There’s a painful lack of good ethnic food down in the Financial District, where I work a couple days a week. This morning, I got hit hard by a ramen craving, and was getting so desperate that any kind of Asian soup — pho, tom yum, udon, ANYTHING — would’ve done the trick.
With a little yelp surfing, I discovered this random deli and convenience store about a block from my office, owned and operated by a Korean family. Beyond the standard candy bars, chips, cigarettes and soda, they offer Korean food during the lunch hour. Odd combination of wares, but CHA-CHING!
Today they had ramen listed up on the daily menu, served Korean style: laced with spicy red chilli paste, eggs, carrots, mushrooms and green onion.
I’m pretty sure the base of the soup might’ve come from a package, but hot damn if it didn’t hit the spot. And I ordered two sides of kimchi to wash it all down with. My sinuses are now clearer than they’ve been in months, and I’m aching for some dduk gook or japchae and heapings of banchan.
Huh…maybe I’m Korean after all.