My 2 Cents, Quick & Dirty Version: Daikokuya

Restaurant: Daikokuya

Location: 327 E. 1st St. Downtown, Tel. (213) 626-1680

Context: Two hours at the L.A. Auto Show gave my hunger a serious jump start.  It's pretty exciting to be Downtown on a Tuesday night, so to properly take advantage Katie and I headed directly northeast of the Convention Center to Daikokuya in the heart of Little Tokyo.  This ramen house has been heartily recommended by Chandi and Dan, among other trustworthy sources.  Such meals are also an emotionally healthy, grown-up opportunity to revisit some beloved food of my youth that used to be consumed in less-than-stellar forms.

Those countless bowls of packaged ramen Ali and I doctored up with eggs and frozen peas (!) as afterschool treats from the age of about 8 on were not part of a child's nutritious day's feedings, nor at all appealing to me at this point in my life.  After the initial recoil-inducing thought passes, however, I cannot deny the nostalgic association with crappy Top Ramen and "generic" ramen my grandparents in Texas would stock up on in preparation for long visits from their twin grandkids from California with the funny food tastes.  Ramen and rocky road ice cream from Tom Thumb -- the kind with marshmallow swirl, not actual whole ones -- were in plentiful supply upon our arrival, much to our glee.

Food: None of this information does any good for endorsing my ramen judging credentials, except to say a $7.50 serving of Daikoku "raumen" packs a wallop of intensity and goodness someone raised on shitty ramen interspersed with somewhat authentic Japanese meals can really appreciate.  (Aoi, our family's Little Tokyo favorite since we moved here, is located a few doors east of Daikokuya.  Which is not to say it's the best.)   

The taut noodles, bean sprouts, seasoned chewy bamboo shoots, sesame seeds, boiled egg with a taupe color similar to the kind you get in Yemenite and Israeli restaurants, and rich murky pork broth carries a power all its own.  This is worlds away from the clarity of a delicate pho broth.  Not better, just different. 

We also sunk our teeth into the crisp skin of the conjoined gyoza dumplings (it's amazingly easy to separate each one).  I particularly like the generous heaping of thinly sliced scallions placed on top.  Surprise, this item too is a marked departure from the frozen gyoza I used to pop in the toaster oven.  Man, I'm really exposing my childhood love of packaged and frozen foods here. 

Setting: You can't not love $2 mugs of Kirin Beer "on Top."  Especially when served in a narrow room featuring very hard red vinyl booths (warning: sit down too fast and you risk bruising your tailbone), vintage Japanese advertisements, a sloped stained and varnished wood ceiling, a packed counter with steel diner stools, and open kitchen scene where young hipster cooks are doing their thing. 

So?:  Will happily wait again, even on a late weeknight when I have fame da lupo.

Follow-up: Apparently linked dumplings is not the norm.  Did they dislike us?  What gives?