Man, do I love ramen. The good kind, the real kind, the bad kind...well, mostly the bad kind. It is just so tasty. It might be that it is actually tasty (it actually is), or that it reminds me of the special treat that it was in my childhood. It reminds me of afternoons after sports practice, before dinner, where we needed a little snack. It was the first food I learned to prepare on my own by memory, and I took pride in the fact that I memorized exactly how long the noodles needed to cook - no timer needed. I learned the exact time the noodles were done by the way they floated to the top. Too long and they were soggy; too soon and they were crunchy. But I could tell by how they floated and the amount of boiling bubbles if they had reached that magical point.
My mom dubbed them "poison noodles" because she thought they were terrible for us. That's fine, but she did keep on buying them, so my brother and I kept on loving them. In my ravenous adolescent days, I would make two packages for myself at once. My brother and I would alternate who got to use the wooden toaster-tongs as "chopsticks."
My favorite flavor is Shrimp, much to other people's disgust. Hey, I can't help it. That fishy flavor just sings to me.
Ry and I also purchase ramen, and I believe I've even blogged about how we have started to make fancy ramen. Because, let's face it, it's bad for you. But if you fill it with vegetables and a healthy protein (like actual shrimp), I feel better about it. I even made real ramen from a recipe in Bon Appetit, and it was delish. Not the same, but delish.