To Eat Ramen in Peace

Juxtaposed alongside nondescript warehouses and newly built luxury condos sits Ichiran Ramen, a haven for ramen-loving introverts. The renowned Japanese chain debuted its first U.S. location in Brooklyn’s Bushwick merely a year ago, but the bustling restaurant has garnered a popularity so large that it has begun to dominate ramen culture.

To step into Ichiran is to step into another world, with Japanese music in the background, a plethora of posters with Japanese writing on the wall, and a string of red lanterns dangling from the ceiling. Though Ichiran is a chain that has been around in Japan since the 1960s, there is a tangible vibrancy and uniqueness within its walls that does not appear manufactured.

The restaurant is split into two distinct compartments, one being standard table seating. The second compartment is what essentially drew Ichiran to its current state of fame and is where most request to dine; it’s a procession of “concentration” booths that allow people to eat in isolation, with minimal to no contact with the restaurant waiters.

I am seated at a concentration booth on a stool with wooden dividers on either side of me. In front of me, thin bamboo shades cover a wide slit in the wall. Hands of anonymous waiters then lift the shade to slide an ordering form towards me, enabling me to customize my own bowl of ramen, detailing the amount of seasoning and the firmness of the noodles.

After I’ve filled it out, the same hands reappear from behind the shades to collect the forms. It is roughly a 20-minute wait for the food to come. In that time, I am free to read the signs and posters above my head, which detail the concept of these concentration booths: their purpose, they state, is to provide all customers with the personal freedom of having an intimate experience with their ramen and minimal distraction.

After 20 minutes, the bamboo shades are lifted, and the noodles arrive in an oriental bowl with a soup spoon and chopsticks. On a culinary level, it is simple yet visually stunning. Scallions are presented on the left side of the bowl, a dollop of red spicy seasoning is placed on top of the bed of noodles in the center, and char-siu slices are placed on the right, all of which float in a steaming pork-based broth.

The ramen is rich and savory, teeming with umami flavor. Instructions on the plaque above my head tell me that in order to experience their ramen “the Ichiran way,” I should “carefully slurp three or four spoonfuls from the side of the bowl [and] then gradually incorporate the other toppings.” The scallions, char-siu, and Hidan no Tare (red spicy sauce) provide layers of brilliant flavor, adding to the underlying intense flavor from the broth.

Among many, one innovative facet of Ichiran is the kae-dama system, or noodle refill. Should I desire a refill of noodles, I can easily press a call button that prompts the waiter to bring the kae-dama.

Ichiran sells only a few other things in addition to their Tonkotsu ramen: their matcha drink, various Japanese beers, and matcha-almond pudding. The ramen comes at a minimum price of $18.90, and though it may be pricier than the average Stuy student’s budget for ramen, it is ultimately worth the price, as their dining experience rivals that of any other ramen restaurant.

Ichiran reassures us that it is neither unusual nor disconcerting to have the desire to eat alone in a public setting. We are given a moment to ourselves and a room to be fully present with the food in front of us. For the people who may be hesitant to try Ichiran with the fear of eating alone in public, they can provide more than a good bowl of ramen—perhaps an opportunity to momentarily reconcile with ourselves in our fast-paced lives as Stuyvesant students. Innovative in its ability to allow us to truly pause and appreciate food, Ichiran invents itself as an emblem of culinary mindfulness.