Thursday, October 06, 2005
Yap: e-Ramen
By Januar Yap
Meanwhile
From a heavy downpour, a truck driver takes shelter, or okay, barges into a ramen house in a Tokyo outskirt.
Here he finds the diminutive restauranteuse named Tampopo (dandelion in English), awash in dishwashing soap…thus begins the film “Tampopo,” a “noodle-western” flick topped with food, sex, and movies---a film gourmand’s lusty dream, says one review.
“Tampopo,” a story that bursts forth with the plurality of a batchoy mix, goes home to the theme of perfecting a bowl of ramen. I was thinking of this as we cruised through the heavy downpour in the metro.
The mind escapes to this restaurant that serves my favorite garlic-chili ramen, an incendiary serving that sets your spiritual thicket afire. A slight opening of the car window I’m sure will send in the storm’s finger flicking considerable spray into the face. Kind of miraculous for a rain sucker like me, and nothing else inspires noodle ideas than this.
That instant, I knew where I was headed to, and impulsively, in the heavy downpour, I rushed out to an ATM, whereupon a towering figure shimmered amidst the damp haze. Her wet hair formed portentous curls on her shoulders. Only she and I stood amidst the ruthless seduction of rain and ramen, before this hideous-looking money-machine.
She stepped back and threw me a smile. “You go first,” she said. “But you were first,” I said. “I don’t mind,” she replied and shot me again with that bloody smile. So I slid the card into the machine’s mouth. The rain turned even fiercer, some spray rubbed itself into our corner.
As I pushed the first button, an outburst of energy pushed its way up my skullcap. My hair must’ve turned into brittle noodles that very second. I looked at her, the smile was still there. “It’s grounded, right?” she asked.
“No, it’s not. I just forgot my PIN,” I said. Ramen, my fair lady, is electrifying.
(October 6, 2005 issue)
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