It鈥檚 surely by now a clich茅 to say that winter is coming. But as I find myself walking past sushi bars and looking for ramen houses instead, I realize that it鈥檚 not just coming 鈥� it鈥檚 here.
I know this because I don鈥檛 measure the seasons by the leaves on the oaks or by my Daily Kittens desk calendar but by the food I crave: spring through fall are all seasons of sushi; but winter is for ramen.
And now I need my ramen.
I stumble through the streets of 麻豆传媒映画like a bear preparing for hibernation, seeking out a noodle cave I can call my own 鈥� and, as it could be my home for four months, I must choose wisely.
A decision this consequential can only be decided by a proper ramen crawl, so I tighten my scarf and head to West Robson, where there seems to be more ramen houses than there are people. Here are my findings.
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, 740 Denman St.
I begin my crawl at Motomachi Shokudo, where the menus smell as good as the food. Imported from Japan and made of spiced wood, they鈥檙e the first clue that I鈥檓 in for an experience.
The clues quickly build into a theory: that this small ramen house knows what it鈥檚 doing. Great ambiance and friendly staff set the warm tone necessary for a good bowl of noodles, especially during a 麻豆传媒映画rainstorm.
Of course, I鈥檓 not here to eat menus; I鈥檓 here to eat ramen. In this case, it鈥檚 the house specialty: bamboo charcoal miso ramen. This is likely the only place in 麻豆传媒映画that has it.
The broth is a dark, rich grey and turns out to be the subtlest of the crawl. The soba noodles come from a decade-spanning connection with a California noodle maker, and are perfectly katame, or al dente. The pork pulls apart with a single chopstick.
Motomachi Shokudo has spent 10 years not just mastering the art of making ramen but also the art of serving it 鈥� if you start your own crawl here, make it a round-trip.
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, 780 Bidwell St.
Speaking of trips, my next stop can also be found in Singapore, Kuala Lumpur, Jakarta and, of course, Tokyo. 麻豆传媒映画is one of the latest lucky cities to be graced with the presence of a Marutama, and I鈥檓 greeted with almost too much enthusiasm as I sit down at one of the communal tables.
The broth is remarkably smooth and rich, and a healthy portion of seaweed gives the bowl some colour. A sign in front of me practically yells, 鈥淟et us know when 鈥楰AE-DAMA please!!鈥欌�� This means that, for the price of a litre of gas, you can get a noodle refill. (Tastes better, too.)
Even more importantly, the jazz is fantastic. While it鈥檚 a staple of most ramen houses, Marutama has the best on the block. No wonder the staff is so happy.
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, 841 Bidwell St.
If Muratama is the happiest spot, The Ramenman is the homiest. It also has the best name, and the least traditional ramen with the most toppings: My bowl is covered in corn, black pepper, a 63-degree egg, green onion, cabbage, fried lotus root and two huge pieces of chashu, or stewed pork. I don鈥檛 get to meet the Ramenman, but he is my kind of superhero.
When the bowl is first served, it smells full of possibility 鈥� and it is. After three meals of ramen鈥檚 ramen, every bite at Ramenman is exotic. At the very least, try it for the lotus.
If you鈥檙e like Donald Trump and have a tiny-hands complex, be warned: The spoons here are comically large.
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, 1690 Robson St.
As I near the end of my crawl, I come to a place whose name is shared in hushed whispers by tourists and locals, Canadians and Japanese and Koreans and Jamaicans alike: Santouka, a place where the lines are long and ramen is a religion. Or so they tell me 鈥� they鈥檙e all starting to look the same.
But something is indeed different here. My shio ramen is topped with a small red ball. My fellow diners and I discuss what it might be until a server enlightens us: It鈥檚 a pickled Japanese plum. The website shares more: 鈥淭he red pickled plum on top hints the woman with red lipstick on, adding feminine touch to the ramen.鈥�
The tonkotsu broth is understated, and the softer noodles are balanced out with the bite of the shredded ear mushrooms. Each bowl also comes with a naruto fishcake. I don鈥檛 know if that鈥檚 the traditional name or just a product of the times.
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, 1610 Robson St.
A man can only eat so much ramen, and it鈥檚 on the furthest corner of the slice-of-Asia Robson Public Market鈥檚 top floor, squeezed in between the Japanese arcade and the public washrooms, that my crawl comes to an end. This unassuming food stall, occupied by an intense-looking senpai sorting receipts, is Hida Takayama.
Among the many poorly designed (and poorly translated) signs on the stall, I see the following: 鈥淗ida Ramen provides rich collagen soup, 33% more noodles, lots of meat and no MSG!鈥� I ask the waitress what collagen is. After I spell out the word on her order pad she鈥檚 still not sure, but the wizened proprietor comes out to explain.
鈥淚t is concentrated over a looong time,鈥� he tells me, spreading his hands further and further apart to demonstrate just how looong he means. 鈥淲hen it is cold, it looks like this.鈥� He points to a congealed gravy. It can鈥檛 be healthy, but it sounds delicious.
The ramen is simple, unrefined, overly salty and excellent. The bowl is cheap and huge, and comes to me two minutes after I pay. It鈥檚 no surprise that (literally) everyone I see in the mall finds their way to the ramen stall.
Maybe Hida, with its no-pretense, all-collagen ramen, is the perfect spot. Or maybe Motomachi鈥檚 ambiance will make it the perfect cave. Maybe what I really need to stay warm this winter is the feminine touch of Santouka鈥檚 pickled plum.
Or maybe I鈥檒l just have to try them all again tomorrow.
Hida Takayama鈥檚 Robson Street location will close permanently on Dec. 15. Its other location at 5615 Harold St. in East 麻豆传媒映画remains open.
