Daikokuya Sawtelle - Los Angeles

I can still taste the drops of kotteri from their Little Tokyo location three years ago. 

I know what I want, and I know what to expect, but I'm seduced by the idea of the newer Spicy Miso. "I can't recommend it," my server says when I inquire. He doesn't make eye contact and squirms just the slightest so I let my friends take the plunge. I know I made the right decision when I taste their soup. It does taste like miso with spice, but the granules don't harmonize, and you leave the thin broth feeling rather incomplete.

The classic Daikokuya Ramen is to die for. It is as thick and fatty as I remember, so rich it froths like viscous cream. The kotteri plays a supporting role, adding to the savor without congealing like Tsujita. I sip and I slurp with equal voracity, droplets of broth dripping from firm, ropy noodles.

Fantastic ramen makes my night, but I'm already thinking about the next day. Ramen won't keep, but the Chashu Bowl sure will. Droplets of fat fall from the shreds of soft belly of pork, and the grains of rice catch them as they descend through the layers beneath. It's a great bowl when it's fresh, but put it in a microwave-safe bowl the next day and it's better. 

In most cities, a perfect bowl of ramen is but an urban legend. In LA, it is a fact of life. We live that legend, those lucky enough to live near Torrance, Little Tokyo or Sawtelle. Daikokuya itself is a legend, and it's been crowned king more than once. There's a reason it tops the charts year after year, and there's a reason I'll be back in way less than a year!

Daikokuya – Los Angeles

Din Tai Fung may be an embarrassment to the Chinese, but Daikokuya should be the pride and joy of the Japanese across the narrow sea. And for those who are fans of Game of Thrones (and actually understand my reference to the narrow sea, let's just say the only thing better than watching tonight’s premiere would be watching tonight’s premiere with a bowl from Daikokuya.

I wouldn’t cross any sea for the pan-fried Gyoza, not even the Dothraki sea we call the 405, but I’m a little biased because these little pan-fried pickings are right on par with my mother’s best. They do have a good ground pork filling, and the frying keeps them crisp and fun. I don’t know what they’re fried in, but I found the thin sheet of something that binds them together to be surprisingly exciting. Not quite as exciting as marrying a Dothraki khal but almost enough to justify a horseride to Little Tokyo.

The Daikoku Ramen, on the other hand, is well worth a transcontinental journey, and it only took me 45 minutes with traffic. I prefer the wider, chewier, pasta-esque noodles of Torrance’s ramen-sensation Santouka to the thinner, equally eggy ones at Daikokuya, but it’s really a matter of whatever you want. Cersei was hot, but Robert preferred pretty much every other woman in Westeros. Like I said, to each his own but try not to go...STAG. The chashu made me want more, and the broth around it is fit for a king. Just ask for kotteri to get all the rich, golden pork-back oils of Casterly Rock.

I may not live in Kings Landing, but I do live in Torrance, which is the true home of every bowl of ramen known to man. Thus, I’m usually hard-pressed to drive an hour away from my couch to have some, but I think I’d even take my chances at the Red Wedding if they got Daikokuya to cater.