No-Face Ramen with Naruto Swirls

Pork tonkotsu ramen from Ippudo.

As I passed through the noren into Ginza's Ippudo shop, the rich fragrance of all the different broths brewing permeated my lungs. I listened to the energetic slurping frenzy around me with anticipation and tried to appease my appetite with assorted pickled delights and cucumber bites. When my spicy tonkotsu ramen order arrived, I admired the delicately arranged charcoal seaweed, fresh green onions, glittering soft-boiled egg, tender Chashu pork slices, and narutomaki flake on top before diving in and stretching out the chewy egg noodles.

Free spicy seaweed, peppered soybeans, ginger strips and garlic in little boxes on the table.

Mmm, yup, there is nothing quite like a hot bowl of ramen! I prefer thick broths, but honestly, there are so many types of ramen... this article details various ramen styles quite well. The Ippudo in New York is pretty good. But the atmosphere in Japan lends ramen a completely unique taste. For instance, slurping is a must! The noodles are cooked to perfection and need to be eaten instantly before they get all soggy.

Chibi Naruto steals a narutomaki!

My favorite element from childhood has always been the narutomaki/naruto, the star-shaped fish-cake swirls named after the naruto whirlpools in the Naruto Strait. Often sparse, the floating or drowning pink swirls are fun to find in a large bowl. I consider them to be like the cherry on top, a small touch that brings great joy to the ramen experience. In fact, one of the most popular characters in all of manga history is named after the tasty treat that he loves. Masashi Kishimoto's vibrant and hilarious character has probably even eclipsed narutomaki in renown nowadays!

Vending machine ramen at Ichiran train station shop! Don't be fooled by all the buttons, the ONLY option is tonkotsu ramen.

However, I also experienced a bizarre, fun, and somewhat eerie experience on a rainy day at the Tokyo Ueno train station that I dramatically refer to as "No-Face Ramen." Ichiran is a ramen shop that seeks to minimize the tired commuter or traveler's interaction with other humans as much as possible. Customers first order via a vending ticket machine. Always order Kaedama, a refill of noodles, because ramen shops generally do not provide an abundant noodle serving to start. As explained earlier, they encourage eating noodles fast and fresh (and they make more money).

This layout is not the most conducive environment for an engaging conversation. Luckily you can collapse the booth walls, and so I ended up being able to talk to Yuka after all!

Next, customers wait in front of a huge blinking sign that displays the shop's very narrow counter seating arrangement. Taken seats are marked as such until a customer leaves, upon which the seat on the screen flashes "empty" and dings "KONG!" So my bewildered party of 5 stood there for at least 15 minutes, listening to a bunch of KONG KONG KONG KONG KONG's when 5 seats serendipitously opened in a row.

When I slid open the cup holder door on the upper left to catch a peek of my server's face, a hand immediately slammed it shut and scared the bejeebies out of me...

Each person gets a personal booth closed off on both sides, a water dispenser and cup, a checklist to indicate whether you want: firm, medium, or soft noodles; spicy or non-spicy; thick or light broth; etc., and a small window that only hints at your server's bottom half and the mysterious, bustling kitchen background. The server then severs any connection with a bamboo shutter. Only a call button can reconnect you with obscurity.

Well, I guess the servers did have faces after all...?

What struck me the most was how a person could enter, sit, eat, and leave without having to look at a single face. Even the exit route is separate from the entrance. The servers do not show their faces. Your neighbors could hide their faces. You would not have to show your face. Everyone could have no face.

This incident reminded me of a powerful scene in the most acclaimed Ghibli film directed by animation master Hayao Miyazaki: Spirited Away (2001). Insightful, mature, and absolutely gorgeous, this movie is not just a poignant coming-of-age tale, but also an allegory of Japan's post-modern struggles and search for cultural identity. An important character called No-Face wears a noh mask and is neither good nor evil, though he feeds on the corrupting greed and superficial values percolating throughout the traditional bathhouse where the protagonist Chihiro works.

 

Have you ever realized, you were in a train full of people you didn't know, faces you would never remember, and conversations never uttered?

Chihiro silently brings him on a train that glides across the ocean. The audience listens to waves, white noise, and haunting piano notes. Other passengers are quiet and preoccupied shadowy globs. This beautiful scene creates a sense of isolation reminiscent of real-life. In Ichiran, I felt like Chihiro, emotionally disconnected with the world. The ramen just didn't taste as good without seeing faces of people I loved. Yet No-Face and Chihiro, finally away from the crazy bathhouse life, feel at peace. I guess that's what Ichiran provides, a brief reprieve from a society of appearances.

Not a fast-paced plot-driven thriller at all. Read Villain for that. But this slice-of-life book is absolutely chilling.

I would like to conclude this post with a Japanese book recommendation that has nothing to do with ramen, but everything to do with a No-Face world. It also became a pretty good movie, so you could watch that instead. Despite Parade being Yoshida's novel debut in 2002, it presents his mastery of perspective and psyche. Although he and Haruki Murakami (whose work I have never found appealing) touch upon similar themes of alienation, I find Yoshida's writing to be more accessible.

There are 5 Parades because the novel is told from the vantage of 5 different characters who live in one apartment. Strangers, each puts on a mask. Tokyo's overcrowded structure and social conventions prevent them from sharing their true, broken selves. Like No-Face, they are neither good nor evil, but their frustrating and unforgiving environs lead them to harbor self-destructive tendencies.

From a seemingly mundane world emerges something incredibly dark and inexplicable. The end will make you breathless with confusion and grapple for psychological re-analysis of each character.

First-person narratives can be tricky because many authors use the SAME VOICE for female/male characters. Parade's voices, however, have such distinct quirks and palpable desires, I feel like they are actual relatable people. Having lived in chat rooms as an angsty middle schooler who felt isolated from my peers, I can understand how the realm of anonymity is freeing yet restrictive. Maybe what these twenty-somethings need are some relaxing train rides, sincere discussions, and fulfilling ramen.

"Living here I feel like I'm in an Internet chat room. The basic right everyone has in a chat room is to be anonymous. Most people think that anonymity allows us to reveal our true natures, but I doubt it. Instead, I'd play the imposter, exaggerating one thing after another. Nowadays being yourself is seen as a virtue. The only image I get though of people who are being themselves is of someone who is negligent and sloppy. The only way to live here is to play the role of the perfect self that fits into this place. It's actually a fully occupied space, yet there's no one here. Yet even though none of us are really here, it's still fully occupied." - Shuichi Yoshida, Parade