Yesterday I dropped off a friend down in Culver City around lunchtime, so I took advantage of the opportunity to scope out a ramen joint down on the west side. The ramen was delicious! I’d actually been hoping for a noodle shop where I might get some good soba, but I wasn’t seeing anything. Not long after enjoying this fabulous bowl of soup (I liked it better than the stuff I usually get in Reseda, on account of the kimchi), I called Yuka to see what she was up to, and she told me her friend L, who used to live in West LA, happened to be in town visiting her. I asked if she knew anything about a soba joint, to which she responded, “hmm…good question; I don’t really know. You’d probably be better off making soba at home.”
So today, after picking up my books for this semester’s classes (which start Tuesday), I stopped by the Asian market that I frequently pass but have never gotten around to visiting. I found the soba, and eventually the right dipping sauce, and today I made myself some soba for lunch. Delicious.
Anyway, at some point in all of this – probably when I was sitting in the crowded ramen shop, where no table sat open for more than a minute or two before more customers filed in to have some soup – I decided that I’d love to run a noodle shop someday, like when I’m retired. I guess I’ll just have to add it to the list of shops and stores I’ve dreamed of running for a living: used book store, coffee shop, pizza joint. Maybe I’ll just buy a strip mall when I’m rich and famous and do a little of everything?