Lets talk about ramen.
Now I know we haven’t made a point to talk about food (or games for a while). But blame it on me. I’ve been stuck with work, school, Talk With Board Game Designer and creating my own games. Hell, I know. Excuses. And they really are.
Anyway, let’s actually talk about ramen now, before my scatterbrain scatters. Again.
A month or so ago, Herb introduced me to this place that serves takoyaki, called Mimi and Coco in LES. In case you don’t know what that is, it’s bits of octopus in balls of dough with sauce and bento flakes and seaweed flakes and… You know what? Just Google that shit. I don’t have time to explain to your ignorant ass what takoyaki is.
So I’m all like, “Hell yes, we need to do this right now.” And he’s all like, “Okay, let’s go.” The first time we get there, there’s a big ass sign that says “WE’RE AT SOME FOOD FESTIVAL THING, SO NO FOOD FOR YOU”.
Eventually, a few weeks later after dropping off Herb’s daughters, we found our little impulsive selves in the area, standing in front of their storefront. They were at another food festival and we had to wait an hour and a half for them to open at 5. Now you must be thinking, “What a bunch of pricks, standing around for food they could’ve gotten at St. Mark’s. They’re no better than those Dominique Ansel assholes.” Well, yes and no. We didn’t have anything better to do and we didn’t feel like going home immediately… But that doesn’t justify the fact that we waited for our food, like every NYC transplant assface. Side note: Not sure if Herb can be considered a transplant anymore, since he’s been here for decades. What constitutes a New Yorker? What is life?
We sit down by the window after we’ve ordered our food. I ordered the takoyaki and Herb ordered quote-unquote “the most incredible ramen I’ve ever had” (like every other ramen he ever reviews, though to be fair, it was pretty good). We didn’t wait too long, maybe about ten to fifteen minutes, before we got our food. I went ahead and took a bunch of pictures, making sure Herb didn’t destroy the sanctity of the meal, before posting it all onto Facebook and Instagram. This is how we say grace.
The ramen. The broth wasn’t just the regular watery bullcrap that you get in NY, because Americans can’t handle creamy ramen broth. It was thick and full of beefy flavor. The noodles themselves were the generic ramen noodles, cooked better than me dunking a packet of freeze-dried college goodness into hot water… But holy shit the broth. And everything swimming in it. It was reminiscent of the ramen I had while in Shinjuku, yet instead of facing my father in a restaurant, talking about whatever sixteen-year olds talked about with their fathers, I was facing Herb. Herb with his big, goofy smile, and his “this is the best ramen ever”‘s.
If you ever find yourself wanting ramen in the LES area, go find this little eating hole. You will be pleasantly surprised. Except that it might be closed when you go.
The takoyaki was okay.
Mimi & Coco NY
92 Rivington St, New York, NY 10002
Price $$ I don’t know what the dollar signs mean but it costs money.