Ramen As A Spiritual Education.
I met a couple last weekend and the Muslim partner wished his parents pushed him harder to learn how to read the traditional Arabic script.
I implied that my Mandarin software came with a hard install - 'hard' because I meant there's no way to learn the language 'happily'.
Yea, I'd hate them for that. But when I grow up I'd thank them.
Yea, I'm not sure about that. Name one other thing you love about yourself now that you hated when you were a child. (Obviously I didn’t say that out loud.)
However, I do not deny the advantages of knowing a second language.
Did you know, plagiarism software can't detect translated work yet? So if you’re in uni, and have access to academic work from China, Taiwan, Japan, France ... I'm going to stop here.
All I'm saying is, when I was in high school, I translated a webpage of the assassination of JFK from English to Mandarin overnight, and received an ‘acceptable’ grade for my social study subject.
Thirty years later, how have I furthered this superpower to improve my life?
I read a book about ramen, in mandarin, translated from Japanese.
The double-edged sword.
Knowing two languages, means you're also susceptible to twice the amount of marketing.
Do you know who loves Japan more than Melbourne though, Taiwan.
The book title is 'Ramen as an Education’ in Japanese, (the Chinese translated it to 'The Spirit of Ramen'), it is the first-ever critical and commentary book about ramen by Ken Aoki, a graphic designer for ramen shops. He designed the brand identity for Nagi and now famous Michelin-starred Tsuta.
Just writing the last paragraph hurts me so much, because it shows the ramen and design industry in Japan is large enough to have a ramen brand specialist, and energetic enough to have a book about the industry.
Let me have a look at Melbourne's ramen scene.
*crickets*
Anyway, what I'm sharing below isn't an actual translation, but a second-class paraphrasing.
You know what, I could’ve cut all this preface and claimed the following opinions as mine.
It's not like there's plagiarism software to track me anyway.
Ramen and curry are often seen as the national cuisine of Japan, but there are major differences. Ramen is like sports in college; while curry is like arts and literature department. The starting point of all ramen owners is to be on a top 100 whatever list, to be on the Michelin guide, to branch out, to be successful, to have franchises overseas. So they prep, learn and take out a loan, only to compete to prove themselves. The customers are a reflection - many boasts about how many bowls, how fast, how many restaurants, how far, how long they've queued, but curry fans aren't like that.
A ramen shop owner confided in me that he's envious of curry shop owners. Their shops always look so modern - the chair and curtains reflects their personality. Curry shop owners are usually happy to simply sustain a living.
Just like the art department, before an exhibition, all the prep is done and completed, they're simply there to present themselves to the world.
If you're buying ramen tickets from a vending machine. Eight times out ten, the top left item is their signature dish.
The Japanese call the soup spoon renge 蓮華, which came from the word chirirenge 散蓮華 - scattered lotus petals.
The spoon looks like a single lotus petal on the bowl.
(H: so poetic it hurts.)
The soup tastes different when drinking from the renge compared to directly from the bowl. It focuses the taste on the tongue whereas when you drink from the bowl, the lips and mouth and all stimulated.
That's not to say we should all drink from the bowl because some ramen has a thick layer of pork fat or flavoured oil on top.
The material of the renge - wooden, porcelain, plastic, also affects the taste of the soup.
A ramen shop owner even said the best way to drink the soup is to slurp together with the noodles.
There's no right answer.
For me, the ramen restaurant owner is the rock star.
Eating ramen at a restaurant is like attending a concert; eating at home is like listening to CD.
A completely different feeling.
A date who doesn't slurp, but bites and lets the noodles fall back into the bowl in a pitter-patter manner, is an instant turn-off.
The best customer isn't the one that frequents often; but the one who would put the restaurant and owner first.
I personally call the action of lifting up the noodles 'pulling out'. (H: hehe) Think about it, we're not just lifting the noodles vertically, there's a 'pulling' action we apply. I keep this in mind because where we 'pull' the noodles from the bowl affects the taste. If there's some menma, or yuzu, or chilli miso where you pull the noodles, the flavour will be different.
A restaurant owner once said something that surprised me:
“That's not ramen; that's a cuisine.”
Which means he didn't think of ramen as a part of normal cooking.
It's true, even though ramen is considered a national dish, it is not considered as part of 'washoku' - Japanese cuisine, which was listed as a UNESCO cultural heritage.
If you think about it, the way ramen stock is made is totally against how Japanese restaurants make 'dashi'.
In a way, if ramen is part of Japanese cuisine, it’s won’t be ramen.
Ramen is ramen.
Ok, break time.
The downside of understanding more than one language is that you get annoyed with the constant repetition.
I remember going crazy in Hong Kong's train station in 2008.
“Please hold on the rail!” “请紧握扶手” “請緊握扶手” “しっかりと握ってください”)
Ramen is basically a huge slice of historical and cultural identity for the country.
Melbourne, in a good and bad way will never be that simple-minded.
Because we also have pho, laksa, Lanzhou noodles, wanton noodles, dan dan noodles, char kuey teow, malatang, Pad Thai ...
Bunch of kids going me me me me me.
They’re annoying, but I guess when you grow up, you get choices?
I wish to share more, but all this paraphrasing is making me hungry.
I’m sure the book will be translated into English eventually.
But by then I'll be way ahead of you.
So don't envy me for knowing a second or third language, blame yourself for partying your wonder years away, while I memorised Confucious while stress eating in tears.
I'm pretty sure the sex and drugs and alcohol were amazing though.
We all have to accept that something we hate about ourselves now, came from something we loved as children.