Paseo

Sato’s burgers are based on tonkatsu, a panko-breaded, deep-fried pork cutlet typically served with shredded cabbage, rice, miso soup, and some Japanese pickles. Both the pork and the cabbage are delicious with a squiggle of sweet and tangy tonkatsu sauce, though I also like my pork with some karashi. (Karashi is spicy Japanese mustard, which I think would be a killer ingredient if introduced to Katsu’s burgers.)

Katsu Burger offers a choice of deep-fried meats for their burgers. While beef and chicken (there’s also tofu) are options, pork is classic for katsu, so I’m a bit surprised that the first, basic burger on the menu is beef—and is called Tokyo Classic. It’s simply the patty with Japanese mayonnaise and tonkatsu sauce on the bun ($6.95), topped (like all the burgers) with shredded cabbage, tomatoes, red onions, and pickles. The menu says meat substitutions are fine, but a newbie might not realize this. In the future, I’ll go with a pork version of the Tokyo Classic—it’s what I recommend to others—but first visit, I got these:

Wabi Wasabi (beef patty, pepper jack, wasabi mayonnaise, and tonkatsu sauce, $7.55)

Ninja Deluxe (pork cutlet, cheddar, bacon, Japanese mayonnaise, and tonkatsu sauce, $8.25)

The beef, batter-fried with juices sealed in, was fun to try, but I much preferred the pork. “We use natural pork loin (no added growth hormones or antibiotics), which is more expensive but definitely worth it,” Sato explained, adding, “We brine and season it to make it tender and tasty.”

Tender and tasty indeed. Pounding the pork contributed to this, and also made the katsu burger quite sexy.

Should you be unable to choose between meats, you can climb all the way up to a Mt. Fuji, featuring a beef patty, pork cutlet, and chicken breast along with ham, bacon, two cheeses, and other fixings ($16.25). There are also choices of sides for the burgers, which you can combine to make meal deals. An Ichi-ban (+$3.15) gets you seasoned fries (either curry or nori-seasoned), one dipping sauce, and a regular drink—which can be upgraded to a shake (+$2.50). I recommend the nori fries and a green tea milkshake for an amazing East-meets-West fast food meal that’s actually made to order.

If you’re really hungry, you can opt for a Ni-ban meal (+$5.15), which adds a side of wasabi coleslaw to your Ichi-ban order. And if you want to go really crazy, you can “Sumo size it!” with Banzai bites (six chicken “tenders”), fries, cole slaw, slaw, two dipping sauces, and a regular drink for an additional $7.95, which likely exceeds the cost of your burger. Now you’re eating like a real American.

Note: If you missed the link above, here’s my explanation of what makes Katsu Burger’s Ninja Deluxe (and all the pork burgers) so sexy.

They’re available in beef, chicken, and tofu varieties, but if you want classic katsu, you have to go pork. I chose the Ninja Deluxe: a pork cutlet with cheddar, bacon, Japanese mayonnaise, and tonkatsu sauce. (All of the burgers come with shredded cabbage, tomatoes, red onion, and pickles.) Add nori fries (seaweed-seasoned) and a green tea milkshake, and you’ve got an amazing East-meets-West fast food meal that’s actually made to order.

So what does Katsu Burger’s Ninja Deluxe burger teach us about sex?

It’s all about the pleasure that results from spanking.

There are some secrets to success when it comes to the quality of a katsu burger. Perhaps most important is to pound the pork cutlet to ensure even thickness (it will look and taste better with even cooking and browning) and to break down the meat’s tough connective tissue. Spanking the meat with just the right pressure can tenderize it, preparing it for pleasure ahead.

It’s the same with sex.

Many people are into spanking, but are not sure how to broach the subject, let alone how to do it correctly. One thought is to suggest it or even do it gently and teasingly, sensing how the other person reacts.

Or you and your loved one can watch Maggie Gyllenhaal and James Spader in Secretary to see if that scene is a turn-on.

Why do people like spanking? Some like the sense of role-play, imagining boss/secretary and teacher/schoolboy or schoolgirl scenarios. Domination and submission play a part (and you thought you’d never be into BDSM!), with vulnerability building trust. And physically, it’s all about the many nerves which connect to the genital area. (Ever had a butt massage? It can be both relaxing and stimulating.)

So how do you do it? At first, it’s probably best to spank with an open hand, as the hand offers the most control, the spanker can feel the result, and you have a skin-on-skin connection. Get your hand(s) warm. Get the “bad boy” or “bad girl” (the spankee) in a good position: lying across your lap in bed, spread over-the-knee, bent over a chair, or perhaps tied upright against a pole. Spank firmly at the meatiest part of the buttocks, being sure to do this one cheek at a time. Then caress and assess in between strikes, gauging your partner’s reaction. Sound is part of the eroticism; as always, everything contributes to the arousal and gratification.

As you become more experienced, you can move on to tools like a paddle, riding crop, whip–and perhaps even some sophisticated ninja devices. Or maybe even a meat mallet, like the ones that ultimately provide so much pleasure at Katsu Burger.

First published in Seattle Weekly’s Voracious on February 2, 2012.

Dish:

In the bowl: Chashu (braised pork butt), tamago (egg), menma (bamboo shoots), green onion, and a piece of nori (seaweed) in soy seasoned chicken-pork broth

Supporting cast/What to do: You can order fried garlic chips or fried shallots for an extra fifty cents, but I’d recommend this bowl as is. Just dive in. Any knowledgeable Japanese person will tell you that you should eat your ramen as quickly as possible to prevent the noodles from getting soggy and losing their texture. (Some would cite a seven-minute rule.)

Noodling around: Tokyo ramen has been the reimagined name of shoyu ramen on Boom’s menu, reflecting its region of popularity. Boom Noodle sells all of the “big four” varieties of ramen, from shoyu to tonkotsu (pork bone) to shio (salt) to miso, pulling out the fullest of flavors without using MSG. You’ll also find other types of ramen there, including spicy lemon (yuzu) chicken and spicy pork.

As much as I’ve partaken in the tonkotsu craze that seems to be sweeping American cities that are discovering ramen, I ultimately prefer shoyu for its lightness–and as the best way to judge the quality of a restaurant’s ramen. It allows me to focus on the noodles, the chashu, the broth, and the other elements of the soup.

Boom Noodle’s ramen has really evolved over the years. The slightly wavy noodles are better than before, the chashu is a thickness I like and has decent fat content, and the broth is meaty without being heavy. I wish the egg was soft-cooked to the right runniness; then again, I haven’t found such an egg at any of Seattle’s “dedicated” ramen places, though Spring Hill’s saimin and Revel’s ramen get it right.

If you want more: It’s always tempting to get ramen’s satisfying sidekick, gyoza (pork or vegetable, $6.95), but as a healthier option, I recommend edamame puree ($4.95). Sweet potato crisps, baby cucumber, and Japanese eggplant come as vehicles to scoop up the delicious puree, spiced with citrusy yuzu pepper.

Be aware/beware: Happy hour gets you the Tokyo ramen at a discounted price of $6.95, which is quite a deal. The edamame drops to $3.75, and the gyoza to $4.75.

As the name implies, Boom is about noodles in general, going beyond ramen. There’s pho, pad Thai, udon, yakisoba (egg noodles), and soba. In fact, for a vegetarian dish, the shiitake soba packs a lot of punch, pushed by the umami of the mushrooms. And the menu offers non-noodle dishes to explore as well.

Note: Boom Noodle is included in my round-up of Seattle-area Asian noodle restaurants as part of my cover story in the current IBUKI magazine (available at Japan-centric stores and restaurants).

First published in Seattle Weekly’s Voracious on January 23, 2012.

Dish:

In the bowl: From the menu: “Udon noodles served hot with our extra thick fried and marinated tofu (Atsu-age), sliced green onions & grated fresh ginger.”

Supporting cast/What to do: Grab a tray and slide along the line, cafeteria-style, which is typical of udon joints in Japan. When you place your order, the bowl-maker will ask if you want tenkasu (tempura flakes, like Rice Krispies) in the bowl, or on the side. After getting your bowl, you’ll slide down to an area where you can pick up pieces of tempura, kakiage (tempura made with vegetable strips, like a fritter), or karaage (fried chicken) before paying. These extras range in cost from 35 cents for tempura broccoli to $1.79 for tempura chikuwa. (You’ll want the chikuwa, which is fishcake in the shape of a tube.) See below for more on what to do to eat this udon.

Noodling around: U:Don, which opened late last month, serves the first house-made udon noodles in Seattle. You can watch the noodle-making process while you wait to order. The udon is ultimately 3mm thick, and it’s boiled briefly to achieve a koshi quality (firm, al dente texture). The cold preparations, such as on-tama udon (in soy sauce-dashi sauce, served with a “hot-spring” egg, sliced green onions, and grated ginger) show off the chewiness of the udon best.

Especially comforting in winter, the warm broths soften the noodles. Kitsune udon features deep-fried tofu pouches (kitsune means fox, and it’s said that foxes like fried tofu) which absorb the broth, making for bites that are slightly sweet. The broth, too, is bit sweet–the one minor complaint I’m consistently hearing from Japanese friends who have visited U:Don since its opening. (I especially noticed this in the niku udon, perhaps due to the meat marinade.) But it’s early in the game for U:Don, and chef Tak Kurachi seems open to feedback from his customers.

Otherwise, everyone’s thrilled to have this low-cost noodle restaurant in town, with special praise for the tempura and kakiage. There’s a nice selection available. Some like to drop these items in the soup to get the breading a bit soggy. I prefer to keep mine crisp, or to just swipe them through the broth as I eat them. This is also why I get my tenkasu on side, as I can add the flakes to the soup as I please, keeping them crisp. You’ll have to sample various types of tempura to see what you like best, but I especially recommend the chikuwa, which is a perfect blend of chewy and crispy.

If you want more: Karaage (49 cents per piece) is an interesting side option for the udon. It’s not traditional, and I wouldn’t put it in the bowl of udon, but it’s fun to have as part of the meal. There’s also onigiri (more typical of what you might find as a side in Japan) if you’re carbo-loading. Personally, I’d just go for a bigger portion of tempura. You can also pay 50 cents more for a larger bowl of noodles (or 50 cents less for a smaller bowl).

Be aware/beware: If you’ve never had fresh-made udon before, it’s a great experience, as the texture of the noodles is quite special. Just as you can appreciate the jump from Top Ramen to real ramen, try U:Don’s noodles and you might not want to go back to dried or frozen udon–except for the convenience.

Like ramen, note that it’s best to eat udon within ten minutes to keep the noodles from getting too soft. That might be tricky for the chopstick-challenged, as these thick noodles are quite slippery, but as I’ve written before, just keep in mind that they are “supremely slurpable,” meaning it’s okay to make noise while sucking them in.

Note: U:Don is included in my round-up of Seattle-area Asian noodle restaurants as part of my cover story in the current IBUKI magazine (available at Japan-centric stores and restaurants).

First published in Seattle Weekly’s Voracious on January 2, 2012.

*** Here are two other noodle bowls I’ve tried at U:Don:

On-tama udon with onsen tamago (hot-spring egg), sliced green onions, grated ginger, and dashi-shoyu

Niku udon with sukiyaki braised beef, onions, sliced green onions, and grated ginger

Earlier this month, I visited Maneki again to research a new noodle article I’m writing, and saw the sushi chef sending out some opened uni shells as part of sushi orders. I asked how the uni tasted, and he said it was good–just coming into season. Next thing I know, he gifted me an order. One of my favorite foods in the world, I carefully drizzled on a little soy sauce and enjoyed my uni feast: smooth and creamy, briny and buttery–a rich, sweet taste of the ocean.

So what does Maneki’s uni teach us about sex?

It’s all about knowing your sex organs.

I ask many people, particularly Japanese (who especially love uni), what part of the animal they think they’re eating. Rarely does anyone know. Roe is the most common guess. Uni is indeed often advertised as sea urchin roe, but that’s wrong.

Break through the spikes and shell and open up a sea urchin (the best way to eat this relative of starfish and snails is immediately upon catching in the ocean), and you’ll find five “tongues.” The color may range from yellow to bright orange.

These are the gonads of the sea urchin. And they’re luscious.

Funny that we often don’t know about the food we’re eating. That when we order sea urchin at the sushi counter, we’re getting sex organs.

Just as we often don’t know about our own sex organs. Books about body parts ignore them. Our hands get slapped when, as children, we touch our genitals. We’re taught that “down there” is “dirty.” No wonder we’re uptight about using tampons, doing testicular self-exams, and inserting a diaphragm. (Or even pleasuring ourselves.)

Not that we do all those things to ourselves. Most of us are not hermaphrodites.

But sea urchins are. And they’re the most delicious hermaphrodites I’ve ever discovered.

In fact, one of the best dishes I’ve eaten in my life was at a special James Beard dinner. Ethan Stowell placed on the table a plate of six Shigoku oysters (sexual food in its own right) topped with uni. But it wasn’t to share. Everyone got a plate of six. Six slurps, six sensual experiences, six moments of pondering whether food might be better than sex.

In this case, the food was sex.

First published in Seattle Weekly’s Voracious on December 22, 2011.

The izakaya menu also has some tofu dishes, including agedashi tofu (fried tofu with dashi sauce), avocado salad (avocado and tofu over greens), and tsukune (chicken and tofu meatballs). Of particular interest is the shiso tofu. It’s a simple dish of chilled tofu topped by shiso (an herb in the mint family but with more of a vegetal flavor), with the real star of the show being the top layer of katsuobushi, which are dried bonito (tuna) flakes.

So what does Setsuna’s chiso tofu teach us about sex?

It’s all about a moment of attraction.

Katsuobushi is made from a large filet of bonito (skipjack tuna) that is simmered, deboned, smoked repeatedly, sun-dried, and then allowed to develop a mold (to break down the fats and proteins). At the end of the process, you have a wood-like block of dried fish. In traditional times, one used a kezuriki, similar to a wood plane, to catch fish shavings in a box. Now, for convenience, people buy the bonito flakes prepackaged in a bag.

These shavings or flakes are a late but important addition to dishes like takoyaki and okonomiyaki (a savory Japanese pancake). When the katsuobushi hits these hot dishes, the steam makes the flakes sway in a most mesmerizing way, which is why they’re often referred to as dancing fish flakes.

I’m reminded of this when I get the bowl of chiso tofu. The katsuobushi doesn’t move on cold food like this, but I still think about the sensuality of the flakes, which when dancing are visually arresting.

Also arresting is the aroma. It’s not nearly as strong as the smell generated by shaving the bonito using a kezuriki, but it’s there, perfuming the air and the senses.

And the taste is captivating. Like the cured tuna heart shavings I ate the week before at Altura, the katsuobushi has a deep, oceanic flavor, its umami boosting whatever it’s with.

The attraction one can feel toward katsuobushi is like the attraction one sometimes feels immediately upon meeting a potential lover. The way she or he moves is mesmerizing, stirring the soul. His or her perfume or natural smell is intoxicating, as is the taste of the skin or kiss once experienced.

Setsuna, according to the restaurant (and Buddhist philosophy) means “a precise moment in one’s life.” Whether that moment is your initial encounter with katsuobushi, or meeting that special someone for the first time or anew, getting a stirring of the senses is a sure sign of attraction and a moment in life to remember.

First published in Seattle Weekly’s Voracious on November 3, 2011.

Last night, I had a chance to meet Zimmern at Maneki, chosen partly due to its heritage of being over 100 years old. Owner Jean Nakayama consulted with me about the menu and decided to do “neba neba” foods, thinking she’d slime Zimmern. He ate at the bar, with Nakayama playing co-star with her usual grace and gift of gab.

With prime seating in the adjoining tatami room, I watched Zimmern work his way through the gooey menu, tantalized by the textures and talking approvingly about the smells and flavors of the dishes. (“It’s cheesy, but in a good way,” he commented at one point.) The man knows food and appreciates Japanese cuisine.

He also knows the power of social media. Between dishes, he’d whip out his camera phone and quickly post pictures of the food to his Twitter account. And he’s got a great sense of humor. At one point, an older, Japanese customer came by the sushi bar where he was sitting, stopped, and said that he looked like someone she’d seen on the Travel Channel. He asked if it was “that fat guy Zimmern” or “the taller, skinnier Bourdain.” She said the former, but that he couldn’t be Zimmern, as Zimmern was much heavier. (This brought lots of laughs from the crew.)

With no fear of bizarre food, I told Nakayama “I’ll have what he’s having” and indulged in the house-made ika shiokara (fermented squid guts, pictured). I also enjoyed the rare opportunity to try imogara (dried taro stems), which Nakayama brought back from Chiba, Japan. She also served mekabu (the slimy, flowering sprout of kelp—some call it the genitals of kelp with its gooey threads) accompanied by kazunoko konbu (herring roe on kelp), which I’ve savored previously at Shiro’s. The roe is like bubble wrap in the mouth, each bite an explosion full of delicious ocean to swallow.

Motsu ni is a favorite dish I’ve had in Japan, as I’m game for tripe anytime. The meal ended with a neba neba bowl of natto (fermented soybeans), okra, and raw maguro (tuna), and ikura (salmon eggs). Natto is something I eat at home constantly; it’s good for the brain and the rest of the body, and some say the same about the aforementioned nutrition-rich placenta.

Zimmern and I had a chance to chat briefly after the shoot. He was thrilled with his meal at Maneki and all of his experiences so far in Seattle, and was looking forward to digging up some geoduck today. Talk of geoducks and placentas provided the perfect transition to the question this sex educator/food writer asks many food personalities: “What do you consider to be the sexiest food?”

Giving it some thought, Zimmern replied that it’s not a specific item, but food that’s eaten by hand, especially things that are large and layered (physically and with flavor). “Jackfruit’s a good example of something that’s really sexy to eat,” he said, before launching into tales of trips to southeast Asia, Morocco, and, essentially, everywhere else he’s traveled. After all, food takes us places.

Seattle is due to shine on Bizarre Foods sometime in January.

When I attended the Culinary Institute of America’s annual Worlds of Flavor conference last year

Seattle has two such shops.

To learn more about my favorite Japanese noodle dish, I visited Ivan Ramen, one of Japan’s many ramen restaurants, to meet Ivan Orkin–a New Yorker who was inspired by the movie Tampopo and moved to Tokyo to fulfill a dream of being a successful ramen shop chef. (You can find Orkin in conversation with David Chang in the inaugural issue of Lucky Peach.) In a country full of “disciplined” cooking, Orkin loves ramen because “it’s the one maverick cuisine with no rules.”

With no rules, there are endless versions of ramen, with each version boasting its own boosters. This probably makes it wrong for me to title this article “What’s Wrong with Ramen in Seattle?” In fact, what’s right is the increasing popularity of ramen and its prevalence on menus around Seattle. I hear that Taichi Kitamura of Sushi Kappo Tamura is developing a recipe, and maybe Seattle will soon land a Japanese chain, following in the footsteps of New York, Los Angeles, and Vancouver.

What’s ready is the chance for someone to open a stellar place that takes ramen to the next level. That’s the case in Vancouver (well, predictably, Richmond), where G-Men Ramen (photo, above) was serving the best bowls I’ve found in the Pacific Northwest–until they suddenly closed a couple of months ago. (I’m told they hope to reopen next month, perhaps with a different name, in the former Nan Chuu space on Alexandra Road in Richmond.) Eating there, and in Tokyo, helped me understand why we’re falling short on ramen quality in Seattle:

1. No housemade noodles. This isn’t a must, but sometimes it’s a distinguishing feature. Local noodle options are weak, and it seems most of the restaurants get their ramen noodles from the same source in California.

2. Broths are off (usually weak). The process takes time and dedication, and can’t just be an afterthought.

3. Inferior meat. Pork and chicken taste better in Asia. Lower quality pork and chicken not only result in lower quality stock for the soup, but the chashu pieces I see here are lacking in fat and flavor.

4. Bad eggs. Those lower quality chickens come from lower quality eggs. Unless a restaurant here uses a farm fresh egg, it will be lacking the bright orange yolk you’d find at a place like G-Men Ramen. (Our ramen shops also tend to overcook the eggs.)

5. A lack of “Japaneseness.” Just as our Hanna Raskin questioned whether the quality of Stopsky’s Deli suffered from a lack of Yiddishkeit (the Yiddish word for “Jewishness”), I wonder whether the best ramen places should be single-focus and Japanese-run. (Some similarly argue that the best sushi joints are run by Japanese sushi chefs.)

Here’s a round-up of ramen shops in the Seattle area, with a few notes offered.

Japanese

• Maekawa Bar (ramen pictured, right) is an izakaya offering serviceable, simple shoyu, plus optional add-ons like a pat of butter. ($7)
• Kushibar offers all the usual suspects (shoyu, tonkotsu, miso, shio), though some complain the broth is too strong. ($11-12)
• Kaname serves a limited number of tonkotsu miso and tonkotsu shio bowls on its izakaya menu, but with weak broths. ($8.95)
• Kiku Sushi is a Bellevue sushi joint serving only champon, with mixed seafood. ($11.50)
• Dozo Bellevue Café (Kirkland’s Dozo Japanese Sushi has a more limited ramen menu) supplements classic Japanese choices with its Chuka (Chinese) ramen offerings like tan tan men and BP (bell pepper) & pork ramen. ($8-11)
• New Zen is a Japanese restaurant whose only ramen features a tonkotsu-shoyu blend; it might do the trick if you’re traveling to Ikea in Renton. ($9.50)
• Ginza gives you overpriced and underwhelming ramen (shoyu, miso, shio, asari with clam, and takana with sour pickles, mushrooms and pork) in Bellevue. ($12.75-13.50)
• Tsukushinbo is the best of the bunch; it’s what my Japanese partner says she’d imagine her or any grandma’s shoyu ramen to be–previously discussed here. ($8.50, includes gyoza and rice, but limited number of bowls for Friday lunch only)

Chinese (Yes, ramen originate there, but the Japanese have really elevated it.)

• Fu Lin (ramen pictured, right) has signs that scream ramen throughout the restaurant, but regardless of the many varieties offered, the broths are weak and the noodles are cooked too soft. ($6-8)
• Yoe’s Noodles, with, yes, more soft noodles and bland broth in bowls that range from basic to those with grilled eel–previously discussed here. ($7.50-9.50)

Other (from chefs and owners who are not specifically Japanese or Chinese)

• Aloha Ramen (ramen pictured, right) is a dedicated ramen shop (with Hawaiian roots), and it’s doing a wide variety of bowls from the usual (all but tonkotsu) to the more exotic (black sesame miso to mabo katsu). Shio is pretty good, but some bowls suffer from bland broths. ($7.50-9.50)
• Revel takes its try at kimchi ramen with housemade noodles–previously discussed here. ($14)
• Spring Hill makes a wonderfully complex bowl of saimin, with the best egg in town–previously discussed here. ($12) Note, saimin’s not ramen, but if you want to try this “Hawaiian ramen,” you can also go to Hawaiian Breeze and Saimin Says.
• Okinawa Teriyaki is an odd place for ramen, as I was told it’s “American” and uses vegetable stock and dry Korean noodles–previously discussed here. ($6.99-8.99)

You’ll notice that Boom Noodle (shoyu, miso, tonkotsu, shio, kimchi, and spicy yuzu for $9.95-$10.95) and Samurai Noodle (tonkotsu, shoyu, shoyu-tonkotsu combination for $7.25, with other varieties on the menu and in-store specials up to $1.00 more) are missing from the lists. These two are consistently the best bets in town for ramen, and I’ll be writing more about them in the future.

First published in Seattle Weekly’s Voracious on July 26, 2011.

Dish:

In the bowl: From the menu: “chilled udon, daikon oroshi and tempura crunch in cold dashi broth.” There are also green onions and nori (seaweed strips) on top. I opted to add a raw egg for fifty cents more.

Supporting cast: Just what’s in the bowl.

What to do: Break the egg a bit with your chopsticks, and mix it in if you’d like. Then, slurp up noodles with your chopsticks and drink broth with your spoon.

Noodling around: In the world of Japanese noodles, ramen is my go-to dish. Once in a while, though, I’m in the mood for udon. These wheat noodles are slightly thick and typically have good bite to them. Showa serves them two ways. In niku udon, the noodles are in warm, beefy broth with stewed beef pieces, a hard-boiled egg, and spinach. The inaka udon, in contrast, features a cool broth and noodles that are firmer and more mochi-like in their chewiness.

It’s the cool broth that makes Showa’s inaka udon a refreshing summertime treat. The grated daikon (oroshi) adds coolness as well as sweetness to the dish. (Daikon is also full of vitamins and nutrients.) Tempura crunch refers to tempura batter fallout in the oil, often sold in “Rice Krispies” form as tenkasu, and blends well with the soup while providing soft texture (and perhaps psychological crispiness).

Udon noodles in cool broth are supremely slurpable. But be sure to alternate sips of broth with the noodle slurps. I’m told the dashi is made on-site, and it makes for a delicious broth. And you’ll definitely want the raw egg, because everything’s better with a raw egg, right?

One point of confusion: I’m not sure why this udon dish is called “inaka,” which means countryside. It’s the niku udon which I think of as inaka–as there’s meat, and it’s warm and comforting. Showa’s inaka udon seems more urban and refined to me. I know there’s a brand of noodles called inaka udon, but Showa’s udon seems to be frozen, which is what I eat at home. That said, I’d love to see someone prepare fresh (Sanuki) udon in a Seattle restaurant.

If you want more: Given that the inaka udon is meatless, I’d suggest getting the butabara, which is grilled pork belly on a skewer ($3.50). I like this better than Showa’s yakitori ($3), which is a skewer of grilled chicken basted with soy and sake. (I prefer yakitori with salt instead of “tare” sauce, and when I crave yakitori, I conjure up liver, kidneys, skin, and other offbeat parts of the chicken.) If you’re looking for more vegetables, go gomaae–boiled spinach with a strong and pleasant sesame dressing ($3.50).

Be aware/beware: Showa offers happy hour from 5-7pm and 10pm until closing. Happy hour knocks one dollar off certain menu items, and offers some drink specials. As this is an izakaya, there’s a focus on drinking, with the limited menu of food to go with your wine, beer, or sake. Portions are fairly small (it’s really a small plates place), so you’ll need to order a number of dishes if you’re looking to cobble together a meal.

First published in Seattle Weekly’s Voracious on July 12, 2011.

Dish:

In the bowl: Ramen noodles, half of a hard-boiled egg, corn, thinly sliced green onion, mushrooms, and bean sprouts in tonkotsu broth.

Supporting cast: A plate with sliced tonkatsu, a lemon wedge, and some tonkatsu sauce with karashi (spicy mustard).

What to do: Try to eat the noodles quickly so that they don’t get soft, while eating the tonkatsu (after a squeeze of lemon and application of mustard and tonkatsu sauce, if you don’t want to dip) separately.

Noodling around: I did not intend to eat at Yoe’s. In fact, I had not even heard of it before this visit. But when my dining companion and I found Li’s Dumpling and Noodle House unexpectedly closed, we were scrambling for suggestions. A couple of guys, also disappointed by the closure, directed us to Yoe’s.

I’m in the midst of ramen research, so I jumped on the chance to try some. Yoe’s gives a choice of soup bases, including shoyu (soy sauce), tonkotsu (pork bone), and miso, but instead of the traditional fourth of shio (salt), they offer a spicy base. Remembering the advice of the restaurant referrers, I chose tonkotsu, and remembering a favorite Seinfeld episode (”seltzer, not salsa”), I chose tonkatsu. Now I was about to get tonkatsu tonkotsu.

Note that the menu can be confusing. There are ten different ramen bowls, and you’ll need to ask whether the advertised ingredients are served in the bowl or on the side. I can envision the “assorted meat balls” (fish and beef) floating in the soup, but I can’t imagine “grilled eel” in there.

The tonkatsu ramen is said to come “with deep-fried pork and vegetables.” Tonkatsu is the deep-fried (breaded) pork, which comes on the side. The cutlet is rather thin, but will appeal to anyone who favors things fried. As for vegetables, this apparently refers to the kikurage (cloud ear mushrooms), bean sprouts, and corn in the broth. And on the subject of the broth, it too is rather thin, lacking in porky goodness. The egg is grey and overcooked; I prefer a runny egg in my ramen. And the noodles are wavy, which I normally don’t like in heavy tonkotsu ramen (as they capture more broth than the more typical straight noodle), but given the thinness of the broth, this isn’t a problem.

If you want more: This is a pretty filling meal for under eight dollars. But if you’re looking for more, gyoza ($5.95) is a traditional accompaniment to ramen. I’d go lighter, though, looking toward some green vegetables. Edamame ($3.00) is good since it should come out before your ramen, thereby preventing distraction from the soup.

Be aware/beware: Yoe’s appears to be a Japanese restaurant, but it is Chinese-run. Beyond ramen (and a slew of Japanese starters), there are a few udon dishes, as well as cold, spicy dipping ramen, and tempura zarusoba. In addition to the tonkatsu tonkotsu, we tried something called “Yoe’s Signature Fish Soup Bowl” ($7.95), which offers a choice of meats, including pork balls, pork liver, and pork skin. This satisfied my ongoing organ meat craving, but the soft Vietnamese round rice noodles disappeared quickly from my mouth and my mind.

First published in Seattle Weekly’s Voracious on June 28, 2011.