Why is there takuan next to ramen in Miyazaki? (Satoimo Main Store)

Miyazaki ramen always comes with takuan. This is a good thing.

When I lived in Tokyo, I never once had takuan served with my ramen. Over there, things like pickled ginger and mustard greens—all those overly assertive types—ran the show. But in Miyazaki, two slices of yellow takuan sit nonchalantly on a small white plate. They aren't the rowdy ones in the soup, nor are they the stars of the noodles. They are just there on the side. Modest. They sit there looking like a taro root, covered in dirt and quietly increasing happiness.

And so, I entered a shop called "Satoimo" (Taro Root).

Even though the name is Taro Root, there is no taro root in the ramen. This is a fact I learned only after going there, and to be honest, when I first heard it, I felt a bit let down.
It's like a melon pan that doesn't contain any melon.
Hmm.
I tilted my head at a 45-degree angle, flared my nostrils, and groaned for a while.
But after reading the origin story posted in the shop, I groaned in understanding. Taro roots are auspicious vegetables where the parent root is connected to the child roots, symbolizing prosperity of descendants and success in life. The shop says they want to be like that kind of taro root. Is it okay for a ramen shop to aspire to be a taro root that much?
It is.

The inside of the shop was spacious. A long counter made of a single board stretched out, and the cushions on the round stools had all sorts of different patterns—flowers, stars, polka dots. The walls were lined with autographs, and the TV was on. It's the atmosphere of a traditional Miyazaki ramen shop. I've probably known this atmosphere since I was a child.

The ramen arrived. It hadn't even been five minutes since I ordered.

The cloudy soup was filled to the very brim of the bowl. It was more of a white mixed with pale amber than a milky white. On top of the thin noodles, bean sprouts stood crisp, chopped green onions were scattered, and two slices of chashu pork nestled modestly. The steam hit my face, and the sweet scent of pork bone reached my nose first.

I picked up my chopsticks.

The soup was hot, and the fat was lighter than I had expected. It wasn't too thick or cloying. It wasn't the type that pushes you around with heavy, intense pork bone flavor; it slid right down my throat. The thin noodles carried the soup well. The crisp texture of the bean sprouts provided a nice rhythm in between. This is the taste of "the ramen" that people in Miyazaki have been eating since they were kids. It doesn't try to be clever. It's comforting. A light sweat broke out on my forehead, and I let out a sigh of satisfaction.

There was garlic soy sauce on the table, so I tried adding a drop. The character of the soup became much more masculine. This is dangerous. You could eat a whole bowl of rice with the remaining soup. You really could. Even though you shouldn't, you could.
I cried.
I cried while laughing.
That's how delicious it is.

And then, when I looked to the side, that takuan was still sitting there.

I popped one slice into my mouth. It crunched. Just as the lingering taste of the pork bone remained in my mouth, the saltiness and texture of the takuan entered, resetting my palate. The next bite felt fresh again. I see, so that's why it was there. The reason it had been sitting there so nonchalantly next to Miyazaki ramen for so long finally hit home. Looking like a modest taro root, this guy was definitely doing its job.

After I finished eating, a little bit of soup remained at the bottom of the bowl.

I decided to worry about my post-meal blood sugar levels after I finished eating. Even in a place as big as Miyazaki, there probably aren't many men who walk through the noren curtain carrying a blood glucose meter at sixty-eight years old. But I've reached an age where this amount is just right. When I was young, I would have ordered a large portion and even asked for rice. Now, one bowl is enough.

Still, it was a good lunch. Hometown ramen comes with hometown takuan. This is a good thing.

I left the shop, thinking deeply that I wish there were a Satoimo Fukuoka branch.


#DeliciousShop