大黒家 daikokuya: gold minders

by rameniac | 17 Dec 2007

Once upon a time, a budding freelance journalist covered Daikokuya for a Japanese community newspaper. The resulting article, entitled “Black Pork and Blind Love,” naively extolled the gyoza ("the best in town!"), and the nascent ramen shop’s use of Berkshire pork chashu. Back in those days, kurobuta was virtually unheard of in this country, gas was seventy cents a gallon, and modern-day food bloggers were still sucking down six-for-a-dollar packages of Maruchan, college kids with barely the disposable income to afford the parsley sprinkles atop a Michael Cimarusti foam-jaculation.

This aspiring food writer (who shall remain nameless) somehow found himself in a relationship with Daikokuya’s manager, and it should go without saying that when one dates a ramen girl, he pretty much marries into the shop clan: her brother who makes the gyoza, the goateed guy with the tattoos, the part-time recording engineer…

But I digress. The resultant article saw print as a color spread and earned a prominent spot on Daikouya’s shop window. Local rameniacs were happy and all was right with the world. That is, until one Pulitzer-winning food critic ate his way across town, bumped the old review off the display with his own glowing treatise, and turned an entire block of First Street into an outdoor waiting area for Giant Robot subscribers.

Nowadays, it’s nearly impossible to get a seat at Little Tokyo’s most popular ramen shop without an hour-long wait. Downtown office workers monopolize the lunch shift (don’t even think about a quick slurp while on jury duty), and come nights, the place packs in Arts District hipsters like sardines in a tin box.

In the wake of prosperity, Daikokuya’s owner has since opened several more restaurants; ensconced in his trademark Humvee, Koyama-san now surveys a budding empire that includes an izakaya, a karaoke bar, and even a bento shop in the hinterlands of the San Gabriel Valley.

However, it is the noodle that remains his bread and butter, and night after night, this greasy spoon kitchen on First Street continues to ladle up generous portions of “Daikoku Raumen,” a hybrid shoyu-tonkotsu bowl with a distinct porky aroma and a hint of heady, smoky funk. Foodies occasionally decry the consistency; apparently the chefs began fussing with the recipe in an effort to accommodate the influx of new customers. But on my last few outings (and trust me, I know the place intimately), Daikoku Raumen is more or less the same as I remembered it. Good, hearty, and a bit over hyped given the “Jonathan Gold effect” his recommendations tend to experience.

Staunch supporters of Daikokuya often cite the richness of its kotteri soup (you have to request extra oil) as evidence of its brilliance, but the adventurous few who dare venture into the South Bay (come on, it’s really not all that far) may well prefer the offerings at Santouka and Asa, and even Hakata Shin-Sen-Gumi.

It is Daikokuya’s noodle that I have never quite managed to get behind. Their soup is distinctive and rich, but the actual noodle is generic yellow strand, straight from JFC importers and better suited to a traditional shoyu or shio soup.

Still, it’s a minor quibble in an otherwise quality dish, a decent alternative to the generic miasma of ramen served in town, and certainly the best option for those unwilling to venture outside of Los Angeles proper. The toppings in a bowl of Daikoku Raumen are generous and luscious; they were one of the few shops around to serve hanjuku half-boiled eggs, until one day the undercooked yolks apparently scared off some less-adventurous diners.

Daikokuya’s side dishes (barring the sushi bowls) are spectacular. Their arabiki sausage is in fact the “best in town,” plump, fatty, and nearly bursting out of their casings. As for the aforementioned gyoza, it is exceedingly flavorful and may arguably be the king of the hill.  In theory it’s certainly a cut above the rest, and if imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, Tokyo Café, right around the corner, may well have raided Daikokuya’s dumpster in devising their own rectangular knockoffs. Of note however - my last order came out a bit floury and undercooked. I chalk it up to the rush, and the missteps a small, neighborhood restaurant often experiences when it’s gotten a little too popular for its britches.

But that’s what often happens with success. I give Daikokuya credit for trying, but it’s also why I hope a few of my other usual ramen joints stay a bit under the radar. Unless of course, you read about them here first.