I’ve been eating noodles my entire life: ramen, udon, soba, lo mein, chow fun, naeng myun, kal gook su, bun cha. Noodles comfort me; noodles nourish me. I firmly believe that noodles will prolong my life. Noodles are my obsession, but they are not precious. They don’t belong in the rarified world reserved for such delicacies as sashimi or kurabota. Noodles are not about precision, they are about emotion. Ramen, more than any other noodle, is a bowl of comfort steaming with umami, salt, fat, and the memories of my youth. We’ve all slurped. From the ubiquitous instant ramen in college to the busy artisan ramen shops that make you wait on line for an hour, from New York to Tokyo. They never disappoint. They leave you happy and sated.
The days of instant ramen are behind us. The secrets to making real ramen from scratch are available to every home cook, thanks in no small part to Sarah Gavigan. What sets her apart from so many other ramen masters is that she is happy to share her craft and her secrets with the world. To demystify the process just enough to encourage us to try this at home. Because it is worth every effort, every minute of tending to a long-simmering broth, every ounce of your focus to skim and slice and boil an egg. Good cooking is simple. It is never easy or convenient, but it is simple. Follow a clear set of recipes—don’t try to improvise or make adjustments. Just be a student and follow the recipes and your reward will be the best bowl of ramen that ever came out of your kitchen.
The first time I had Sarah’s ramen was at her home in Nashville. On a lazy weekday evening, I drove down from Louisville. A group of us sat around the kitchen shooting the shit while Sarah carefully tended to a giant pot of broth and an armful of ramen noodles. Her husband, Brad, was telling stories. Nikki Lane was strumming on a guitar. It was a clear night and a southbound breeze was rushing in through the open window. The aroma of the ramen broth was intoxicating. I expected to have good ramen. I didn’t expect to have a bowl of ramen that rocked me to my core. It was deep and expressive and flavorful to the point of excess. It smelled of Japan and tasted of the South.
We think of ramen as a Japanese tradition. But traditions don’t stand still and they defy easy answers. There are ramen traditions taking root all over America. And I am excited by the transformations that happen when these traditions wash up on our shores. When they simmer and spread through a network of Japanese chefs throughout Los Angeles to land in the inquisitive mind of a young music executive who doesn’t even know that her destiny will be intertwined with this centuries-old tradition. And when she brings these techniques to Nashville and starts feeding the hungry crowds in the American South, a new tradition starts to bloom. One that is singularly unique and yet respectful at the same time. It is delicious. It is different. It is Otaku.
Residents of Nashville have long known how good her ramen is. And now Sarah is sharing her secrets in these pages that represent a decade of dedication and obsession. I can’t tell you how excited I am for this book to make it out there in the world. She is going to empower an army of home cooks to make ramen at home. The right way. She will educate a generation of cooks to obsess over broth and pork belly and mazemen. I am smiling just imagining all the steaming bowls of ramen that will be taking over the home kitchens across America. Slurp away.
CHEF EDWARD LEE