The next place I would like to discuss what would become the trip favorite place to eat, and the second place that was visited more then once; in this case the first day after we arrived, once as takeout in the middle, and the last place we went before our journey came to an end. Always excited to try new delicacies, I immediately gravitated towards Ramen Nakamura. It would be after a day of exploration, of cracked open coconuts shared along the boardwalk and exploring the depths of storefronts and attractions. Returning to our hotel the restaurant was literally bustling, as a line was forming outside the door, snaking through the street and stretching out in size. It was a sign that we would be required to join in the assembly; a restaurant with a crowd is a restaurant worth exploring. As we waited, we were able to look through the windows to see two long tables forming an elongated oval with space in the middle, and a sparse collection of seats to border around it. The establishment was small, tucked in and crowded, with everyone focused intently on the bowls in front of them. I was immediately prepared for an experience.
After being called we were quickly seated, and the wait made the exploration of the menu all the more satisfying. It was what I presumed to be very traditional; each bowl of ramen was described in sparse details, with the key differences being the broth and perhaps one change to the ramen’s toppings but nothing else. The possibilities being so endless, I nevertheless went for a pork ramen, as it matched the same kind of ramen I had on an earlier adventure. What struck me as I ordered as well was the brisque service; it was a no nonsense restaraunt as the servers wanted our orders quickly, and to serve us immediately and with no hesitation. The wait of course felt longer then the reality, in the same way we bide our time waiting for a package to arrive or a text to be sent by someone we care about.
Our patience was rewarded immediately; I cannot recall many of details of my pork ramen because upon my first taste time accelerated, as I was thrust unwillingly into a time machine set for the future. The slurping up of noodles assailed my ears but was ignored, for in the moment I did not care that anyone around me could hear my heart made manifest. Flashes of roasted garlic would hit me in the teeth with bursts of ecstasy, threatening to bring me back into a stable timeline and yet I persevered. The cuts of pork fell apart against my dancing bladed chopsticks, and each topping of ginger, onion and menma was quickly heaped into each bite for perfect efficiency..
Then as suddenly as I started, my chopsticks and spoon clinked against the bottom of an empty bowl. Next to me my compatriot stared at myself, then back to their bowl having barely finished one portion of their ox-tail ramen. By any objective measure, this was the pièce de résistance for my taste-buds. It was not, however, the best culinary experience on our adventure. That comes next.
Writing in C Major 