Ra! Ra! Ra! RaaaAAAAMEN!

So ramen is misunderstood. In America, it's a sign of supreme poverty and desperation, and is most infamously known as the staple of college student cooking. You just can't eat any cheaper than ramen noodles. Needless to say, the mere word "ramen" can illicit some strongly negative emotions and inspire some gutteral groans of despair. And rightly so, I suppose (though I was occasionally partial to the "Oriental" flavored stuff).

But the truth is that this dirt-cheap food (...food?...) is some kind of sad, sick parody of what real ramen really is.

First, let's clarify what ramen is, and then let's explore how it is truly both a culinary delight and an art - dear to the heart of Japan.

So 10 cent (10 yen) ramen does not exist in Japan. I've looked. It's nowhere to be found. Japan has "cheap" ramen, but the cheapest I've seen is 100 yen-ish ($1). Still cheap, but not quite at the level where all pride is sacrificed on an altar to the gods of poverty. And instant ("cheap") ramen here is GOOD. Nowhere in the U.S. have I found any ramen to compare - except at the asian markets where they sell real, imported stuff. The noodles are substantially less styrofoam-y, and the broth just doesn't compare on any conceivable level. Often, there are additional packets of freeze-dried veggies and/or meats, seaweed, flavor oils, or spices.

Which leads me into another important point. Real ramen is a legitimate meal. Standard ramen includes at least one source of protein in the form of a hard boiled egg, marinated pork, or other meat. It also has onions, usually green ones, which qualify as a vegetable. That's the basic package. You can do infinite things with ramen. Noodles still take center stage of course, but they aren't the only thing worth fishing around for in that bowl. I've seen ramen with so many vegetables it might qualify as a salad and meat-meat-meaty ramen.

Real ramen is an art. Ramen restaurants are everywhere. On my way to Japanese class, about a 20 minute walk, I pass five ramen restaurants. Five. That's one every four minutes. But the magical thing is, every single one is different. Tonkotsu ramen broth is made by boiling pork bones for approximately forever. Exact timing, as well as embellishments, are dear secrets to every ramen chef. The balance of broth and spices and oils is as delicate as it is infinite in possibilities. I'm convinced you can visit every ramen shop in every corner of Japan and be delighted by new nuances in recipes every single time.

So what does this look like in practice? Stay tuned and find out.

This Friday I experienced a style of ramen called Ichiran. It's a chain restaurant that really made ramen real for me. Pardon me while I get romantic, and let me see if I can do some justice to the experience with mere, mortal words.

Coming into the door of the restaurant off the bustling streets of Tokyo, you can immediately feel the difference. The place is quiet, demure. In Tokyo, it's easy to get lost in the feel of the modern age. This was a step back hundreds of years, a jarring difference from the outside world in its simplistic, domestic beauty. Traditional Japanese music is subtly ambient in the background, and if you listen closely you can hear hints of the magic the chefs are brewing in the kitchen.

Perhaps for convenience, or perhaps to preserve the serene quiet, you order from a machine up front. In exchange for your yen, you get a ticket with your order.

Ticket in hand, you quietly seat yourself.

The restaurant is arranged with only bar seats surrounding the kitchen in the middle. You get your own quiet cubicle to eat in privacy, or you can fold it back to share your space with friends or family. It's a fascinating thing to eat in quiet, reverent solitude as opposed to a social gathering. It's almost meditative. It's a time to slow down and pause from everyday life and trade excitement for peace.

Waiting for you when you sit down is a slip for you to create your own custom ramen. You select every aspect of your ramen. You pick the strength of the broth, the amount of garlic, white or green or no onions, the amount of spice, pork or no pork, extras like seaweed or hard boiled eggs, and how soft or hard you want your freshly made, hand-crafted noodles.

In silence, you press the request button and an attendant lifts the screen and takes your request.

While you are waiting, you can sip water from your own private tap in your cubicle. It takes some time, but all perfection does. When the screen lifts, you see your waiter bow very deeply and offer you your ramen.

Eat slowly, sip deeply, and savor your Tonkotsu ramen in its full glory. You're in Japan and oh boy, do you feel it.