Gold Leaf, Wagyu, and a Broth Poured at Your Table

In an earlier post, I mentioned that it was the 10th anniversary of Menya Isshin, our town's ramen shop. Here is what happened next. On that one day only, they served a special anniversary ramen—and it was, quite simply, beyond anything I had imagined.

A Ramen Without Broth

The bowl set before me stopped me in my tracks. There was no broth.

In the center lay a slice of beautifully marbled wagyu beef, scattered with flakes of gold leaf. I hadn't even tasted it yet, and already the dish carried an air of something extraordinary. This, I thought, is no ordinary ramen.

Finished Before My Eyes

After a moment, a staff member arrived carrying the broth separately, and poured it into the bowl. Then they placed a lid on top: "Let it steam for about ten seconds, and please enjoy."

I waited, as told. And when I lifted the lid—I actually gasped. The raw marbled beef, gently cooked by the heat of the poured broth, had turned a perfect medium-rare, glistening and irresistible. The bowl was completing itself, right there in front of me. Even the presentation was in a class of its own.

A Flavor That Sank Into My Bones

First, a sip of the broth.

It was salt-based, drawn from two sources: Amakusa Daio chicken from Kumamoto, and sea bream from right here in Ehime. Their concentrated umami spread through me, sinking quietly into my bones.

The noodles were straight-cut, clinging beautifully to the broth. From the very first mouthful, one thought rose up in me: "Yes—this is Isshin."

Sheer Extravagance

Above all, this ramen was lavish with its toppings.

Marbled wagyu beef. Fall-apart-tender pork chashu. A plump scallop, a deep-fried soft-boiled egg, green onion. And a wedge of sudachi citrus to change the flavor partway through.

With so many elements piled on, every mouthful wore a different face. Far from growing tired of it, I savored every last drop and every last morsel.

You Decide the Price

And here was the greatest surprise of all: the price.

This ramen had no set price. "Please put into the jar whatever amount you feel this bowl is worth." Not the shop, but the customer, deciding the price. What a bold, generous idea.

To express ten years of gratitude in such a form—I found it wonderfully stylish. As for how much I dropped into that jar… that, I'll keep to myself.

A Five-Hour Line

Isshin always has a queue. But this day was on another level entirely.

The line stretched clear across to the far side of the road. Some people, I heard, waited more than five hours. And the anniversary ramen was limited to 150 bowls—so even after all that waiting, some may not have made it in time. That much fervor, gathered at a single ramen shop, in this small country town.

(That day, by the way, the shop even suspended its famous fried rice, to focus entirely on the anniversary bowl. Their devotion showed in details like that.)

One bowl of ramen, and this many people lining up; this much of a story, born from it. A shop that stood alone in its town has become, in ten years, something this beloved. As a local, I could not have been prouder, or happier.

Menya Isshin—congratulations on ten years. As the Keeper of Zero, I'll go on watching this shop's journey for years to come.

ZEROSPHERE / The Keeper of Zero