I just got back from Japan a month ago and my brain is still stuck somewhere between Tokyo side streets, steam-filled ramen shops and the collective national superpower of being effortlessly polite. I wanted to share that whole vibe with my friends today and invited them over for ramen… but in true Final Destination fashion, I got hit with a fever last night and had to cancel.

After spending over 100€ on groceries like a responsible adult who definitely does not waste money on food that expires in two days (spoiler: the meat expired today), I woke up, looked at the ingredients, said “screw it”, and decided to cook it anyway. At least for my girlfriend and me. Maybe it would heal my 39.5°C fever trauma.

Step one: broth. I threw chicken and wings into the pot like someone who has watched way too many Japanese YouTube chefs. I even wanted to add chicken feet but apparently Austria doesn’t believe in selling them to civilians.

Dashi was easy. Tare was already waiting for me like a loyal pet I made seven days ago, just soy sauce and mirin doing their thing. Then came the tragedy. I opened the meat package, sniffed once and even with a clogged nose it smelled like a biohazard. At that point I had to make a choice: keep going and risk diarrhea on top of the fever… or live to cook another day. I threw the meat away like a sane man and moved on. So yeah, no chashu today.

Everything else went surprisingly smooth. Ginger, garlic, scallions, onion, aroma oil. Six-hour soy sauce eggs that turned out way too intense. Even my body decided to crash for a bit, giving me a lovely migraine. Could’ve been caffeine withdrawal. Could’ve been the flu. Could’ve been the ramen gods punishing me. No clue.

I made myself a matcha from my Japan stash, meditated like a wannabe monk and went back to the pot. After eight hours the broth got its final touch with ginger, napa cabbage and garlic. Not gonna lie: for my first real ramen (not the baby 1–2h versions I did before), it came out pretty damn good. Obviously nowhere near the bowls I had in Japan, but still… recognizable as ramen.

The egg was too strong. The tare slapped way harder than expected. The dashi fought bravely with its umami. I even added lemon zest which was funny, but probably illegal in a traditional shoyu.

Now here’s my question for the pros: how do I balance tare, dashi and broth better? My tare ratio was 50 ml mirin, 500 ml soy sauce, plus 20 ml fish sauce. I’m starting to think the fish sauce was the culprit and basically roundhouse-kicked the whole flavor profile.

Any feedback is welcome. Roast me. Fix me. Teach me the way of proper shoyu. I’ll post Round 2 when I cook this for my friends. Hopefully without fever, expired meat or accidental lemon zest war crimes.