It's been a tough week. After a difficult experience involving the aforementioned cookie dusted with espresso powder, I knew the best way to reassert my usually positive demeanor was to meet up with sister-friend Shira Marcus for a decent repast. Since autumn is in full swing, we considered a restaurant that could give us a warm vibe to go with the cooler weather...while avoiding all of the typical pumpkin spice-induced madness.
When one grows up eating Oriental-flavored Maruchan ramen purchased for 98c a bag from the grocery store (dressed up with nothing but frozen shrimp and minced onion), it's a true revelation to experience legit ramen for the very first time. I think there is a particular brand of irony surrounding the fact that the best ramen I've had in Chicago thusfar can be found on Archer Avenue in Chinatown.
The dining room at
Strings is modern and minimalist, while still managing to convey intimacy. Paper lanterns in warm colors grace the ceiling, and shelves of air-purifying golden pothos adorn the walls. The furnishings are light and unobtrusive. From where we sat, Shira and I could see some of the work going on in the front prep area- including an impossibly large piece of meat and bone (I think it was pork shoulder) simmering in an enormous pot. It was neat to watch the staff plate (bowl) the dishes, and I may have spent more time watching them than I did trying to figure out what to eat.
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Decisions, decisions. |
It's difficult to make a choice when
everything on the Strings menu looks amazing. Thank goodness there is a handy glossary of Japanese ramen food terms- I order sushi regularly and am comfortable knowing what I'm looking at on a sushi menu, but ramen accoutrements seem to have a different knowledge set. One unique section of items on the Strings menu showcases their "Hell" options- different soups of increasing potency based on the different levels of the underworld. I wasn't feeling brave enough to consider those...perhaps some other day.
Once Shira arrived, we quickly decided on our fare: she ordered the special Japanese curry ramen, and I picked the miso broth with pork loin. On a previous visit I recall trying the shoyu broth with oden- little bits and pieces of meat, seafood, and vegetables that can also be ordered
a la carte. We snacked complacently on edamame and caught up while waiting for our bowls to arrive.
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Top: Shira's curry ramen. Bottom: miso ramen with pork loin |
One of the most important Satiated City Chick tenets is that a dining experience is often made or broken by the quality of the company. Sitting across from a sister-friend on a crisp autumnal Friday night in Chicagoland while slurping ramen noodles is definitely the best medicine towards curing a bad mood.
There was much to celebrate, after all- Shira had gotten a new car and an amazing new job during the week, and I had finally made it through my busy time at work. I was also excited that I had managed to eat my entire bowl of soup- after my first couple of visits to Strings I learned to skip the previous meal in anticipation of an enormous bowl of savory goodness.
"You know what my mom always says about ramen?" I asked her, unabashedly slurping the dregs of my miso broth.
"What's that?" Shira said, artfully using chopsticks to steer tasty noodles (made in-house in a machine that was imported directly from Japan) to her mouth.
"It's not first date food," I chirped.
"And neither of us care," she grinned.
Thank goodness for sister-friends, Strings, and ramen.