I guess it's one of those things that I don't even realize I want until I have a bad version of it.
And Oasis Restaurant in Pullman is one of those places I can count on to re-break my foodie heart and make me miss New York more than when I wander around in my usual sleepy haze of disillusionment.
A bowl of chicken pho, ordered from Oasis, it's only redeeming factor that it's actually quite hot. Tasteless broth. Overcooked noodles. Dry chicken, which seems impossible given its position in a bowl of liquid. Wilted bean sprouts. The surface of the bowl a tiny bit and mysteriously bubbly, as though the bowl wasn't quite rinsed after it was washed last. In all, a soggy bowl of unflavored beige, served in the most unappealing atmosphere of an old Taco Time.
Alright, soup. Game on. Now it's my turn.
In New York, the answer to this dilemma was always so simple: Go to Ippudo. Just. Go. To Ippudo. Snack first, wait the two hours with patient diligence, walk through the doors to jarring cheers of IRASSHAIMASE!, order to Akamaru Modern. Inhale the salty steam, dip your spoon, and swoon. There was no reason to attempt this at home. But now, following my disappointment, I crack my knuckles and give it a go. Akamaru Pullman.
How to Make Ramen: The Stock
First and foremost, the backbone of the soup, if you will: the stock. I'd saved the carcass of a whole slow-cooked chicken (this coconut-turmeric chicken, if you really want to know), plus the bones of some oven-baked pork ribs we had over the weekend. Some chopped onions and carrots, a few bay leaves. Covered the whole thing with water and slow cooked on low for 24 hours so every bit of mineral was extracted from the bones.
As far as I'm concerned, there's no point in ramen if there's no runny egg yolk to mix into everything. To be honest, I'd never soft-boiled an egg before yesterday, but I felt like if I was giving it the old college try, it was worth a go. I brought a shallow pan of water to a boil before reducing to a very low simmer, adding the eggs, and cooking for six minutes. (Sidenote: it could have probably gone for 7 or 8). Dipped them straight into an ice bath for a few minutes (Sidenote: could have been a few minutes more).
Then the marinade, which was mostly just made up based on what I had: equal parts water and soy sauce (maybe 1/2 cup?), a splash of mirin, sesame oil and ponzu. Clumsily peel eggs and dunk into a tiny bowl where marinade just covers eggs. Let it sit while everything else comes together.
Oyster mushrooms. Sliced beef. This part could easily be switched up: carrots and pork. Tofu and cabbage. Whatever! We did oyster mushrooms and beef, which I guess helped make the chicken/pork broth stand out.
Just a regular old package of ramen noodles, cooked in the stock. Here's a good broth-flavoring hack: Add the marinade from the eggs, and then adjust seasonings as necessary. Add a little miso, too. It's needed for that cloudy umami taste.
Topping it Off
Once the ramen is in the bowls, with mushrooms and beef and the soft-boiled egg slid on top, now it's time for last-minute flavorings. Sliced scallions, chili oil, grated ginger, raw minced garlic.
And that's it. It's colorful, it's flavorful, it's hot, and you're not sitting in an old Taco Time.