Quan Hapa Shoyu Ramen

Listen, if there’s anything I’m more into than soup, it’s words. And if there’s one word that’s said more at my office than any other, it’s NOODLES. Don’t believe me? Exhibit A: The only motivational poster I’ve ever made, and the only one I’ll ever need:

Double listen: Ever since Quan Hapa opened in my neighborhood and I had a delicious and giant bowl of ramen within walking distance, I’ve developed something of a habit. Whenever anyone asks where I want to get dinner, the answer in my head is Quan Hapa. I try not to always say it out loud, of course, because like any good 33-year-old I’m deathly afraid of being boring/dying alone/whatever.

So you think, Wow, ramen right in your neighborhood! Could your life be any easier? Yep, sure could. I haven’t told you yet about my enabler. 53t Courier is a glorious bike delivery service that allows me to order ramen from the comfort of my couch instead of walking the exhausting four entire blocks to get it.

This is how severe my addiction is: In the second week of January, I was thinking about what to eat (I mean, I was awake, so obviously that’s what I was thinking about), and I thought: wait, you haven’t had noodles at all in 2016. For a moment, everything in my life felt wrong.

Then I realized: YOU HAD RAMEN TWICE LAST WEEK, IDIOT. It’s so much a part of my being, so second-nature, that I just forget. Noodles = breathing.

So here I am, on the first day of Soupruary, in the middle of a pretty stressful time at work and in life, and I turn on the ol’ Hulu to watch the season finale of MasterChef Junior, and I see this beautiful bowl made by a nine-year-old:

That’s some asparagus concoction with smoked oysters made by Avery-from-the-Bayou, who I repeat is NINE, and it’s more beautiful than anything I’ve ever even attempted. I responded to this verdant vision of loveliness like any modern girl who hasn’t yet found the right therapist – by putting on Soft Clothes, picking up my laptop and deciding to eat my feelings.

Shoyu ramen with a slow-poached egg, delivered right to my door. Fried tofu that has a sweet and savory marinade soaked into every millimeter, smoked shiitakes (literally the only smoked thing I enjoy), perfect enoki mushrooms that soften in the broth to the point that basically they turn into bonus noodles (the most beautiful phrase in the English language), some DJ baby bok choy for good measure and a little dose of burnt garlic oil that takes the already umami-full soy-based broth to an all new level of YES PLZ THX. 

And of course, the noodles. This is as blissed out as I get:

Clearly, I aced finishing school.

Quan Hapa these days offers three broths: shoyu, miso and tonkotsu. My current fave is the shoyu - but I must admit I miss the shockingly flavorful roasted mushroom broth they whipped up when they first started ramenmongering. Oh man, I feel instantly guilty just typing that, because I'm oh-so-grateful. 

When I think about the good things in my life, this is definitely one of them. I know ramen is so OVER, but we haven't had it in Cincinnati long and I've missed it oh-so-much. I have formative memories around this food: going to Japan and being blown away by ordering it from a vending machine, going to Japantown in San Francisco and capping a Sanrio score with a noodle score, going to Little Tokyo in LA while I was in college and making spice-based dares with my friends -- these are genuinely my favorite memories. I hear stories of kids being spoiled with candy and ice cream at their grandparents' houses, and I certainly had my share, but the food-based-spoiling that instantly comes to mind for me is Top Ramen. My wonderful Mom wouldn't think of stocking that garbage in our pantry at home, but Gramma let me make it at her house and (gasp!) even let me add more salt to it. That's that good Gramma-love, right there. Ramen of all sorts doesn't feel like a fad to me - it's a soup that's deep in my soul, my number one food, and the most reliable pathway to instant happiness. So thanks, Quan Hapa, for a little piece of heaven on a stressful Monday night.

On that note, here's the T: I don't have time for a full-on Soupruary this year, so I'm settling for an amalgamation of sorts. Some soup reviews/recommendations, some recipes, and some posts from last year that never made it to the blog. My aim is to be back in full regalia for the 2017 Souping Season. Besides, let's face it. It's a leap year, and 29 days of making soup would just be bananas, and banana soup doesn't even sound good.