Ramen Matsui, Tokyo

〒160-0004 Tokyo, Shinjuku City, Yotsuya, 4 Chome−25−10 ダイアパレス御苑前 B-2

We decided to go to Tokyo twice in the same summer. We knew before we booked tickets the first time that the summer was hot, and we knew with certainty that the summer was hot when we booked tickets for the second trip to take place one month later, yet did it anyway. The desire to "just go again" beat out the discomfort of applying sunscreen twice a day, sweat seeping through the back of my shirt, or the constant reminders of "Should we get a bottle of Aquarius?"

Inbetween trips, I discovered a Taiwanese Youtuber, Simon, whose channel is reviewing ramen restaurants in Japan. It helped bridge me learning Mandarin and seeing content about Tokyo. Ramen was a food that we didn't usually seek out when we traveled to Japan; we maybe had one place we'd want to try sometimes and would pick one that we wouldn't need to wait too long for or could go at an opportune time (as an aside, Kamo to Negi being open 24 hours a day really helps with this when you're hungry at odd times of the day). At the start of the summer, Simon featured a number of ramen shops in the area that he loved, promoting that in the summer, less people eat ramen, so it can be more advantageous to hit up those coveted ramen shops during this time. But the other thing he promoted, which I did not even know about, was that ramen shops offered cold noodle dishes to encourage folks who associated the boiling sun with boiling broth to maybe consider a visit. Enter Ramen Matsui, which was a place that he didn't need to hype up, because a shot of the exterior had a few people waiting and a Michelin Guide sign on the outside door. Their summer special was a cold seafood broth made up of scallops and clams, seared scallop also placed in the dish. The noodles looked like silk threads, enlarged, and rolled around each other in a perfect knot.

Reservations take place three days early, catering to the four hours they are open for the day. I hesitated over and over, "should we go eat ramen this day?" Our itinerary already packed, but within the Tokyo metro mostly; however, we wanted to venture out west this day, so would have to stick around more in the Shinjuku area just to eat ramen (and not only to eat, but would need to walk fifteen minutes in the sun to reach the location). With the pressure of the reservation leaving the booking site, we took it, and off we went.

A short queue of reserved diners outside, waiting to get in. The noren, that cloth in front of the door that I never could think which way to part, obscured the inside, so I'd think "does anyone know we're outside?" A QR code for the menu placed on the entrance, which I missed entirely until we walked through the awning, would have been ideal to notice, so we could have a game plan before entering the building. Eventually, two seats open and we are allowed to enter. We stand at the vending machine, completely in katakana and hiragana, like they all are, but since this place feels a little more upscale, there's the added bonus of words I'm not entirely sure of the meaning. Staring at "shijimi," I confuse myself over if this is clam or mushroom. We check out the online menu while standing at the machine, trying to figure out our order and I see that earlier promoted cold noodle dish for the end of summer. Manifestation came true, because I worried that maybe the dish would be gone as the day prior was the last day of summer, and sure enough, the entry had been removed from the vending machine, but not the menu.

We each settled on a clam and scallop broth ramen, noodles, duck meat, and pork cha siu. I added an order of shrimp and pork wontons to my bowl, and with my handful of tickets handed them over to our host before being sat. I was sweating from being outside so long, and then additional, because I was worried about heating a hot bowl of soup on top of that. The employees, which appeared to be a husband and wife combo, worked in silence, facilitating the items for the customers and not much more. The husband, who was also assembling the dishes, would look in my direction every few seconds while he was preparing a dish and I was hoping that it was because he was staring at the tickets on the counter in order to prepare his gameplan. The wontons emerged from a fridge in a shallow, opaque white container. He carefully picked out a few with tweezers and tossed them into the water to finish cooking. His hands orchestrated a fascinating lift and twirl of the cooked ramen with the large chopsticks and placed them so delicately in his bowl. When served, steam rose; the broth was clear with a yellow hue; the duck and pork slices glistened on top; the vibrant green of the water spinach being a focal point in this brown and yellow ombre. The first taste was the soup, a powerful punch of clam (it wasn't mushroom) coated my mouth and a shiver on the back of my neck. The noodles worked together as a unit until bitten off and dispersed throughout the mouth, their velveteen nature immediately faded after being introduced to the toothiness of the cook. The wonton skin was perfectly thin and a fatty, yet clean pork filling, to make up for the lack of visible oil from the soup.

I never considered myself a ramen chaser, lining up early and visiting all the must visit landmarks. While I know ramen in Japan is good by virtue of it being Japan, it was always something I felt like I could have in many other cities if I had craved it. Chasing this specific shop though forced my hand to consider visiting more ramen shops into our itinerary and a desire to understand the complexity of the dish and how it's tackled in different regions.