Boston Goes Berserk for a Bowl of Noodles: Thoughts on the Recent Ramen Craze

Boston has been buzzing lately about ramen, thanks to a couple of chefs from famed modern Japanese restaurant O Ya who recently decided to start a pop-up called Guchi's Midnight Ramen. Their bright idea? Serve a beautiful bowl of ramen late at night every couple of weeks to a small group of aficionados, using the idle kitchens and dining rooms of friendly local restaurants. The concept took off, so much so that its first event open to the general public sold out online in literally 30 seconds. In the wake of this frenzy, Ken Oringer's Uni Sashimi Bar announced it would start serving late-night ramen on Thursday through Saturday, and Myers + Chang started serving ramen at lunchtime.

In the runup to Guchi's premier event (by invitation only, held for friends and media types at Bondir), its second night (the fast-sellout one, held at Sportello), and afterward, the local food press had a field day. Would-be attendees who got shut out of the Sportello event vented their frustration at length on Chowhound. The Boston Globe ran a follow-up story today, and their reporter interviewed me at length for it. As my comments didn't end up in the story, I'm running them here.

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PEGGY HERNANDEZ, BOSTON GLOBE REPORTER: The area has restaurants which serve ramen, including Sapporo, Myers & Chang, Blue Ginger, but, looking at Chowhound, blogs, etc. it seems many believe Boston is in need of "real ramen". You say on Chowhound: "Bostonians are dying for good ramen: it's clearly a hole in the scene." What isn't real about what's been out there? Why do Bostonians want it so much? Is it a Momofuku thing?

MC Slim JB: I think it's fair to say that the core of regular Boston Chowhounds is a bit worldlier, better traveled, more adventurous than many online amateur reviewers. They’re also value-conscious (which is not the same thing as cheap), and suspicious of media hype. When I say there's a hole in the scene, I'm speaking to that audience, which I think is pining for what is essentially high-quality Japanese fast food at a low price point without much concern for ambiance. Think Tampopo (the movie) more than Momofuku. They’re not hostile to Joanne Chang doing a $12 bowl of ramen, but I think the craving is less for upmarket interpretations, more for a traditional ramen experience.

PH: I ask that because, wow, there is so much excitement/hype on social media about Guchi’s Midnight Ramen. What was behind that? The upscale chefs? Also, is interest still strong after so many people were unable to get tickets to the second GMR at Sportello?

MC: I think the GMR folks did a great marketing job there, starting with their invite-only, press-oriented debut event at Bondir, which netted them a lot of food blog and lifestyle magazine coverage. With clever use of Facebook and Twitter, they skillfully built buzz and demand. The O Ya pedigree didn’t hurt, but I think the excitement was pure food-nerd curiosity combined with the mystique and fun of doing an event at midnight in a pop-up setting. And Chowhounds aren’t above I-got-there-first bragging rights, though few would publicly cop to it.

There will definitely be some backlash, folks who will stay miffed that they got shut out of an unexpectedly tiny event. GMR might do the events more frequently, or do them at larger scale, but that strikes me as unlikely given that this is a labor of love, a side project for already-busy chefs. I think the way to address the issue is simply to be more upfront about the number of seats to be made available to the general public. Then prospective diners can better gauge whether it’s worth the effort to hawk a Twitter feed for hours waiting for the ticket-buying starting gun. *

* N.B. Based on an announcement today for Guchi's next event, it appears they have opted to take this exact advice, not only specifying the total number of available tickets, but also announcing exactly when the tickets will go on sale well ahead of time.

PH: I think you're correct, that GMR is a "quixotic" effort. Do you think GMR and Uni are creating a new kind of energy around a particular food? These two efforts certainly attract younger crowds.

MC: I think in the case of Uni, you’ve got Ken Oringer’s hard-earned reputation for delivering quality dining experiences across a spectrum of cuisines, as well as curiosity about the Clio/Uni physical makeover and growing awareness of Todd Maul’s superb cocktail program. And the cost is sure to be in reach for more diners than Uni’s traditional menu, which ranks among the most expensive in town. 

By contrast, GMR doesn’t have comparable brand loyalty yet, so they will have to work harder to avoid the perception of being another overhyped shallow-foodie trend with the durability of a mayfly. But I think that anything that gets a conversation and some excitement going about an underserved cuisine is a good thing. And getting something delicious in the wee hours remains a tough task in Boston, so there’s big pent-up demand there, too. It’s just a little odd that something so inherently humble in its original form has created such a frenzy here. I imagine it would be like diners in Tokyo suddenly going crazy over diner-style American pancakes and sitting down to eat them in a swank venue at $30 a throw. (Okay, that probably has already happened in Japan.)

PH: Any comment on the price points ($25 for pork bun, ramen and cookie at GMR; $8 for pork bun, $10 for ramen, $3 for dessert at Uni)?

MC: Yeah, that’s not exactly your subway-station bowl of ramen, is it? Then again, there’s a reasonable expectation that the chefs involved are going to be doing a luxury version, with loving attention to broths, tares, and noodles. Me, I want a range of ramen options, in the same way I sometimes want a Craigie burger, sometimes a Gallows burger, sometimes a Flat Patties burger.

There’s nothing wrong with chefs taking a humble street food and elevating it with gourmet ingredients and technique, a topic I expounded on at length here. But I think it’s easier to appreciate the gourmet version when you’ve experienced a great iteration of the truck-stop version first. So by all means, let a thousand bowls of ramen bloom, including ones with slices of pork from Kagoshima Kurobuta that lived their lives reclining on unicorn-down pillows. But please, let’s include a fabulous $8 one in there somewhere, too.

Drink: Boston's Single Most Essential Craft Cocktail Bar

[This is a reprint of a piece I wrote for Serious Eats, originally published on March 31, 2011. All photos by MC Slim JB.]

Walk half a mile from Boston's South Station, over a bridge into the Fort Point section of South Boston, and you'll happen upon a bleak former warehouse district that is slowly being rehabilitated into an upscale residential and destination-dining neighborhood. Enter a door marked Sportello, an Italian eatery in local celeb-chef Barbara Lynch's empire, and head not upstairs to the restaurant, but downstairs and through a door, and you will arrive at Drink.

This spare, industrial-looking room still has much of its warehouse-basement skeleton of exposed brick, big wooden beams, and rough-hewn granite intact. Three U-shaped, connected bars line the front wall, forming three service and five seating/standing areas. With large soapstone workspaces behind the bars (recalling chem-lab tables) and bottles stowed out of sight, the space is remarkably uncluttered, a spanking-clean mise en place. Aside from bowls of fruit and fresh herbs, there's little to distract the eye beyond a collection of vintage barware and tools along the back work counter. Customers sip cocktails from unique vintage glasses and mugs.

I'm greeted by Misty Kalkofen, one of the star-studded team of bartenders here that boasts names like Josey Packard and Scott Marshall. (This includes most of Boston's BAR certifications, the profession's most coveted credential.) There's no cocktail list, though a letter board on the wall lists recently-popular drinks, few of them likely to be familiar (ever tried a Maximilian Affair?) "What are you thinking tonight?" Misty asks.

"How about something with mezcal?" I reply, knowing she loves this spirit and has created many originals with it.

"Have you tried Nux Alpina? It's a walnut-based liqueur from Austria."

I'm game.

Misty precisely measures and stirs up one of her own creations, In Vida Veritas ($11), which combines Del Maguey Mezcal Vida, Zirbenz (an Austrian liqueur with the scent of pine resin), the aforementioned Nux, Benedictine (the sweet/herbal French monastery cordial), a dash of The Bitter Truth's Xocolate Mole Bitters, and a spritz of orange oil. It's mahogany-toned, smoky from the single-village mezcal, and reveals layers and layers of herbal complexity, something different hitting the palate with every sip. I've never tasted anything like it. This is exactly what I come here for.

Where on earth did this place spring from? Its origins lie in manager John Gertsen's prior stint at Lynch's restaurant No. 9 Park on Beacon Hill, where he combined polished bartending skills with a subtle showman's hospitality. What really distinguished Gertsen's program at No. 9 was his nerdy technical obsessiveness: sourcing high-quality spirits, bitters, and other ingredients from around the world; always using fresh juices and produce from No. 9's larder; studying and relating cocktail history and origin stories; reviving 19th-century classics and creating new cocktails in their mold; fretting over tools and garnishes and glassware and ice. No. 9 took Boston's then-embryonic cocktail renaissance up another level, and did it in very tight quarters with just a handful of seats. When Lynch embarked on an ambitious three-venue expansion plan in Fort Point, she opened Drink to give Gertsen a bigger, shinier stage.

Misty asks my companion what she's thinking.

"Something fresh and springy, like a Mojito?"

Misty probes further: "How do you feel about genever?"

"Um, not sure?"

"Give this one a try," she says, and returns with a Bols Smash ($11): lemon, sugar, a lot of genever and fresh mint shaken together and strained over hand-crushed ice, garnished with another bouquet of impeccable mint. It's beautiful and refreshing, and the malty, almost-whiskeylike undertone of the genever adds a heft and balance that the typically over-sugared light-rum Mojito lacks.

Next round? "How about something with gin?", I venture.

Asks Misty, "Have you sampled Ransom Old Tom gin? You must try a Martinez with this stuff: it's from Oregon, and it's amazing."

The resulting Martinez ($11) is a mix of Ransom Old Tom, Cinzano Rosso vermouth, Luxardo Maraschino liqueur, a dash of Jerry Thomas Decanter bitters, and a spritz of lemon oil. It's easy to see what Misty is excited about: this proto-Martini is much improved by the richer, dryer, barrel-aged Ransom.

Drink also serves punches, a specialty older even than Golden Age cocktails, one that few other Boston bars attempt. Most can be made to scale from two drinkers to much larger groups. One evening, Will Thompson concocts an unnamed punch for two ($24) that begins with lemon peels muddled with demerara sugar and macerated in tea. To this he adds Batavia Arrack, Jamaican and Barbadian rums, Cognac and fresh lemon juice. It's stirred with big, hand-carved chunks of ice in a lovely vintage bowl with a sterling ladle, finished with a flurry of fresh-grated nutmeg. It starts strong and delicious, gently mellowing over time, the ice cut large enough not to dilute it too quickly.

That highlights another detail that Drink sweats like no other Boston bar: ice. It sources 50-pound blocks from an ancient local icehouse, and makes Kold-Draft ice in crystal-clear, geometrically-perfect cubes. Bartenders wield antique ice tools to create a wide array of shapes and sizes carefully matched to the needs of each drink for cooling, texture, and dilution speed. It's a marvel to see a miniature blizzard of ice being planed off a giant block to make a mist, and startling to hear the thwack of a mallet on a Morris bag to produce ice with the texture of gravel.

Drink's no-set-menu philosophy aims to get drinkers out of their well-worn ruts, but I've noticed that some customers find it frustrating. They just want their usual, not a give-and-take to arrive at something unfamiliar. Vodka drinkers, beer lovers, and oenophiles are often flummoxed to learn that Drink offers them very few (and almost no familiar) options. I'm not certain why anyone would come here to pay $11 for a vodka and soda—it seems like going to a Chinese restaurant and ordering the hamburger —but Drink draws crowds of such drinkers on weekends, to the point where it must limit capacity, creating a queue on the sidewalk.

I guess they come for the cool vibe, not the chance to get into the spirit of the place. Quieter nights tend to attract more serious cocktail geeks, and that's when I encourage you to go. For although it has been joined since its opening by some fantastic places in the top tier, Drink remains the sine qua non of craft cocktails in Boston, the single best place to explore the near-infinite richness of the craft cocktail world. Having experienced it, you may never order another thoughtless Dirty Vodka "martini" ever again.

Drink

348 Congress Street, Boston, MA 02210-1236 (near A Street; map)

617-695-1806; drinkfortpoint.com