Edmon D.
Yelp
After years of imprisonment forced upon me by my enemies, I woke from another sleepless day and tumultuous night. A hunger within, I craved even the island cuisine of Le Chateau d'if off Marseilles. Truly the prayers and blessings of Abbe Faria helped me stomach the worst of Monsieur Armand Dorleac's offerings. Even the worst ones, which happened upon my birthdays. My faith in place and my constitution being all that I had to lose by not eating, I stepped within the realm of "Ramen Hood" with an empty stomach, an eager mind and open heart. My spirit rose for the counter man was kind and made polite speech with me. There wasn't anyone else there, so I was sadly reminded of my times with lost friend and mentor, Abbe Faria. Who had spent years in the cell adjacent to mine where we often had talked quietly, just as the young man spoke with me now.. I think that he sensed I hadn't had a meal for a while so he left me to relax with refreshment. The monsoon weather was here and the weather was cool enough for Far Eastern cuisine, which I know very much about.
My bowl arrived quickly and implements were provided. Although I am accustomed to eating with my hands, frowned upon in modern times, I accepted. It looked amazing. At Chateau d'if, nothing ever looked this well.
I hadn't eaten in what felt like days (23 hours, IRL) so this bowl only took about 5 minutes to consume in total. The marinated egg, although added in cold to the hot broth, was far better than the pigeon eggs we were fed at Le Chateau d'if. Although the murkiness of the porcine tonkatsu broth was correct it wasn't terribly flavorful. The xa xiu pork was fatty, something that I am also quite unused to. But it wasn't dry, just a little unflavored. The broth was neither salted nor hot, which at Le Chateau d'if we never received anything warmer than a bloody boxing of the ears! So I was grateful for the warm soup. The carrots were uncooked, far better than the carrot tops that we received from my former house of incarceration. I noticed that the green onions weren't completely cut through, which reminded me of the first dull knife I had used and then broke, mining my way slowly and gently out of my prison cell. These far eastern noodles were al dente, as Abbe Faria would describe them. Italia received this gift during the Silk traders ' wars, the gift of noodle and pasta. We never received pasta of flour and egg within my former home of rehabilitation. And as a former sailor, I thoroughly enjoyed the "naruto" as they called it! Sweet, salty and egg like in consistency it was a fun texture that I had never sampled before. Must be a more modern day staple, with the odd red color hmmm. Since there were no other patrons here on a Friday night, I felt blessed by Abbe Faria, who taught me how to read and write, and say prayers over food as well as to be thankful for every meal. The bright pictures they had upon the wall were far more artistic than the scratches upon my stone bricks of my cell walls. They paled in comparison to the harem I had seen off the coast of Turkey, rumoured to be modeled after the Imperial Harem of the Ottomans. The carpentry resembled the artisans of the Japans, and brought back fond memories of the many geisha who entertained my heart, cultured my soul and enriched my mind, many years ago.
I cleaned my own area, thanked the host and went on my way. I have had better Far Eastern pasta in both the Americas and the Japans, even in Europa and even once in the Australian wild. But I was thankful for being fed, once again.
Ramen Hood was a full star better than Le Chateau d'if and I hope others who sample this fare are treated as kindly as the host treated me.
We are always in a hurry to be happy,... for when we have suffered a long time, we have great difficulty in believing in good fortune.
Your Servant,
Edmon Dantes