If you were to compare the number of times my wife asks me to make ramen versus the number of times I actually do it you would end up with a ratio of something like 60:1. That's because when she is requesting ramen, she doesn’t mean a meal prepared by spilling some hot water over the contents of a plastic pouch. What she’s after is a different experience entirely. One that is definitely on the more ambitious end of home soup making, but is definitely attainable for the determined home cook.
Ramen is an interesting dish because I feel like, at least in the U.S., it has something of a split reputation. On the one hand, it has been the quick, no-cooking-required meal of choice for (probably) hundreds of millions of people. In some circles, ramen is shorthand for a fast, easily prepared meal.
On the other hand though, there are ramen specific restaurants that tout the extreme length of their broth making process. Probably you’ve seen signs like “broth simmered 8,736 hours. Ramen available on March 15th each year” or the like on the front door of many a ramen-ya be it in the U.S. or abroad. Ramen seems to be one of the only dishes that lives on both extreme ends of the preparation spectrum. For this reason I think a lot of folks miss out on one or the other end of the spectrum. One of these is pretty easy to remedy. I can just say “Oh wow, you’ve never had instant ramen? Its really better than you might think. Put some fresh scallions on top and maybe add some roast pork and you’ll have a legitimately tasty meal.” But it isn’t so easy to sell someone on “Oh you haven’t had proper Tonkotsu ramen before and your town doesn’t have a very good ramen shop where you can just go get it whenever you like? You should definitely take the many hours of active time it takes to make a two-day broth, and then also tare, roast pork, and garnishes and many other little bits you have to worry about to make yourself a restaurant quality bowl of ramen at home.”
While it's true that a really good ramen broth is an undertaking, it doesn’t have to be as involved and all-consuming as it may sound when people describe making it. For me, that was the main thing that kept me from attempting ramen for a long time; what I assumed it would be like. Once I had actually done it, however, it was revealed to be a relatively straightforward, if rather lengthy, process.
One thing to get out of the way early on as well is this: ramen is about the broth not the noodles. The noodles are specific, its true, and if the noodles aren’t at least reasonably good you probably aren’t having a great ramen experience. However, the real heart and soul of a bowl of ramen is not the noodles, it's the broth. For example, I would have no problem recommending you use store-bought ramen noodles for your home ramen. In fact, I strongly encourage you to do just that. There are lots of decent options for fresh, tasty store-bought noodles. Even if the dried noodles from a pack of instant ramen are your only option, those will still be pretty good. The same could not, however, be said of the broth. I have yet to find a store-bought ramen broth, or broth of any kind to be frank, that even remotely fills the niche that a homemade broth fills. Even on places that offer “house-made” ramen-specific broth (a rarity) I would cast a skeptical eye, unless that place was a ramen shop. Not only that but for reasons of processing technique and ingredient sourcing it's a lot more likely the store-bought noodles will be better than anything you make at home than it is a store-bought broth could compare to one made from scratch.
When I think of Tonkotsu ramen broth the main attribute I’m looking to achieve is that unctuous, almost creamy appearance and texture. A lot of people think this is achieved through adding a lot of fat to the broth, and while there is definitely some pork fat in any decent bowl of Tonkotsu, the main reason behind the soups lip smacking texture is gelatin. Let's take a look at the process for making the broth to see how we can harvest the maximum possible amount of gelatin for our broth.
Start with your water at a rolling boil. I’m using enough water here to cover the bones and meat I’ve got (maybe about 8 quarts water to 10 or so pounds of bones). I’m using mostly pork shank here with a big hunk of belly, but really any bones will work as long as there is also some meat involved. Skin is great too, just don’t use entirely skin because that can leave an overly porky aroma.
Blanch the bones until they start to release some protein (the gray bits floating at the top), about 10 minutes. Skim off the bits, then remove the bones from the water, set them aside, and also pour the blanching water (which you could also think of as pork stock) into a container to be used later.
Refill your broth pot with fresh water and add some flavorings.
I’m using kombu, dried shiitakes, onions, scallions, and katsuobushi.
Then return the blanched bones to the pot.
And return to a boil.
Here is where we really learn the secret of how to get the creamy appearance and texture I associate with a really satisfying bowl of Tonkotsu ramen: boil it. Not just like a lazy low-and-slow gentle bubbling, but a full-on rolling boil. This is what had initially thrown me off, because a hard boil like this goes against many tenets of good stock making that get drilled into beginner cooks. We’re always taught to cook our stock very very gently to avoid cloudiness. But here we want just the opposite; as cloudy a broth as we can get.
This extended boiling also does a much better job of extracting gelatin from the bones resulting in an exceedingly rich broth with a luxurious silky mouthfeel.
A full rolling boil
Anytime the water level falls below the surface of the bones, top up the pot with the reserved blanching water.
Continue to boil in this fashion until the blanching water is all re-incorporated and the broth has a creamy appearance (4-6 hours), then remove all the bones and onions and whatnot.
Pass the broth through a fine strainer and you're all set. Cook yourself some noodles, make some tare, and you’ll be able to mix yourself up some deeply satisfying bowls of ramen like the one at the top of the post.
So now you can see, that, though its not exactly an everyday, commuter-friendly meal, making your own ramen broth can be done, and is very rewarding when its done well. Hopefully this is the beginning of a beautiful journey of hearty home-made soups of all kinds to warm you through these winter months. But if not, maybe this post got you thinking about delectable Japanese delicacies, but you just aren’t in the mood for any foods that are overly warm or wet. Why not check out our upcoming Sushi Workshop class?
