These are creatures I made up but I wish existed in nature.
1. pumacorn - Resembles a puma but slightly less muscular in appearance. Has a single horn originating from the center of its forehead.
2. capybara Guinea pig - A Guinea pig that lives its entire life on the back of a capybara.
3. one-horned, flying hippopotamus (OHFH)- Smaller than typical hippopotami, has a single horn originating from its forehead and large, feathered wings on its back. Eats fruits and vegetables.
4. Herman's elephant - An elephant that grows to 10 inches maximum height. A domesticated, indoor elephant.
5. miniature pink dragon - A pink dragon that grows no longer than a foot in length.
6. stegoceratops - A dinosaur with a triceratops' head and horns, and a stegosaurus' back plates and spiked tail.
7. aardadidillo - Armored anteater that can roll into a ball. Its tongue can extend out even in ball form.
8. world slug - A giant slug longer than five feet with a map of the world on its back.
9. great white shark wolf - A large, white wolf with a tall crest of fur along its back.
10. gri-phon - Like a griffon, but acts cooler and is more attractive to female griffons.
Saturday, March 6, 2010
Friday, March 5, 2010
Deer Are Overrated
Everybody thinks deer are cute, but I don't buy it. Deer are like the squirrels of the ungulate world--considered more attractive than their brethren but really quite stupid and rude once you get to know them.Most people are exposed to deer at an early age. Nature shows often focus on them and portray them sympathetically as prey animals. The most famous deer is probably Bambi, of the eponymous story and movie, Bambi. The movie does a good job of glorifying deer as noble creatures, building up a lot of sympathy for the main character. But in reality Bambi is probably no smarter than his bunny friend, Thumper. Bambi wouldn't have stood a chance against that hunter if, A: the movie was real life, and B: the hunter wasn't an idiot.
My personal experience with deer hasn't only been limited to television and film. I've been to petting zoos, but more importantly, I came face to face with dozens of free-roaming deer on Miyajima Island. There, the deer are allowed to wander about while begging tourists for constant food handouts. The whole practice is reprehensible, as the deer are overly pushy and insatiable eaters. They butt up against you constantly and hound you relentlessly even after you've run out of treats.
And when they aren't begging, they're pooping like damn slot machines. Imagine bunny poop pellets, but way, way more. It just comes pouring out like you hit the jackpot. So there's small balls of poop all over the place, while they crowd around you like Hare Krishnas at the airport back in the day.
So for everybody who thinks deer are so great, try spending a little time with them. You'll soon regret it and realize they're nothing but prettier goats. Plus they smell like shit all the time.
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Our Noisy Bodies - "Boi-oing" vs. "Bwowm"
I once had a conversation with a friend about how the world would be different if we could see each others' flatus. Whereas I would take a more demure approach, he said if that were the case, he would break wind more often in public. I thought of this in a conversation with my sister in which I pondered what the world would be like if male erections and women's breasts made noise.
For the female breast, I assumed the onomatopoeia, "bwowm" as the appropriate noise, the number of "O"s an indication of breast size and general bounciness. For men, "boi-oing" just seemed right.
If our body parts made noise due to natural movements or reactions, would people try to downplay the noises or ignore them completely? I suppose if people had always been like this, this would be a moot point. But if a sudden variation were to occur such that the human body were suddenly changed, would we still be embarrassed and self-conscious about the noises our bodies make?
Initially, hearing such noises might be comical. An inappropriate "boi-oi-oing" or a sudden "bwooowm" is likely to elicit some titters here and there. In some cases, it might also be helpful. At a strip club, the "boi-oi-oing" (in reaction to "bwooooowm") would be clear aural feedback of a patron's arousal. But imagine on the flip side, a stripper who does not get a "boi-oing." It is one thing not to get tipped, and another to have an understanding of being physically undesirable.
Then there are those awkward moments, like introducing a guy friend to your attractive girlfriend. Or a well endowed woman jogging in a marathon. And how noisy would it be at convention like AVN's Adult Entertainment Expo? The constant inadvertent male "boi-oing" might become a perpetual annoyance to some, but white noise to others. And women might find the sound of their breasts nauseatingly loud with each increasing implant. But then again, if science can make a bigger "bwoooooooooowm" and longer lasting "boi-oi-oing," then it could probably come up with a way to make the two quieter as well.
For the female breast, I assumed the onomatopoeia, "bwowm" as the appropriate noise, the number of "O"s an indication of breast size and general bounciness. For men, "boi-oing" just seemed right.
If our body parts made noise due to natural movements or reactions, would people try to downplay the noises or ignore them completely? I suppose if people had always been like this, this would be a moot point. But if a sudden variation were to occur such that the human body were suddenly changed, would we still be embarrassed and self-conscious about the noises our bodies make?
Initially, hearing such noises might be comical. An inappropriate "boi-oi-oing" or a sudden "bwooowm" is likely to elicit some titters here and there. In some cases, it might also be helpful. At a strip club, the "boi-oi-oing" (in reaction to "bwooooowm") would be clear aural feedback of a patron's arousal. But imagine on the flip side, a stripper who does not get a "boi-oing." It is one thing not to get tipped, and another to have an understanding of being physically undesirable.
Then there are those awkward moments, like introducing a guy friend to your attractive girlfriend. Or a well endowed woman jogging in a marathon. And how noisy would it be at convention like AVN's Adult Entertainment Expo? The constant inadvertent male "boi-oing" might become a perpetual annoyance to some, but white noise to others. And women might find the sound of their breasts nauseatingly loud with each increasing implant. But then again, if science can make a bigger "bwoooooooooowm" and longer lasting "boi-oi-oing," then it could probably come up with a way to make the two quieter as well.
Time Train - Chapter 7
Here's a little change of pace in the ongoing saga of "Time Train."
___
Florentine Lily Porterhut sat in her chair in the salon, quietly knitting a sleeve to a sweater she would never finish. One day, she thought, she vowed to learn how to knit a proper collar. Next to her on a small end table sat the remains to many aborted articles of clothing: a mitten without a thumb, an open-toed sock that was more an elbow warmer, and something that looked like a potholder.
Florentine often filled the days with such trivialities. Her marriage to a young scientific wunderkind afforded her a life of luxury and relaxation. While her husband was busy making science, she would sit in the salon participating in one of her many loosely kept hobbies. There was the knitting, of course, but before that she had studied impressionist painting, the piano, and even the bandalore, a sort of precursor to the yo-yos of later days. Many hours she wondered at the strange device that rode up and down the string.
But secretly, both to Rhubarb and to herself, she dreamt of a life of adventure. In her heart of hearts, just once, she wished that her husband would ask her along on one of his scientific outings. She had no understanding of the sciences, in fact almost no inclination toward them at all, but still she wanted to be a part of something. While she also took kindly to Rhubarb’s dog, Columbus, she envied him something fierce for his ability to eagerly embrace her husband’s visions.
During her activities, her mind often wandered to thinking about where and what Rhubarb and Columbus were doing. And only recently did she have to wonder when as well. Perhaps her husband had gone back all the way to the time of dinosaurs, which seemed to be one of the few scientific topics in which she was interested. Or maybe he had gone into future to a time when ... when perhaps no person was still living. Such morbidity annoyed her and reminded her of why she disliked contemplating the very things her husband often spoke about in their bed. No matter, for as long as Rhubarb and Columbus were home promptly for supper, she would not worry.
“Bong! Bong!” the grandmother clock chimed from the hallway, breaking Florentine from her reverie.
“My, my. Two o’clock already? Where does the time go?” As she rose from her chair she added the five-and-a-half-foot-long sleeve to her pile of discarded knittings. “I’d better get to the butcher. Rhubarb is bound to be starving upon his return, and today would be a good day for a fine supper.”
Florentine put on her coat and stepped into the hallway, passing the grandmother clock and one of the few paintings she had been proud enough of displaying in her home. It was of a bowl of fruit and unfinished, such that, to other people, it appeared as the homely visage of a rather aged woman whose head was both balding and decapitated. Reaching for the door knob, Florentine took one last glance back at the piece of sleeve she had made. “One day,” she thought, “One day.”
___
Florentine Lily Porterhut sat in her chair in the salon, quietly knitting a sleeve to a sweater she would never finish. One day, she thought, she vowed to learn how to knit a proper collar. Next to her on a small end table sat the remains to many aborted articles of clothing: a mitten without a thumb, an open-toed sock that was more an elbow warmer, and something that looked like a potholder.
Florentine often filled the days with such trivialities. Her marriage to a young scientific wunderkind afforded her a life of luxury and relaxation. While her husband was busy making science, she would sit in the salon participating in one of her many loosely kept hobbies. There was the knitting, of course, but before that she had studied impressionist painting, the piano, and even the bandalore, a sort of precursor to the yo-yos of later days. Many hours she wondered at the strange device that rode up and down the string.
But secretly, both to Rhubarb and to herself, she dreamt of a life of adventure. In her heart of hearts, just once, she wished that her husband would ask her along on one of his scientific outings. She had no understanding of the sciences, in fact almost no inclination toward them at all, but still she wanted to be a part of something. While she also took kindly to Rhubarb’s dog, Columbus, she envied him something fierce for his ability to eagerly embrace her husband’s visions.
During her activities, her mind often wandered to thinking about where and what Rhubarb and Columbus were doing. And only recently did she have to wonder when as well. Perhaps her husband had gone back all the way to the time of dinosaurs, which seemed to be one of the few scientific topics in which she was interested. Or maybe he had gone into future to a time when ... when perhaps no person was still living. Such morbidity annoyed her and reminded her of why she disliked contemplating the very things her husband often spoke about in their bed. No matter, for as long as Rhubarb and Columbus were home promptly for supper, she would not worry.
“Bong! Bong!” the grandmother clock chimed from the hallway, breaking Florentine from her reverie.
“My, my. Two o’clock already? Where does the time go?” As she rose from her chair she added the five-and-a-half-foot-long sleeve to her pile of discarded knittings. “I’d better get to the butcher. Rhubarb is bound to be starving upon his return, and today would be a good day for a fine supper.”
Florentine put on her coat and stepped into the hallway, passing the grandmother clock and one of the few paintings she had been proud enough of displaying in her home. It was of a bowl of fruit and unfinished, such that, to other people, it appeared as the homely visage of a rather aged woman whose head was both balding and decapitated. Reaching for the door knob, Florentine took one last glance back at the piece of sleeve she had made. “One day,” she thought, “One day.”
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Celebrity Sightings - Kevin Eubanks
Since Kevin Eubanks has returned to his position as bandleader on The Tonight Show, this is a topical Celebrity Sighting. When my brother was heading off to USF for college, I thought it would be a good idea to treat him to a near-all-you-can-eat wingfest at the always classy family restaurant Hooters.
We went to the Pasadena restaurant and order chili cheese fries, a Caesar salad, and 50 wings of increasing heat. We ordered 20 hot, 10 suicide, 10 3 Mile Island, and 10 911-Hot, or whatever the hottest was several years ago. The plan was to work our way up through the heat.
Partway through the meal we noticed a guy who looked a lot like Kevin Eubanks sitting a few tables away, but it was hard to tell--he wasn't laughing constantly at someone's lame jokes. By the end of the meal, we were pretty sure it was him, since it's hard to fake being the tool of a tool.
It took us about an hour to finish--a half hour for the first 40 wings, fries, and salad, and another half hour for the remaining ten wings--but we did it. When the waitress came to take away our plates, she commented that she'd "never seen anyone do that before," although the tone was less than impressed, and more horrified. Up to that point 25 wings was a personal best, although I've managed to top that a few times since. The meal didn't do any favors for our stomachs, though. Neither did Kevin Eubanks for that matter.
We went to the Pasadena restaurant and order chili cheese fries, a Caesar salad, and 50 wings of increasing heat. We ordered 20 hot, 10 suicide, 10 3 Mile Island, and 10 911-Hot, or whatever the hottest was several years ago. The plan was to work our way up through the heat.
Partway through the meal we noticed a guy who looked a lot like Kevin Eubanks sitting a few tables away, but it was hard to tell--he wasn't laughing constantly at someone's lame jokes. By the end of the meal, we were pretty sure it was him, since it's hard to fake being the tool of a tool.
It took us about an hour to finish--a half hour for the first 40 wings, fries, and salad, and another half hour for the remaining ten wings--but we did it. When the waitress came to take away our plates, she commented that she'd "never seen anyone do that before," although the tone was less than impressed, and more horrified. Up to that point 25 wings was a personal best, although I've managed to top that a few times since. The meal didn't do any favors for our stomachs, though. Neither did Kevin Eubanks for that matter.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Whhhy? - Transformers Action Masters
The Transformers toyline was one of the best things to come out of the '80s. Transformers were like action figures and Hot Wheels rolled into one. The ability to convert from one form to another gave them far deeper playability, and made them fairly unique in the toy world. So how did Hasbro carry the franchise into the next decade? They made it so they couldn't transform.
Wha---?
That's right, the Action Masters line of Transformers introduced in 1990 saw many of the familiar Autobots and Decepticons molded into 3 3/4" figures incapable of transforming. Hell, they could barely move. Imagine an even chunkier G.I. Joe with robot features minus 7 out of the 14 moving joints. But how does that still make them Transformers you say? Because even though they had lost the ability to transform (according to the commercial, "exchanged" for increased ability), they could still make little shit that transformed.
For example, Grimlock came with a tank tread Segway that transformed into ... a gun. And Jazz came with a skateboard that transformed into ... a gun. And Devastator (who was also only 3 3/4" tall) came with a scorpion that transformed into ... a gun. Wait a minute, this reminds me of another Transformers toyline: Targetmasters, where robot sidekicks transformed into guns. But wait, even in the Targetmasters line the main figure could transform from a robot to a vehicle and back. I could keep on going down the line: Snarl and his little dinosaur buddy (so even though he can't transform into a dinosaur anymore, they can make an even smaller dinosaur that can still transform ... into a gun?), Blaster and his glider pack, Shockwave and his pet thing, Soundwave and his bird thing (not Buzzsaw or Laserbeak), Sideswipe and his tank tread thing, Tracks and his tank tread thing, Bombshell and his backpack thing, Bumblebee and his backpack thing ... the list goes on. And I'll bet you can't guess what their shit turns into. Okay, I lied, I know that you know exactly what they'll transform into.
On top of that, they somehow made vehicles that transformed into more powerful vehicles that they could ride in. Because, you know, you just can't roll in your super tank 24/7 cuz that shit's just too strong for the rest of the world yo, so you just drop the level and roll in the normal tank like you need to tone that shit down, know what I'm sayin'? Because why would Starscream want to be able to transform into an F-15 Eagle when he could be stuck as a robot piloting his own jet? Transform into a jet ... fit into a jet. Tough decision.
So in what couldn't have been a smarter idea in a toyline whose very name indicates their unique functionality, I ask, why Transformers Action Masters? Whhhy?!
Yokai of the Week - Kamikiri
Kamikiri are spirits that sneak up on people and cut off their hair (kamikiri literally translates to "hair-cut"). They are depicted as having scissor-like claws and a bird-like beak which they use to snip the hair of their victim. They tend to target people while they are in the bathroom. They are the barbers of the yokai world.
Monday, March 1, 2010
Robot Unicorn Attack - The Review
Rarely does a work come along that, once you've experienced it, you realize it is a masterpiece--everything about it so carefully chosen and woven together in perfection that it makes you wonder why no one had thought of it in the first place. Such is Robot Unicorn Attack, a Flash game from [adult swim].
Upon entering the game, the player is asked to "press Z to make [his] wishes come true!" The player gets three wishes (chances) as he takes control of the robot unicorn which gallops at ever increasing speeds over a sparse terrain of floating islands in the sky, complete with clouds and rainbows in the background. Using only two buttons, the robot unicorn can jump, double jump, and dash to avoid falling to its death or crashing into terrain and exploding into millions of pieces causing its head to fly at the screen. Along the way robot unicorn can also jump to catch fairies and dash through large star roadblocks to earn points. Each time robot unicorn dies, and if the player does not garner enough points, he is told, his "dreams did not come true." The player can then "press 'Z' to chase [his] dreams again!" But if the player earns enough points, his wish is granted, and he becomes "a star!"
The game is easy to pick up, but still challenging enough despite it's simple mechanics. Once you start playing Robot Unicorn Attack, you will find yourself at odd moments of the day yearning to play it--that is, of course, if you are not already playing it.
But the game itself is so much greater than its gameplay. The artwork is spot-on. Robot unicorn has the appearance of a metallic, robotic unicorn with a rainbow mane and tail. And when robot unicorn jumps, a rainbow and stars trail behind it. Gathering fairies yields more stars, and once robot unicorn has gotten far enough, dolphins appear, jumping across the bottom of the stage as if they always want to be with you, and make believe with you, and live in harmony, harmony, oh love! Which brings us to the oh so important music.
Accompanying robot unicorn in make believe, harmony, and love is Erasure's 1994 hit single, Always. When Erasure wrote and performed this song, they probably didn't know that they were really writing it for Robot Unicorn Attack, but they were. Always and Robot Unicorn Attack go together like stoners and White Castle. Hall and Oates. ToeJam and Earl. It's a marriage that was destined to be, and it couldn't be more appropriate.
"Awesome" is a word that is overused in society today, and much of its impact has waned over time. But imagine it like it was centuries ago, when hearing it was like a righteous punch of goodness in your overloaded gut, causing uriny bad-assitude to issue forth. Now take that and multiply it by rad to the power of sick, and that's what Robot Unicorn Attack is, full on awesome!
Play Robot Unicorn Attack. Now.
BONUS!!!: Always music video. May it always be with you.
Gyu-Don
Since I tasted some of Mrs. Winterbottom's gyuniku yesterday, I thought I'd make gyu-don for dinner. Plus I got spicy tuna and shiokara from Yama Mama Ichigo, so it was a good night for rice.
I got a package of beni shoga and about 3 lb. of thinly sliced beef brisket at the Korean market. The rest of the ingredients (onion, soy sauce, mirin, sugar, dashi) I already had at home. It took a rather long time to make a rather simple meal, owing to some personal difficulties, but in the end I made a gigantic potful of gyuniku.
I ate my gyu-don with a raw egg and shichimi. I also made horenso ohitashi on the side. Along with the spicy tuna, it was a delicious and filling meal.
I got a package of beni shoga and about 3 lb. of thinly sliced beef brisket at the Korean market. The rest of the ingredients (onion, soy sauce, mirin, sugar, dashi) I already had at home. It took a rather long time to make a rather simple meal, owing to some personal difficulties, but in the end I made a gigantic potful of gyuniku.
I ate my gyu-don with a raw egg and shichimi. I also made horenso ohitashi on the side. Along with the spicy tuna, it was a delicious and filling meal.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Santouka Ramen
Today was the final day for the Mitsuwa Marketplace's anniversary sale, and all the restaurants in the food court were celebrating by offering specialty dishes. Mitsuwa Marketplace is also home to my favorite ramen-ya in Southern California, Santouka Ramen. So after a morning filled with nine grueling full court games, we headed over to Santa Monica.
The place was packed, but then it usually is on weekends regardless of whether anything special is going on. I was with friends A and Mrs. Winterbottom (who's really a guy, but I felt like giving him a girly nickname), and we ordered specials from each of the restaurants. Since I didn't eat their food, I can't review what they had, but I can include pictures so others can drool and moan about what they missed.
A got the sake ikura donburi (salmon and salmon roe rice bowl) from Misasa. The ikura didn't taste too funky, so it's possible they used real ikura or at least a better quality artificial type.
Mrs. Winterbottom got the gyuniku box and half udon set from Sanuki Sandou Udon. I tried a little, and it tasted pretty good. It looked like a lot of food in the box.
(The normal chashu miso ramen.)
I ended up ordering tsukemen from Santouka Ramen. Before I get into today's meal, I should provide a general overview of their normal offerings. According to Rameniac's website (www.rameniac.com), Santouka's ramen is in the Asahikawa style, which features a blend of tonkotsu (soup broth made with pork bones) and seafood soup stocks mixed with the traditional flavorings of shio (salt), shoyu (soy sauce), and miso. Topping off the soup is a relatively thick layer of oil which traps heat in the soup until the surface is broken. This can be a little off-putting for some who may not welcome the rich, fatty goodness. I usually order the chashu miso ramen, as the soup has a richer, fuller flavor than that of the shio or shoyu. That doesn't mean the shio or shoyu aren't good, which they are, but I just prefer miso in general. The ramen comes topped with about two to four slices of tender, fatty chashu (barbecued pork), menma (marinated bamboo shoots), kikurage (wood ear mushroom), naruto (fish cake), and freshly sliced green onions. The noodles are cooked just right, with just enough toothiness so that they don't just collapse in your mouth, and they are also crinkly and perhaps a little more round than other ramen-ya noodles. The regular ramen is so good that whenever I'm in Torrance, it's next to impossible for me to pass up the Mitsuwa Marketplace food court and Santouka Ramen. Only the Local Place comes close to dissuading me from Santouka.
Now with all that in mind, tsukumen is a ramen dish where the noodles are served apart from the soup, and you have to dip the noodles into a bowl of even more concentrated soup. In that respect it's similar to other Japanese noodle dishes, like cold somen or soba. The usual toppings were in the dipping soup along with a marinated hard-boiled egg, chunks of chashu, and what appeared to be marinated green onion pieces. The soup, as it was concentrated, was significantly saltier and perhaps oilier, although that didn't stop me from drinking it (this behavior is considered unusual though). It was a nice alternative to the normal dish, although if it was a permanent addition to the menu I couldn't see it supplanting my usual meal. In addition to the tsukemen, I also got a chashu rice bowl, which is chunks of chashu with green onion over tare (sauce) covered rice. I find this side an excellent value as you get a decent amount of the chashu over a bowl of rice. I usually get this in the set with the ramen, though sometimes I'll make meal out of two of these bowls. So today's meal with the tsukemen and chashu bowl was very satisfying at just under $13.
Some other notes on Santouka Ramen:
- 6 out of 10 on my fatty-goodness scale. That means eating this regularly once a week will probably contribute to about a 6% increase in the likelihood that you will have a heart attack.
- 2 out of 7 on the mess-o-meter, which means you could get dirty, but can probably avoid doing so.
Santouka Ramen
Santa Monica
3760 S. Centinela Ave.
Los Angeles, CA 90066
(310) 391-1101
Torrance
21515 Western Ave.
Torrance, CA 90501
(310) 212-1101
Costa Mesa
665 Paularino Ave.
Costa Mesa, CA 92626
(714) 434-1101
Santouka Ramen Homepage (Japanese)
The place was packed, but then it usually is on weekends regardless of whether anything special is going on. I was with friends A and Mrs. Winterbottom (who's really a guy, but I felt like giving him a girly nickname), and we ordered specials from each of the restaurants. Since I didn't eat their food, I can't review what they had, but I can include pictures so others can drool and moan about what they missed.
A got the sake ikura donburi (salmon and salmon roe rice bowl) from Misasa. The ikura didn't taste too funky, so it's possible they used real ikura or at least a better quality artificial type.
Mrs. Winterbottom got the gyuniku box and half udon set from Sanuki Sandou Udon. I tried a little, and it tasted pretty good. It looked like a lot of food in the box.
(The normal chashu miso ramen.)
I ended up ordering tsukemen from Santouka Ramen. Before I get into today's meal, I should provide a general overview of their normal offerings. According to Rameniac's website (www.rameniac.com), Santouka's ramen is in the Asahikawa style, which features a blend of tonkotsu (soup broth made with pork bones) and seafood soup stocks mixed with the traditional flavorings of shio (salt), shoyu (soy sauce), and miso. Topping off the soup is a relatively thick layer of oil which traps heat in the soup until the surface is broken. This can be a little off-putting for some who may not welcome the rich, fatty goodness. I usually order the chashu miso ramen, as the soup has a richer, fuller flavor than that of the shio or shoyu. That doesn't mean the shio or shoyu aren't good, which they are, but I just prefer miso in general. The ramen comes topped with about two to four slices of tender, fatty chashu (barbecued pork), menma (marinated bamboo shoots), kikurage (wood ear mushroom), naruto (fish cake), and freshly sliced green onions. The noodles are cooked just right, with just enough toothiness so that they don't just collapse in your mouth, and they are also crinkly and perhaps a little more round than other ramen-ya noodles. The regular ramen is so good that whenever I'm in Torrance, it's next to impossible for me to pass up the Mitsuwa Marketplace food court and Santouka Ramen. Only the Local Place comes close to dissuading me from Santouka.
Now with all that in mind, tsukumen is a ramen dish where the noodles are served apart from the soup, and you have to dip the noodles into a bowl of even more concentrated soup. In that respect it's similar to other Japanese noodle dishes, like cold somen or soba. The usual toppings were in the dipping soup along with a marinated hard-boiled egg, chunks of chashu, and what appeared to be marinated green onion pieces. The soup, as it was concentrated, was significantly saltier and perhaps oilier, although that didn't stop me from drinking it (this behavior is considered unusual though). It was a nice alternative to the normal dish, although if it was a permanent addition to the menu I couldn't see it supplanting my usual meal. In addition to the tsukemen, I also got a chashu rice bowl, which is chunks of chashu with green onion over tare (sauce) covered rice. I find this side an excellent value as you get a decent amount of the chashu over a bowl of rice. I usually get this in the set with the ramen, though sometimes I'll make meal out of two of these bowls. So today's meal with the tsukemen and chashu bowl was very satisfying at just under $13.
Some other notes on Santouka Ramen:
- 6 out of 10 on my fatty-goodness scale. That means eating this regularly once a week will probably contribute to about a 6% increase in the likelihood that you will have a heart attack.
- 2 out of 7 on the mess-o-meter, which means you could get dirty, but can probably avoid doing so.
Santouka Ramen
Santa Monica
3760 S. Centinela Ave.
Los Angeles, CA 90066
(310) 391-1101
Torrance
21515 Western Ave.
Torrance, CA 90501
(310) 212-1101
Costa Mesa
665 Paularino Ave.
Costa Mesa, CA 92626
(714) 434-1101
Santouka Ramen Homepage (Japanese)
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