Ramen

It pains me to know that for most people in the English speaking world, ramen brings to mind three-minute snacks laced with artificial flavoring and msg. I do respect Momofuku Ando, the creator of instant noodles, as one of the most innovative and motivated businessmen of post-war Japan, but unfortunately the convenience over quality of the instant noodle fails to capture the glory that is true ramen.

Ramen, sometimes referred to as “Chinese noodles”, is one of the foods I miss the most when I’m away from Japan. Imagine slurping perfectly firm noodles out of a bowl of hot, oily soup, occasionally interrupted by slices of rich roasted pork. A complicated aroma of soy sauce, ginger, browned meat, and a fresh heaping of spring onions fills your nose, and every bite is garnished with a generous addition of freshly crushed garlic. Just thinking about it makes me drool. 

Yakisoba

Columbus Day Weekend, 2008.  The place: Candlewood Lake, Connecticut.  The cast of characters: ten thesis-crazed Amherst students looking for a little R&R.  We spent four days at a friend's house on the lake, surrounded by sparkling water and fiery New England autumn hills, doing our best to forget about the work awaiting us back at school.  We slept until noon and spent the afternoons drinking beer and lounging on the dock.

And, taking advantage of the huge and elegantly equipped kitchen, we cooked.  We cooked like the hungry young fiends we were, overwhelmed with delight at our temporary freedom from dining-hall blandness.  We bought everything we could get our hands on at the local Costco, and put together elaborate communal dinners full of fresh vegetables and bright flavors.  And by far the most successful meal we had that weekend was our friend Shaylon's yakisoba.