The Story of How I Ordered a Chicken and Egg Bowl at Marugame Seimen and My Life Turned Into a Pork Cutlet Bowl

Every time I go to Marugame Seimen, I harbor a secret ambition.

The ambition is to eat something other than udon. That legendary chicken and egg bowl that occasionally becomes a hot topic online, said to be served only at select locations. I want to order that one, with a cool face. I want to act like a regular and say something like, 'The usual, please.'

However.

Once I step through the noren curtain, the scent of dashi filling the shop, the steam rising from the pots, the line of customers sliding their trays, the sizzling sound of freshly fried tempura—my resolve melts away under the total assault of these things. Before I know it, my mouth is saying on its own, 'Oroshi bukkake... medium.' Where did my ambition go? It's like this every time. It's pathetic.

But today is different.

Today, I am firm. Firm as a rock. Firm as the rocks on the coast of Itoshima. I have made up my mind. Standing in front of the register, gripping my tray, not forgetting to smile, I said in a slightly louder voice.

'One chicken and egg bowl, please.'

I said it. I finally said it.

However.

'We don't carry that at this shop.'

Heartless. Those are words of complete heartlessness.

Huh? Huh? I felt like they had it before. That legendary chicken and egg bowl, I'm sure I saw it in some article... No, is that a fabrication of my memory? An urban legend shown to me by my brain? Like that hallucination episode of Babel II in Mitsuteru Yokoyama's manga?

But I must not back down here.

'Sorry, sorry, I'll just have udon, can you go along with that?'

I wouldn't say something like that, like some flashy guy around Dogenzaka in Shibuya, even if it killed me. That type of guy who changes his opinion in a second when his girlfriend says, 'Actually, I'd rather have ramen than a cafe.' I don't want to be that guy. A man who has lived for 68 years has his pride.

I answered at Mach speed. The speed of light. The speed of a god.

'One pork cutlet bowl, please.'

It was the perfect answer.

This katsudon is delicious.

The sweet and savory sauce soaked into the breading, the silky egg, the sweetness of the onions, and the piping hot white rice hidden underneath. I was convinced from the very first bite. This is a winner. The couple at the next table radiating a tense atmosphere—probably arguing about where to go on their trip—even their sharp exchange is now just background music. I can't hear it. In this world, there is only me and the katsudon.

I seriously thought they should just change the name of the shop to "Marugame Katsudon." They should take down the noodle-making sign and put up a big one that says "Katsudon Direct Sales Store."

—And having written that much, let me also write something honest.

When I got home and checked the internet, I found that opinions on this katsudon are split right down the middle. While there are harsh voices saying the dashi is thin, it's greasy, the egg is overcooked, the breading isn't crispy, or it tastes like deli food from some supermarket, there are also fans who praise it to the skies, saying the udon shop's dashi is effective and delicious, and the sauce soaks in perfectly.

I see. Opinions in this world are always split like this. It's the same as how humanity is still arguing over Kinoko no Yama versus Takenoko no Sato.

But I think it's fine that they are split. That's perfectly fine.

Because that katsudon I ate that day, in that seat, right after being rejected by the phantom oyakodon, next to a couple in the middle of a fight, was undeniably "delicious." Taste evaluations can change based on the weather that day, how hungry you are, and how many ambitions you've had dashed. And that's just fine.

Next time, I'll probably end up ordering the oroshi bukkake again, though.

Oh my, oh my.

#DeliciousShops

Student's note