Scouting Ramen Kan

Location: 1/90 Hay St, Haymarket NSW 2000

Taste-type: Japanese

Price: Chili Takoyaki $5.50, Garlic Miso Tofu $7.50, Chicken Kaarage $7.50, Curry Cheese Ramen $12.80, Chashu Ramen $12.80

How to get there: Train to Central or bus to Capitol on George St, then a quick walk behind Chinatown. Look for the big sign and small hole-in-the-wall entrance.

Contact: 02-92116677

I am in a hurry and there are enemies in my way. Ever since the first proto-ninja stuck a flint between his far larger Cro-Magnon antagonist’s shoulderblades on his way to assassinate a Triceratops, this has been a cause for consternation on all sides. In this case, I am rushing to meet my second-in-command at a restaurant and a hulking cannibal is harassing civilians in my path. I kick the civilians aside, split the cannibal’s head like a fractured lollipop, and race up the stairs, almost running into my general. There is no need for words. We bow, embrace chastely, and sit.

With its grimy hole-in-the-wall staircase and garish red signage, Ramen Kan could well be mistaken for a house of licentious leisure were it not so famous amongst the gastronomically-inclined. Shy beams of light crisscross and dance upon the wood-panelled floors and bamboo-weave coverings; indeed, Ramen Kan could well be thought of as a geisha-house with noodles instead of women. Clients sneak furtive glances to and fro before scurrying up the stairs; we, on the other hand, step in with a confidence we do not feel. This is our virgin visit to this boudoir of carbohydrates, and we are flummoxed as to where to begin.

Chili Takoyaki sounds like a soft landing-point, Brian advises, keeping in mind my track record with things hot and Japanese. We have a lively discussion on our kill-tallies for the week as we nibble these crispy-creamy balls, unperturbed by the sweet and gently spicy sauce that drips into our mouths. It is a novel and charmingly chaste start to the meal, and we feel ourselves imbued with confidence to move on.

The sun begins to drop in the sky, and the shadows flicker alluringly over the char-burnt tops of our Garlic Miso Tofu, a variation on the crowd-favourite Agedashi Tofu with seared garlic replacing the agedashi sauce. It is soft and pillowy and has the faintest spice to it which makes both my general and I fall into reveries of sexy women. My Shooter has often waxed lyrical about this dish, saying it is very good, and I am pleased to concur with his eloquent praise.

Once described as the KFC of Japan, Chicken Kaarage holds a special place in the collective heart of my team. While these specimens are a touch too salty and gum up my teeth a little with their chewiness, I still sigh a little in nostalgia for missions past. I treat each piece like a nugget of gold, handling it carefully and consuming it with the utmost care so as to maximise its earnings potential.

By this time our conversation has livened up to profound subjects like world politics and philosophy and drunk people singing karaoke, and the ramen arrive just in time to moisten our palates and fill our stomachs to match our minds. Brian’s Curry Cheese Ramen lives up fully to its reputation, brokering an unholy alliance between cheese and chicken kaarage to produce an arresting and rather tasty concotion. We slurp down mouthfuls of broth which prickle pleasingly at our tongues. It is, as the Shooter would say, rather good.

Having had enough head-splitting excitement for the day, I opt for the more pedestrian Chashu Ramen, which surprises me with its ample array of pork slices (more than any other ramen establishment encountered so far). Having once studied at the school of Too Much Meat Is Never Enough, I am invariably pleased, especially when I mix juicily-slim pork with the tingling soy broth in my mouth. Ample spring onions and well-cooked noodles make this a treat to eat, and I finish with gusto.

Ramen Kan continues to burble softly as we slip away, a quiet oasis wrapped in a geisha-house wrapped in a very suspect staircase. Perhaps it is that air of peace, so unlike that of most restaurants in the city’s center, which brings food-lovers to its discreet doors again and again. Perhaps it is the extensive menu, or the low cost, or even the tiny Buddha which sits upon the counter. Or perhaps, we think as we step outside and find an army of cannibals feasting on their recently-departed colleague, it is just about the food. We have katanas in our hands and noodles in our bellies. And we are, as always, in a hurry.

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