Restaurant Experience: Momofuku Noodle Bar, NYC

So I'm back in New York, if most of you couldn't tell.

Since my access to a kitchen is limited to the graces of my friends with apartments - along with cooking utensils and an affection for my cooking - I will not be posting too many recipe blogs for the course of this year. Unless of course Kate decides to have me be her live-in maid and cook in exchange for room and board and a college degree. Oh wait, that won't happen. Sadly.

Luckily enough for me I'm residing in one of the most culturally, and culinarily (I love that 'culinarily' is a word because it makes my love for food sound so much more academic), diverse cities in the world, all accessible to me via a US$2.15 (or US$2.50 if you buy a single pass) metro subway ride, and a brisk stroll or two. Or three. Or four. Sometimes just having one thing isn't enough, so I snack my way through Manhattan hoping my brisk strolls will cancel out the calories I'm violently ingesting. Yes, thank you, I'm aware that isn't the actual case.

Sorry, having an angry "fat" Asian moment there. I'm done, I promise. Maybe.

No, actually, I'm not done. Speaking of "fat" Asians, I've found another companion to join me on my foodscapades in the city!

Meet Roger. Roger is hungry.

Roger was a classmate of mine at SAT cram school back in Taiwan over the summer of 2007. This graciously well-mannered fellow is now attending grad school at NYU for bio, trying to revolutionize the world by becoming the first Asian scientist who can actually speak English and has a social life. Or something. No, he's actually quite brilliant and I have faith that he will accomplish something great one day, but for the time being I'm quite content with having him just being someone who will traipse around and eat things with me.

Yesterday afternoon I somehow gathered my wits about me and dragged my bones into the city. Roger and I had made plans for lunch earlier in the week but had to push them back a few hours for school plans, so I just hiked over to the Strand and browsed for gems from the $1 and $2 racks lining E12th street.

After managing to acquire 4 books for $5.44, Roger met up with me and we hiked over to 1st Avenue and 10th for our first Momofuku Noodle Bar experience. (Momofuku means "lucky peach" in Japanese, according to the website. How cute is that? Their logo kind of looks like a tangerine, though.) I call this blog post an "experience" as opposed to a "review" because, let's face it: who am I to review Momofuku? It doesn't mean I don't have my opinions to express, because I always have my opinions to express, but the general consensus of the place is that it's just awesome.

And I agree.

I've been having a massive ramen craving since I set foot into this city, and my little stint at Ramen Setagaya just didn't quite hit the spot given that their broth was a tad on the greasy and salty side, and my noodle-tooth wasn't satisfied with the mediocre flat noodles they used. To be fair though, my stomach has been a little unsettled lately thanks to the atrocities it's been witnessing in the school dining hall. This makes my foodie life very, very difficult. Damn you, Wagner College. Damn you.

Dinner service at Noodle Bar starts at 5:30PM, but since they don't accept reservations, there was already a decent line waiting outside when we arrived at 5:15PM. When we were finally let in, a quick look around showed a general sit-down area and two bar areas, one in front of the open kitchen and one towards the front of the store in front of a wall - much less exciting. I would've very much enjoyed sitting in front of the kitchen, but at least we didn't get placed at one of the long tables where people were mandated to share, bumping elbows whilst slurping noodles.

I prefer to slurp my noodles without having to cuddle wenises with someone I don't know.

Momofuku's website provided no indication as to prices, leaving me with a bit of fear in my heart, expecting to empty my wallet over their famed pork belly buns. After surveying the menu I decided that my heart (and stomach) were screaming for ramen, so I found a happy medium and ordered a $16 Momofuku Ramen, which - according to the menu - is "pork belly, pork shoulder, poached egg". Roger opted for the $15 Spicy Miso Ramen, "smoked chicken, swiss chard, sesame". We both got a side of $3 kimchi jar because the "side order" menu was dangling right across from us and we were both too hungry to resist ordering a little amuse-bouche.

While we waited for our food, Roger and I debated how much we wanted pork belly buns and kept second-guessing ourselves as to whether or not we would regret the decision if we ordered them. I pointed out that the bowls they were filling up in the kitchen were rather large, and he made the counter-argument that they don't ever fill up the bowls all the way - except for "Shoki Ramen" in Sacramento, CA apparently. I'll have to check that out when I go over for Thanksgiving (I just ran this past Elliot, he wholeheartedly agrees) - and I agreed with him but said we should at least have some of the ramen before we decided whether or not to order pork belly buns, his rebuttal was that we could split the order, which came with two buns. I was almost certain that he was going to launch into a massive speech about quantum biomechanics or somewhat sort of scientific theory to back his viewpoints but the kimchi jars arrived, and that put an end to our riveting debate.

HOW CUTE IS THIS!?

It wasn't the best kimchi that I have had in New York. Roger and I both wholeheartedly agreed that it was too sweet, but it had enough of a kick to it that just kept me digging in. I suspect that these may be home made, which is a sentiment that I really appreciate, but maybe a little could be said for their craft. I don't claim to be a kimchi fermenting expert at all, so don't expect me to have any pointers. The texture was excellent though - no complaints in that department.

Roger's ramen arrived before mine did, and he was kind enough to wait for mine to be set down in front of me before he dug into his bowl. We amused ourselves in the mean time by being Asians and taking pictures of our food just as all other Asians do in every restaurant.

Spicy Miso Ramen ($15) - Smoked Chicken, Swiss Chard, Sesame.

Just look at that beautifully poached egg. It's an absolute sin how gorgeous it is.

Ungghhhhhhh.

Thankfully, my massive bowl of ramen was set in front of me not too long after Roger's arrived, and we both dug in whole heartedly with our disposable chopsticks and white plastic spoons.

Momofuku Ramen ($16) - Pork Belly, Pork Shoulder, Poached Egg

As a die-hard fan of pork bone broth (tonkototsu) ramen, I was just the tiniest bit disappointed when I didn't see gorgeous, greasy, milky-white broth in front of me, but that disappointment was quickly left behind me once I dipped my spoon into the soy sauce broth. First impressions, if I remember correctly, were that it was nice and silky in a very clear and refreshing manner. The salt-level was a little high for me, but maybe I was just bitter about the fact that I wasn't having tonkotsu. It's not their fault.

The noodles were excellent. They were just the right al dente texture and their round shape was a welcome and familiar experience in comparison to the flat ones at Setagaya, which just made me feel like I was eating a very fatty bowl of dan dan mien. I'm usually a fan of the fatter noodles, but those go better with a thicker broth - so these thinner ones actually made for a great complement.

I'm not a fan of swiss chard, but coupled with the kimchi we had earlier it was definitely a good addition. Crunch is very important in ramen bowls, and my favorite form of ramen crunch that I've found was at Rakumenya (樂麵屋) back home in Taiwan with seaweed fritters.

The scallions was not in short supply, which is just as impressive as it is delicious.

The shredded pork shoulder provided for a different texture from the slippery noodles and crunchy swiss chard. Firmer and leaner than the pork belly, it definitely was a nice touch, though I did find myself waxing nostalgic for the traditional round slices found on tonkotsu ramen. OKAY YES, I LOVE TONKOTSU RAMEN. DEAL. The pork belly was melt in your mouth delicious and the fat had been rendered out enough that it wasn't too greasy to stomach. It's still not for the faint of heart, though. Having grown up picking out fish eyeballs from fish skulls and chowing down on braised pig skin, it was great. But if you're a WASP type who can barely move past pasta with tomato sauce and a cold-cut sandwich: this isn't for you.

You've been warned.

I loved the two massive slices of seaweed that adorned the side of the bowl. Seaweed was always my favorite childhood snack, and it was the only snack that my mother ever really allowed me to eat, seeing as they're usually low in sodium and basically cholestrol-free. If I remember correctly. I could just be justifying my life decisions. But the nice, clean, earthy flavor of the seaweed in this case balanced out the saltiness of the soup and the tang of the swiss chard, and I found myself subconsciously rationing out seaweed to ramen bowl ratios as I ate.

Now for the egg.

This glorious poached egg that resembles an alien life form more than anything else I've ever seen in my life was a revelation. Or maybe it resembles a blob fish. Either way, looks don't matter in this case. I must apologize for not having taken a picture of the egg after I bit into it, because I was actually too overwhelmed by the most amazingly poached egg to even bother picking up my camera to photograph its epic nature.

It was golden liquid sunshine laced with silk and cashmere. It was the most luxurious of cheese sauces that teased your palette with only the most delicate of flavors, hinting at something more, before it glided past your senses, undetectable. A soft, tragically beautiful violin aria might have whispered in the back of my mind. Am I being ridiculous? Do you think I'm stepping out of line? Well maybe you should go have one of Momofuku Noodle Bar's poached eggs before you try to tell me what not to do when describing poached eggs.

In short, this was the most phenomenal egg I've ever tasted in my life.

Finally, after we were both about halfway through our bowls, Roger decided that this meal was going to be an absolute piece of cake for him and that he was indeed going to order the pork belly buns. He also decided that I was to have a bite of one of them, and that I had no choice in the matter.

"Okaaaaay, fine, I guess if you insist I'll eat some of your delicious food."

When the pork buns arrived, I had already eaten as much of my ramen as I could have without my stomach deciding to throw a tantrum and then go on strike. Roger picked his up without a moment's hesitation and bit into it (resulting in the second picture of this post) with great enthusiasm. After a string of expletives and praises that rained upon my ears in rapid succession from my satisfied neighbor, I was prompted to pick one of the buns up myself and taste it for myself.

"THIS IS SO AMAZING."

Now, I am no stranger to pork belly buns. They're known as gua bao (刈包) back in Taiwan, one of the fancier street delicacies that can sometimes also be topped with powdered peanuts. One of my mother's favorite restaurants that we frequent is most famous for their Shanghai styled soup dumplings, but we almost always order gua bao, which comes simply as a massive dish of Dong-Po braised pork belly (東坡肉) drenched in the sweet soy sauce and hoisin glaze. The steamed pancakes are placed on the side along with a mountain of long thin scallion slices and parsley so the little sandwich buns can be assembled to everyone's own taste: an extra dash of hoisin sauce or a massive pile of scallions. Whatever floats your boat.

Momofuku's take did not disappoint.

The steamed buns are nice and fluffy, and just thick enough to balance the meat ratio without overwhelming it. Instead of parsley and scallions, they've used thin slices of cucumber (Might have been lightly pickled? Couldn't tell) which adds just the tiniest bit of sweetness along with the great crunch and refreshing lightness. The Hoisin sauce wasn't too greasy with just the right amount of tangy sugary bite, and the pork belly was braised within an inch of its life, melting immediately in your mouth as soon as any pressure is put on it. And all over your hands.

My only complaint is that they did not leave the skin on there, a vacant spot which could have been a golden-brown vessel of sweetness and gelatinous glory.

All in all, this was an absolutely glorious experience, and I managed to talk Roger into putting off homework and joining me for a celebratory drink at McSorley's, because nothing goes better than fatty, fatty pork belly than a nice walk, a smoke, and two pints of light ale.

Until next time, my lucky peach.

Momofuku Noodle Bar
http://momofuku.com/new-york/noodle-bar/

171 First Avenue
(Between E 10th and E 11th)
New York, NY 10003
You can take the L train to 1st ave walk a few blocks south, or the 6 to Astor Place or R or N to 8th street and walk from Broadway.

Price: $-$$$ (Depending on what you eat and if you share)