigration has been an influence in Nagasaki kitchens for a long time. Chinese restaurants there, particularly those specializing in Fujian cuisine, are a popular tourist draw. The story is that at one of them, back during the late 19th century, the chef concocted a noodle dish, chanpon ramen, designed as a cheap way to feed immigrant Chinese students attending colleges in Nagasaki. It quickly became popular; there are lots of chanpon eateries, some of them chains, all over Japan today.
Chanpon is a contrived word—it might have its roots in a Fujian expression meaning an “easy meal.” Probably what first comes to mind when hearing “chanpon” for most Japanese is the alleged danger in mixing different kinds of alcohol in drinking sessions. Chanpon means “mixed.”
The principal distinction of chanpon ramen is that it’s a one-pot recipe. Unlike nearly every other regional style of ramen, where the noodles are cooked separately then added to the broth with other ingredients, Nagasaki style chanpon cooks the noodles in the broth itself. So they take on a distinctive layer of flavor.
Another characteristic of chanpon ramen is the quantity of ingredients. In most styles of ramen, ingredients play, at best, the role of bass guitar in the band: there, but not at the center of things. The lead singer in typical ramen dishes is the noodle itself. In this Nagasaki version, ingredients—and there must be an array of them—play a bigger role. One classic way to judge a bowl of chanpon is to see if the noodles and other ingredients are pretty much a 50/50 balance.
The broth for chanpon ramen is from pork, but crucially, not from the pork-based tonkotsu broth that has recently, delectably, captured the palates of ramen fans. (It’s tonkotsu, by the way. Not tonkatsu. Tonkotsu is “pork bones.” Tonkatsu is “pork cutlet.”) That means chanpon ramen broth hasn’t simmered for the many hours and lacks the thicker, almost syrupy body of a tonkotsu broth. Instead, it’s lighter, more delicate.
So that’s what we were looking for at Midtown Sushi. We were even more hopeful when we heard the chef speaking in that weird Kyushu accented Japanese, saying “okay,” as “yoka-yoka” when a Tokyo Japanese would have said “daijobu.” We weren’t disappointed.
Kevin A. Roberts
A bowl loaded with noodles and an extravagant array of vegetables: onions, carrots, cabbage, along with shrimp, chunks of roasted pork, and fish cake slices. The perfume, heady with pork and ginger. The noodles, slightly thicker than the ones you’re used to, with more texture as well. That texture comes from a kind of baking soda alkaline, toaku, mixed into the dough. It’s like the difference between angel hair and fettucine pastas.
We enjoyed it down to the last sip of the broth.
Midtown Sushi offers some other ramen. Hakata style, with big roasted moons of pork belly. And a kimchi-studded ramen that’s appropriately spicy and garlicky.
There are other Japanese specialties on the menu as well, deep-fried cubes of tofu. Pork and vegetable dumplings; chunks of octopus deep-fried in batter into deliciously, dangerously hot balls. Main courses, typical Japanese café fare like beef and onions in a broth over rice and spiked with pickled ginger, and chicken teriyaki. Oh, and given the name, it shouldn’t be surprised to find sushi, rolls and nigiri sushi at Midtown. It’s all probably fine. We never got to those parts of the menu.
We’ll think about it next visit. Maybe give it some serious contemplation. As we’re enjoying one more bowl of that ramen.
Midtown Sushi & Ramen
3674 Forest Park
314-328-2452
Tue-Sat: 11:30 a.m. - 9:30 p.m.
Sun: 12:00 p.m. - 8:00 p.m.
Closed Mon
