You learned long ago never to take candy from strangers.
Even Twix.
But you also learned that it was okay to take ramen from a strange, unknown chef in the back of an under-the-radar garage/bar in Williamsburg.
Okay, maybe you’re just learning that right this very second...
Introducing Yuji Ramen, an unsung, unconventional, fly-by-the-seat-of-its-pants noodle shop that’s operating in anonymity from the back of a Williamsburg bar, open Thursday through Saturday at Kinfolk Studios.
Right, so this is sort of (emphasis on “sort of”) like late-night dinner at Ippudo. Minus the fanfare. And the wait. And all that damn broth.
That’s because Yuji’s noodles are a rare soup-less, dry-spiced species known as mazemen. They’re huge in Tokyo. Like karaoke. Or Family Matters reruns (we assume).
So say you and a companion feel like raising a glass in a place where nobody can find you. And say you also feel like chopsticking your way through day-boat scallops, pork-belly buns and sea-urchin-topped ramen. Logic would dictate that you seek out this low-profile white garage and find a place to sit (bar, table, backless lounge chair). Start with a round of Asahi, finish with a round of noodles.
Unless it’s Monday, Tuesday or Wednesday. In which case, there won’t be any ramen at the studio, but there will be avant-garde Nordic cuisine served in a glass-enclosed room.
You know, same basic thing.
Even Twix.
But you also learned that it was okay to take ramen from a strange, unknown chef in the back of an under-the-radar garage/bar in Williamsburg.
Okay, maybe you’re just learning that right this very second...
Introducing Yuji Ramen, an unsung, unconventional, fly-by-the-seat-of-its-pants noodle shop that’s operating in anonymity from the back of a Williamsburg bar, open Thursday through Saturday at Kinfolk Studios.
Right, so this is sort of (emphasis on “sort of”) like late-night dinner at Ippudo. Minus the fanfare. And the wait. And all that damn broth.
That’s because Yuji’s noodles are a rare soup-less, dry-spiced species known as mazemen. They’re huge in Tokyo. Like karaoke. Or Family Matters reruns (we assume).
So say you and a companion feel like raising a glass in a place where nobody can find you. And say you also feel like chopsticking your way through day-boat scallops, pork-belly buns and sea-urchin-topped ramen. Logic would dictate that you seek out this low-profile white garage and find a place to sit (bar, table, backless lounge chair). Start with a round of Asahi, finish with a round of noodles.
Unless it’s Monday, Tuesday or Wednesday. In which case, there won’t be any ramen at the studio, but there will be avant-garde Nordic cuisine served in a glass-enclosed room.
You know, same basic thing.