ラーメン日本 ramen nippon: reseda, later

by rameniac | 04 Nov 2006

Or more like, “see ya later.” Because I never have to go back to Ramen Nippon, ever again. Well never say never. But it’s definitely at the back of the queue now.

Based on hype from my dining companion’s Japanese co-worker, we decided to investigate this purported ramen oasis in the San Fernando Valley hinterlands (quite a drive from central Los Angeles).  Thirty minutes and many miles later, we pulled into a tiny parking lot in a tiny strip mall in Reseda, best known as the fictional Daniel LaRusso’s stomping, er, kicking grounds. Come on, anyone remember The Karate Kid? Daniel was the poor kid from Reseda and the Elizabeth Shue character, the rich girl from the hills of Encino. In short, had Mr. Miyagi been a real person, he probably would have eaten at Ramen Nippon. Rest in peace, Pat Morita. I hope you never went there.

Tucked into the corner of the mall, a gleaming white noren flaps gently at Ramen Nippon’s entrance. Enter and you’ll find a clean little ramen joint with a pleasant-looking counter area, a few tables, and posters of pop Americana (Elvis, James Dean) decorating the walls. Innocuous enough. The menu is comprised of your standard ramen choices: shoyu, miso, and shio, with spicy and topping variants. Side dishes like gyoza and fried rice can be added to your ramen order, at a cheaper price I guess, to make a ‘combo’ meal.

Our Japanese friend had recommended one of the spicy variations thought we couldn’t remember exactly which one.  My dining companion popped for a spicy miso ramen. I settled for a regular shoyu-based chashu ramen and a side of gyoza. The true test of an assari-kei ramen shop is its shoyu broth, plain and simple. In MOST cases. On that front, Ramen Nippon fails. Spectacularly. My god was it awful. Amazingly bland, formless shoyu broth. Noodles that fattened into spaghetti over time. Chashu (why did I even bother?) that was dry and unspectacular, and baby bok choy that the kitchen had substituted for spinach, apparently in light of the recent e. coli spinach scare, which would have only affected bagged spinach anyway. Was that what they had been using?

I really can’t find anything positive about this place, and I can’t imagine wanting to eat here unless you live in the immediate vicinity and you’re sick of the Arby’s roast beef sandwiches across the street:

A table of customers complained about a forgotten order and a waitress justified it by saying “we’re very busy right now.” Mistakes can happen, but the restaurant didn’t seem particularly full.

A small boy reached for a book from the manga shelf and jostled another waitress, knocked the ramen spoon right out of an order she was carrying. They need to reposition the bookshelf, further away from the kitchen door.

The woman at the table next to ours ate her ramen WITH A FORK. LIKE SPAGHETTI. WINDING IT AROUND HER FORK. I can’t explain this, but it pissed me off nonetheless.

The side of altogether unremarkable gyoza comprised only 4 pieces; at $3.25, it cost about the same as a full portion of 5 or 6 pieces elsewhere. At least my dining companion found some joy in her spicy miso ramen when she discovered a “secret” to Ramen Nippon’s recipe: real miso beans! She speculated that they made their own miso paste. I guess they get a bit of credit for that, but I tried her soup for myself and frankly, it was just OK. Better than my shoyu ramen for sure, but still, nothing to brag about. Assuming she had the same spaghetti-like noodles as I had, I doubt her bowl was much more passable than mine.

Upon leaving she turned to me and remarked, “I think I know why Y--- really likes this place.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Because it’s really clean and has an A rating.” So long, Reseda. See ya later. Or not.