So what grinds did your own Metrowalker eat whilst caught in the fist of the snow king? Well let me tell you…
Whilst awaiting a showing of that Ciney, “The Golden Compass” in Pasadena, your own Metrowalker nearly blinded by hunger stumbled weak and frozen into Kansai, a modest noodle shop of the Nihon persuasion.
Say what you will about the Samurai of old reigning supreme with their sushi, and their one pot nabes my friends. Today, the great arcologies of Tokyo are built on noodles. Ramen and udon are the jet fuel of many a circuit jockey and software savant, without those long strands of carbohydrate goodness I think many a high tech business would grind to a halt, not to mention many a college campus.
So your narrator knew that a luscious lifesaver of lipids was being thrown to him to save him from the shipwreck of starvation.
Kansai is a small storefront on Fair Oaks in Pasadena, just a few steps away from Colorado Blvd. It has a familia run feel to it, with a comfortable casual air to its operation and a sorta homey sweetness to its servers.
Kinda like your living room huh?
The small shop reminded me of the noodle shops in Tokyo, with its homey atmosphere and plastic food displays. A mom and pop noodle shop, just the thing!
Kansai serves udon, and soba with an assortment of toppings and broths for them to swim in. They also have sushi, sashimi and all the other wonderful grinds that end in “I”.
Your humble harlequin chose a favorite from his keiki hood, that being tempura udon. Crispy lacey shrimp and vegetables, soft noodles all set to sea on a bubbling broth? Oh my dears, how can you get any better than that! An extra order of tempura to set my hunger on its head and I dug in.
The broth was subtle, its surface speckled with jewels of fat from the tempura. The udon noodles were soft but chewy, and the tempura was crunchy and hot. This washed down by some hot green tea warmed your own clown of consumption all the way to his belled shoes.
So what’s the problem you ask? How could hot noodles, crispy tempura and a subtle broth make your narrator cringe? How could a warm tummy full of slurpables sadden your own victual vagabond?CAUSE IT COST ALMOST 25 DOLLARS! Seriously, that’s steak gelt, it was good, but not 25 dollar good. I hear you brothers and sisters, harlequin you say, you read the menu, your brainpan does the clikity clack to figure the price. How could you not know the roll of folding gelt that it took to buy a bowl?
It was my hunger, it was the cold…I was young and I needed the shiny…no, that was for the other thing. Cousins, all I can tell you was I was shocked at the bill, the food was good, but for the price I really needed great. Was the tempura made of gold? Were the noodles home made in Brunei? Was the broth going to restore me to my own multicolored youth? I stumbled out into the winter night, poor, and alone…it was only the sight of armoured bears and dirigables that kept me from being caught in a prison of my own frozen tears.
But the cruel winter was not over my dear friends, your mummer of meals was further battered when one dayspin he took the heel toe through Hollywood. There he found The Dip, a sandwich stand on the third floor of the Hollywood highland shopping center.
The Dip specializes in French dip style sandwiches, lusty hoagies bathed in pan juice and served sopping and sweet to the hungry masses who need the calories. Well my family, that was me, my Harlequin staff was drooping, my hat noticeably unjaunty…I was starved , and “The Dip” was just the place to go.
The first thing I noticed was the condiment bar, a plethora of mustards, hot sauces, and pickles to customize my order even further. A good sign, as I have a general dislike of just putting ketchup on anything.
My glassies settled on the half pastrami dip, french fries, and a pepsi. (they only have the pepsi on the fountain, and you know my dears how the harlequin loves to sploosh soda). The order came quickly, and lo and behold it was just as it said on the menu, a half of a sandwich.
Look the fries are bigger than the buttie!
Long ago, Metrowalker’s granny gran used to make him grinds, and she would always serve those squishy dinner rolls that came in the bag with the little pioneer on it. Remember readers? Those tiny fist sized cotton balls, that served as butter caddies, two bites and they were gone.
This was the hull of The Dip’s pastrami sub, although it was piled with pastrami, your own Metrowalker could not get over its size. The carne was flavorful, but it was not Katz’s, it was more like The Hat, like good Boars Head meat, a workhorse pastrami, nothing special but tasty.
The fries were the seasoned “long horn” types, fried well, and crispy. A little splash of “Kick Ass” ketchup and garlic mustard and they were right as rain. So again, you ask, dear Metrowalker, why oh why are you so sad…Pastrami dipped in pan juices, crispy fries and a fistful of tasty treat tweeking sauces, why oh why are you not cart wheeling and carousing in your usual countenance?
Once again because the tiny sandwich, and the pre made fries with a drink cost me OVER 12 DOLLARS!!!! What had happened my sweet suffering siblings? Had I become a cynic, caring more for the money than the art? Had I lost the love of the dance?
The food both at Kansai, and The Dip were good serviceable comestables, both restaurants were clean and friendly, and the service at both polite…I liked both restaurants well enough. So what could it have been?
I cried, and retired to my castle of cards, determined to surround myself in spangles and stars until the winter world went away. I would no longer eat out in this bad ol city, I was done. If I cared more for the art then I would not look at the price of it…just enjoy the grinds and feel satisfied…but I wasn’t satisfied.
A baseball sized bomber, even if it was stuffed with pastrami should not cost as much as a hoagie twice its size at The Hat, or Johnnies. A bowl of noodles should not be as much as a steak and egg breakfast at The Union Street Steakhouse , this bad old city had drowned your poor own Metrowalker in its freezing tidal pool of winter.
Like Fortunato, I bricked myself up and waited out the winter.
It was Ms. Bon V, and her love of noodles that broke sunlight into Metrowalker’s own cellar of solitude. “Come to Santouka Ramen my little Punch, come have a bowl of Shio Ramen, and feel the sun shine on you again!”
She gathered your own crumpled clown, and we adventured to Santouka Ramen, a food court store within the Mitsuwa supermarket. Your own Metrowalker was skeptical, he had been frozen so bad, another disappointment would probably just kill him.
Madam Bon V. assured him that if they got there in time (they sell out in a hurry) the special broth would revive the dance within him.
We ordered medium shio ramen, with special pork, (ramen with a pork broth flavored with salt) and for your own Metrowalker, a bowl of rice frosted with salmon eggs as a side. The noodles came with a plate of slices of that special pork, green onions, pickled bamboo shoots, and a tangle of seaweed.
Oh mi familia, the first slurp of salty rich shio broth caused the glacier around your own harlequin’s heart to crack. It sang with rich pork flavor, the fat covered my lips with smaking goodness. With the luscious slices of pork., the soup became a symphony of slurpability. Each new addition of onion, or bamboo, made the ramen soar. Winter was over I was saved!!!
The salmon eggs were sweet and juicy, Santouka bathes its fishy huevos in something sweet, ridding it of salt and giving them a wonderful crunch.
Now you say, with all that salt in the soup, did you have to drown yourself in water just to keep from drying out? I did actually, but I would do it again in a high blood pressured beat of my little red pump. The combination of chewy noodles, rich salty broth and luscious pork makes some of this one of the best bowls of noodles your Uncle has ever had.
I was revived, Bon V being my Columbine, reviving my heart and my spirit, I will go there again soon and try everything on Santouka’s menu! Its spring my family, the dance awaits, lets get out there while the music is still playing!!!!
And no you my brothers and sisters, I did not take the last photos of Santouka Ramen, but I love them just the same!!!
SANTOUKA RAMEN
3760 S Centinela Ave
Los Angeles, CA 90066
(310) 391-1101
THE DIP
6801 Hollywood Blvd
Los Angeles, CA, 90028
(323) 871-0888
KANSAI
36 S Fair Oaks Ave
Pasadena, CA, 91105
(626) 564-1560
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