Suzu

If I knew the tiny ramen noodle house in the lower level of the Japantown shopping center was called Suzu, I might have eaten there much more often. But, I didn’t find out its name until tonight, when Colin, Eleanor, and I were looking for a place to eat. Colin suggested going to a restaurant on the top floor and I suggested going to Suzu—I had an excellent noodle experience there before and wanted to eat there again. So, it was a bit of a duel—Colin’s noodle house against mine—and I was getting nervous as to whether my noodle place was really as good as I thought it was. I couldn’t let Colin and Eleanor think I have bad taste in food. But, the coin toss spoke, heads won, and we headed downstairs.

Suzu is a tiny place, with only about dozen small tables. Pieces of cloth hang over the doorway, creating a sort of curtain in the restaurant, which is charming but also annoying to the vertically advantaged who have to duck to pass under. The same pieces of cloth wrap around the hanging lamp fixtures, adding to the charm of the small restaurant.

When we got there, all the tables except one for two were taken. The hostess eyed us, held up three fingers, nodded, and then asked a couple sitting at a table for four if they would move. They looked at us and scooted over to the tinier table. We said thanks as we headed to their former spot, and they asked us if we could do them a favor and hand them their menus back.

The menu at Suzu is a fairly limited one, boasting of handmade noodles that I presumed were made on the premises. After another consultation with the coin, I decided that the ramen with Japanese-style fried chicken would win over the one with ma po tofu.

After a short wait, the small waitress brought over a large dark bowl with steam rolling off the top. She placed it in front of me, along with a small dish of fried chicken, and I sat there smelling the marvelous aroma as we waited for Colin’s and Eleanor’s bowls to arrive.

After some polite waiting and still no more dishes approaching our table, I dug in (after the okay from Colin and Eleanor). And it was so good. Warm and soupy, just what I wanted on a bit of a chilly night with a visible layer of fog blanketing the city. The broth was rich and tasty without being overly seasoned. The noodles were the right balance of chewy and soft. And, the chicken, in its separate bowl, stayed crispy. The only problem I had with the dish was the steam fogging up my glasses and hindering my view of the noddley masterpiece.

When we slurped up all the noodles and broth, we headed back upstairs for dessert crepes at Susie’s Crepes. I had my favorite, a crepe with Nutella and banana, which always reminds me of the warm afternoon sitting on the slope in front of the Centre Pompidou with Boy Bryn and having Nutella drip all over my shirt. Perfectly lovely.