David L.
Yelp
Mazemen at Wadaya: Ramen's Soup-Free, Dropout Sibling~~
Once upon a time in Nagoya, a bowl of ramen stared into its broth and said, "I'm done." No more soup. No more swimming. Just vibes. Thus emerged mazemen--a noodle dish so slick, so saucy, it didn't need liquid courage to make its point.
They called it "Taiwan mazesoba," presumably because someone thought slapping "Taiwan" on it would make it sound spicy and mysterious, like a Tinder bio that says "world traveler" but really just means they went to Cancun once. Why Taiwan? No clue. I'm Taiwanese--I checked. We didn't invent it, we didn't endorse it, and we definitely didn't cater the event.
Now, fast-forward to Wadaya in Fremont, CA. They don't call it Taiwan mazesoba, and they don't need to. Their mazemen speaks for itself--loudly, fluently, and with a mouthful of attitude.
I ate it with my wife, Wendy W, who posted her own review above. The mazemen was so good, I had no choice but to write my own. It demanded a second voice.
It tastes like soy sauce, garlic, chili oil, and pork formed a jazz band, had a messy breakup, got back together, and dropped the hottest track of the year--direct to your taste buds. It's savory like a secret, spicy like gossip, umami like a monk's enlightenment, and just sweet enough to make you rethink your entire personality.
The noodles are chewy like they've been training for a pasta triathlon. The toppings? Unhinged. Like they escaped a farmer's market rave and brought backup. Every bite is a full-contact sport--your tongue gets tackled by flavor wearing a kimono and combat boots.
Mazemen isn't ramen's cousin. It's ramen's rebellious younger sibling who dropped out of culinary school, started a food truck, and now has a cult following. Wadaya didn't just serve me noodles--they served me a manifesto.