Tabata Noodle House - Great Ramen in Midtown

"There MUST be a ramen joint somewhere around here", I thought, when I started my new job in Midtown West (a few blocks north of Penn Station).  However, somehow I couldn't find any - two favorites, Sapporo and MenKui Tei - were over ten blocks uptown; not a feasible option given my limited lunch break.

Thus, I happily settled into a routine of rotating Chipotle, McDonald's, Bonchon, and the incomparable Go Go Curry, among others. But after a few months of downing tacos and burgers, I renewed my search and found Tabata Noodle House, located on a stretch of Hell's Kitchen not known for being a culinary haven. Heck, I'd go as far to say that a more unappealing location couldn't be possible, with the restaurant saddled between the Port Authority and the Lincoln Tunnel entrances. But it was a few blocks stroll and for that reason only worth a visit.

With all the options at ramen places these days, figuring out what to order can be tough. Tired of shio, shoyu, miso, and even tonkotsu? For a change, I opted for the eponymous Tabata Ramen, which seemed like something out of a Thai menu with the cilantro and red onion seasonings in the coconut-flavored broth. Think tom kha gai but a bit spicier.

It's quite a unique twist on ramen, and I've gone back twice to order the Tabata Ramen. Not to neglect the rest of the menu, I've also had the hot and spicy Lava Men a couple of times and loved it as well. Now that warmer times are here, I'll give the less spicy ramen versions a try, and perhaps the rice-based dishes. It might be located in a culinary wasteland, but Tabata Noodle House is a gem and fast becoming my Friday lunchtime mainstay. 

Pocari Sweating like a Pig in this Heat

I am beyond ecstatic tonight. On my trip to Japan a few months ago, I got addicted to Pocari Sweat, which is basically their equivalent of Gatorade. Despite its off-putting name (it does NOT taste like bottled sweat!! hahaha. So named because it replaces electrolytes lost when you sweat. Get it?) which makes me smile every time I see the distinctive blue colored logo on a bottle, Pocari Sweat became part of my daily purchases at the ubiquitous 7-11 (or Family Mart) convenience stores, or as shown below, at the even more ubiquitous vending machines dotting the landscape in Japan.



Why did Pocari Sweat become my favorite drink? Well, it tastes like Gatorade but only half as sweet. No annoying lingering taste of bubble gum in the mouth too. So, after coming back from the trip, I'd always wondered "Where can I find Pocari Sweat in New Jersey?". And tonight I just found out the answer: Mitsuwa supermarket in Edgewater, purveyor of all things Japanese. What a no-brainer. Sadly, it took a while for my brain to even think of Mitsuwa, even though it's only roughly a half-hour drive away.

Pocari Sweat is sold there in different-sized bottles, so I opted for the largest one - 2 liters of the stuff which will come in handy during this never-ending heat wave. It also comes in powdered form which I wasn't aware of, but the instructions on the package are in Japanese (duh), so I'll stick to the bottled version.


And guess who used to endorse Pocari Sweat way back in the 80s? No less than our favorite supermodel Cindy Crawford, who is shown stabbing imaginary opponents with her sword and who appears to have sweated a lot in the making of the video, what with that heavy armor covering the top half of her body.

Oddly enough, the bottom half of Cindy Crawford's body is covered only by some shiny flesh-colored material that I'm quite sure isn't meant for the battlefield. Oblivious to her wardrobe malfunction, Cindy practices her gladiator sword moves, then eventually tires of this charade (after picking up a hefty paycheck, no doubt), then cools off with a refreshing Pocari Sweat. As nonsensical as TV commercials get, but great fun nonetheless.

Konnichiwa (fake) sushi lover

Though still groggy from my 14-hour nonstop flight from JFK to Narita airport, I managed to somehow navigate Tokyo’s subway system (no easy task, check out the image map) and found the ryokan (Japanese style inn) that I was staying in, albeit after inflicting my rudimentary Japanese on helpful locals who pointed me the right way.


Determined to eat as much as humanly possible during my vacation in Japan, I went for a stroll around the Asakusa neighborhood (where the ryokan was situated) to check out the restaurants and grab a quick meal (The in-flight meals proved inadequate in filling up the big belly).

Stumbled upon Koppabashi, which is the kitchenware district (a perfect analogy is the Bowery's lighting district) of Tokyo where all merchandise related to operating a restaurant are sold.

The item of interest that caught my eye were the "fake sushi", almost life-like pieces of fish that are used by a typical Japanese restaurant for displaying their offerings in a glass window display case outside their establishment. If I was just a little bit more famished, I would've popped the fake sushi into my mouth, plastic wrapping and all.


(Clicking on the image above brings you to the food replicas slide show).

Check out more Japan posts here.

A Pis of Manneken for breakfast

Breakfast in Japan usually consists of something I pick up from the pastry aisle at the generic 24-hour convenience store. This is mostly out of convenience but partly due to the kick I get out of perusing the hundreds of varieties of cold canned coffee, which in my opinion can be boiled down to exactly two: black and au lait. Oh, and of course, to pick up my daily fix of Pocari Sweat.

One morning, my half-shut eyes spotted what looked like a Belgian...excuse me, a Liege waffle, and true enough, that's what it was. A closer examination of the waffle package showed the Belgian flag proudly displayed on top, as well as one of Brussels' most visited landmarks (read: tourist trap), the Manneken Pis.



I could hardly believe my eyes. How could a Japanese company have appropriated this much-loved Belgian icon, him with the fabulous wardrobe, and plastered the Manneken Pis' image on a cheap snack to be hawked at every 7-11, Family Mart, and Lawson's outlet across Japan? Why isn't the Belgian trade minister screaming loudly at the WTO for sanctions?!



My indignation was short-lived, however. I tore into the package, and pretty soon was munching contentedly on the waffle. Tasted quite good, actually, though hunger can muddle one's thinking.

As I pondered the situation, the more my views shifted to admiration for the business acumen of the company. After all, wasn't it clearly a master stroke to use a cliche associated with a foreign country to market products to the local population? The use of the Belgian flag seems rather dubious and over the top though.

Checking the website for more information led to nowhere, as it was purely in Japanese. (Or maybe the "Click here for English" was also written in Japanese. Hahaha). Anyone care to translate and help shed more light on this?

All aboard the Sushi Train!

Update: One of my friends said, "This is all very nice, but what do you do if your favorite sushi just never reaches you?". Hmmm, more food for thought.

Japanese food is one of my favorite cuisines, if not my most favorite. Although New York City has tons of Japanese restaurants offering sushi, yakitori, ramen, and even curry, I haven't really found one that offers conveyor belt sushi.

There are probably a few places out there that I'm not aware of, but they're far from being ubiquitous, unlike in say, Australia, where the conveyor belt sushi ("Oh, the sushi trains!", exclaimed my Aussie friend) places are everywhere, usually operated by proprietors of Japanese descent. Great for them, but why not NYC? Isn't that strange?

Sushi Train video

If you've never heard of conveyor belt sushi, that's exactly what it is. The sushi plates are placed on a rotating belt that moves around the sushi bar, with prices varying according to the color of the plate. As the plate that catches your fancy passes by, simply reach out and grab it from the belt. Your bill will be tallied up after wards according to the number and color of plates you have consumed.

Fortunately, my vacation in Japan gave me a couple of opportunities to hop aboard the sushi trains, so to speak. Not that I made it a point to do any research on kaiten sushi places, but rather stumbled upon them while sightseeing - one in Shinjuku, Tokyo, and the other in downtown Kyoto.

During my initial conveyor belt sushi experience, it took me a few moments after sitting down at the counter to figure things out, like where the tea cups were and how to get water from the nearby spigot. Everything is truly self-service, although the staff is happy to assist if you wish to ask the chef for a custom order.

Watching the sushi rolling merrily along the train tracks proved quite entertaining, though the signs puzzled me since I don't speak any Japanese. Sushi plate prices are clearly indicated on a chart and start at around $1.50 for two pieces of fish (e.g. tuna, salmon), and increase for more special items (e.g. eel).

Sushi Train video

I found the conveyor belt sushi dishes to be quite fresh and delicious, contrary to some people's dismissive attitude towards kaiten sushi places as being "fast food sushi". Since they're part and parcel of Japanese culture, some of the world's most meticulous consumers, I wasn't surprised about the high quality standards though.

On each occasion, empty plates 8 or 9 deep were stacked up in front of me at the end of the meal. The self-service aspect also meant lunch took less than half an hour, leaving more time for on-a-full-stomach post-meal contemplation: why aren't conveyor belt sushi restaurants more common in New York City (or the USA in general)?

Otafuku

Fancy some Japanese pancakes and octopus balls for a quick lunch? Just to clarify for the squeamish - they're not actual octopus genitals (I can't even fathom what those would look like), but more like boiled octopus rolled up in the shape of a ball.

A couple of classmates and I decided the weather was perfect for a quick stroll to East 9th St. and re-visit Otafuku, a small storefront selling basically three different Japanese street snack foods: takoyaki (the above-mentioned octopus balls), okonomiyaki (Japanese style cabbage pancakes), and probably the most mainstream among the three choices, yakisoba (fried noodles with veggies). For a closer look, check out the pic below.


Adventurous eaters and chronically indecisive people will probably want to try on of the combination platters to sample a couple of these somewhat unfamiliar dishes (and perhaps to hedge against a unsatisfying lunch). So this is basically what we did to ensure that we would taste all three, but since everyone was eager to try the takoyaki, we all wound up with box B or C as our lunch option.


The takoyaki and okonomiyaki are somewhere beneath all those bonito flakes, with the octopus balls also smothered with some kind of sweet sauce. When asked by the counter person which toppings we wanted, I simply indicated "everything", though not knowing what that term included. I did see specks of scallion and mayo among the things that he was suddenly putting on top of our food at blizzard speed.

We decided to sit and eat on the lone bench outside the storefront, somewhat amused at the curious stares we elicited from passers-by. They probably wondered what those strange-looking items were in our plastic take-out boxes. And why we were devouring them with gusto in public.

The octopus balls (six of them) were bigger than expected, piping hot fresh off the grill (don't stuff the entire thing in your mouth!), and were quite tasty. It took a while to finish the entire combination platter though, since it was more food than we thought - yet another nice find on the East Village for a reasonably-priced filling lunch.


As one of my friends says, "It's just like the tiny stalls in the small alleys of Tokyo". Ah, music to my ears - guess I'll find out in a few weeks' time how the New York octopus balls stack up to the original.