Dear reader, as the holidays approach and the temperature drops, there's only one place to find yourself and it's not Starbucks, even though I have nothing against a good cup of hot chocolate.
I'm talking about a noodle house, dear reader.
Ramen Sora will do nicely.
These friends make ideal noodle house companions, especially as one is Japanese and could discreetly steer me with such insider tips as: men may slurp their noodles like hogs, but women are expected to be a tad more...how do I say in Japanese? Discreet.
Too bad she told me that while I was channeling my inner hog! Oh well--one full body wipedown later and I was practically ready to perform a tea ceremony, franchement.
It's not that I can't be discreet, dear reader. I can. Granted, it's a bit more difficult when the food excites me, but Japanese culture has nothing on this Canadian farmgirl when it comes to reserve.
Just let me chain my inner wolf to a rock out in the middle of nowhere and it's game on.
A word about the broth. Typically I believe there are three options: miso, shio, and shoyu.
If I were you, I'd chose the miso. Not that I have anything against shio or shoyu, because I don't.
It's just that the miso is...how do I say in Japanese? Sensuous.
Can a broth be sensuous, dear reader? Can it make you blush, look down at the floor, and titter? Can it make the room spin, can it make you forget what you were talking about, can it hold you spellbound with its unmistakeable look of desire? Can it make you forget the time? Can it make you lose your breath? Can it make you speak Japanese??
That's miso ramen, dear reader. It doesn't come on strong, but trust me.
It comes on.