〇一 maru ichi noodle house: black is bountiful

by rameniac | 10 Apr 2007

Special investigator rameniac on the scene. My sensors are picking up high levels of paranormal activity in the area. Winchester Mansion. The Santa Cruz Mystery Spot. Maru Ichi Noodle House in Mountain View, California, an eerily pleasant town with a disproportionate number of virginal male software engineers. Mortgages that are out of this world. Quite an anomaly indeed. I’m going to need backup. I’ll fill you in when you get here. Lock and load your chopsticks.

Ok here’s the lowdown: a strange black substance is oozing out of my ramen. Maybe it’s an oil slick, or Venom from Spiderman 3. Maybe someone emptied a fountain pen into my soup when I wasn’t looking - ink spots that blend and break with every swish of the spoon, every slurp of the thin white noodles. Remember the makkurokurosuke, those little black dust creatures in My Neighbor, Totoro? That big bathing blob in Spirited Away? Ancient Japanese ghosts have possessed my pork bone broth. Somebody call the local exorcist.

What’s that? There’s a logical explanation behind all this? Ever the skeptic, I see. But you’re right. It’s kuro ma yu from Hitoyoshi, Japan. Browned garlic oil, characteristic of Kumamoto ramen, imparting a fragrant, toasted ninniku flavor when paired with the smooth tonkotsu soup.

But that’s not the only thing that’s strange around here. See those cases in the corner? Maru Ichi actually makes its own noodles. Come back during the day and you can watch the chef in his storefront nook, forming and feeding dough through the cutting machine like a pizza maestro tossing the day’s pies. They’re good noodles too - firm, white, and unrisen, a few nanometers thicker than their Hakata cousins, authentically Kumamoto in structure and design and most importantly, mouth-feel. Talk about mysterious phenomena; noodles like these, outside of Japan,  are as rare as the Loch Ness monster.

So, then, are the toppings. Especially in the deluxe “Maruichi” ramen, whether you opt for the kuro “black” soup or the straightforward tonkotsu pork bone. Properly luscious buta kakuni braised pork is available as a ramen topping. I haven’t encountered this since Kyushu Jangara, although it appears to be a trend in Silicon Valley noodle shops. Throw in a generous heap of fresh mentaiko (spicy cod roe) and you’ve teleported to the Ariake Sea.

Alas, there’s a catch. Maru Ichi Noodle House gets big points for its authentic Kumamoto-style noodles and excellent toppings. But the soup itself lacks the punch and grit of proper Kyushu-style tonkotsu;  it’s forgivably thin, but unfortunately far too bland to be much of a contender. If anything, the black garlic oil overwhelms the flavor and buries everything under a mild, scented funk, neutralizing what precious porky musk might have been brewing in the bowl.

The official investigative assessment? File this one under “mystery solved.” And opt for the deluxe tonkotsu, as opposed to the touted “kuro” ramen. If you really must sample that strange black oil, ask if they can ease off a bit or serve it on the side. Then again, maybe the staff, at this strange little noodle shop in this strange little town, knows something we don’t. Darkness is afoot. Maybe the oil… has a mind of its own?