Another day, another ramen. I was braving the heat again to ride about on my bike, this time up by Akiba. On the east side of the highway, in that weird strip of tall buildings under and next to the tracks, I popped out of a random alley and faced this happy site. I try to listen to the quiet rumblings of destiny, or "the universe's farts", and thus would never say no to this circumstance.
That was even before I realized this place was called 'Syunpoo', or 'seasonal crap'. I love a place that keeps up with the seasons, and it's terrific that they're so simple and humble about the quality of their food. False modesty, though, because it's quite good.
There was another customer at the same time as me (2 PM), so I don't know why they seemed so depressed. Those papers above the counter list the merits of their product; I always think having signs in the store that say how good everything is smacks of desperation.
Especially confusing because I'd be pleased as a parakeet if I could turn out ramen like this - two types of pork; an almost-perfect egg; wheaty, tough noodles handmade in the shop; and a really good pork-bone soup. It's a mystery. This place should be a regular stop on the ramen tour of the central north.