Chinchikurin - Torrance

If you're looking for a soupless Top Ramen for tired, famished, or imbibing grown-ups who can afford the better ingredients than college kids staving off starvation, say no more. The Chinchikurin okonomiyaki will deliver. 

I love the Hiroshima, love every bite of the chewy pressed fried squid, which despite bilateral breading, is pressed paper-thin. I love how its contrasting chewy almost-jerky texture contrasts the soft noodles and fluffy egg. The bed of cabbage is in balancing the mound of carbs.

The B&C, basil and cheese gets an easy A. The basil. Is everything. The cheese brings the crumbly salt and the fragrant basil is intoxicating. It’s infused into the omelet, it skims the pork and noodles, and it sinks deepdeepdeep into the crumbles of cheese. 

“Omelet” doesn’t quite cover it. "It's like putting an omelet on a pepperoni pizza and calling it an omelet," in the words of my husband. He's the writer. The real writer, obv and he's write on (because I can't let him tell all the dad jokes). The okonomiyaki is a meal on a single grill and more than one if you weigh less than 500 pounds. And have no doubt, it'll be the best three-in-one meals you have all week. 

Chinchikurin - Los Angeles

I tried okonomiyaki once. It was late at night in Kyoto, and we stumbled along the uneven alleys and inconsistent cobblestone to a rambunctious shop that made only one thing and made it very poorly. It was a disaster, a mess of random ingredients; weird pickles, overcooked noodles, and slimy sauce that I can only describe as what the kitchen floor would taste like after the kitchen was hit by a violent hurricane. I thought I hated okonomiyaki, but I guess I only hated bad okonomiyaki.

Chinchikurin is a game-changer. Their namesake Chinchikurinyaki is a boss mix of seasoned ground beef and eggs wrapped around al dente noodles. The slightly-sticky soy-based sauce is a viscous wonder.

The Loaded Kaisen is probably best enjoyed when loaded, though all these omelets seem to be the mecca of consume-while-drunk. This one is stacked with squid and shrimp which only makes it more fun. There's fluffy egg squishing between the crispy noodles. It breaks off into crunchy chunks, and there's a contrast of puffy eggs and a satisfying crackle of the noodles. 

You can choose to get your noodles soft vs crispy. Get both. Get all the noodles. Get all the omelets. And get them with beer. 

Issen Yokocho - Kyoto, Japan

It's a well-known fact that alcohol dulls the taste buds. When I don't abstain, I'll have one drink max with sushi, and I'll have two once in a while if the steak is really good. I find that avoidance is often wise, unless I'm going to Issen Yokocho. I'll probably have to have ten before Issen Yokocho.

You don't walk into Issen Yokocho for the Okonomiyaki, you stumble or you crawl. Their hot-mess preparation of green onion, egg, dried shrimp, grilled fish paste, flour, dried bonito, beef, ginger, tempura batter, konjak jelly, dried seaweed, and Japanese sauce is as much of an unappetizing hot mess as it sound. This mish-mash hodge-posh of stuff scattered carelessly on a grill is made for the post-pub stagger-ers who don't know or care what they put into their mouths. The final product is an all-out assault, non-cohesive ingredients in hastily thrown-together proportions, meant to be washed down immediately with a very large beer. 

The Matcha Ice Cream was an afterthought, a last-ditch attempt to remove all memory of Okonomiyaki from my mouth. It was a small band-aid on a gaping wound, a scar I won't soon forget.

An afterthought-footnote on their menu concedes, "If you need to get rid of these items, please tell us." Yes. I need to get rid of all these items.