Intimate Strangers
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The 45-minute wait outside a new East Village ramen shack, Setagaya, demonstrates to any doubters that Japanese noodles are newly trendy in the city. Hipped to the idea, perhaps, by ever-crowded Momofuku nearby, customers at Setagaya line up at the unprepossessing glass storefront which houses a few tables, a flat-screen TV tantalizing the hungry queue with noodle-related programming and the focal noodle counter.
The minimal menu offers a choice of two kinds of broth, two bowl sizes, and two configurations: noodles in broth, or noodles next to broth. A ramen shop’s sine qua non is its individual broth recipes, which involve hours of simmering with any number of ingredients to produce a complex, balanced stock. Setagaya’s signature soup is shio, whose primary flavoring is sea salt. To quote the menu, it also includes “pork bone, chicken and chicken bone,” two kinds of seaweed, dried anchovy, scallop, and mushroom, garlic, ginger, cabbage, and red pepper, all apparently “prepared separately and then combined.” The resulting broth is a cloudy tan, with mild but complex flavor that reveals different facets of itself in subsequent mouthfuls. In the simplest case ($9.50), it comes in a bowl crammed with thin, chewy noodles and accessorized with slices of fatty grilled pork and sheets of fishy, toasted seaweed. The alternative is tsuke-men, or dipping noodles. This dish entails a large ($9.50) or very large ($11) bowl of warm, nicely discrete noodles, wider than the others, accompanied by a deep well of vigorous, salty broth that’s too strong to spoon up directly but ideal for dipping clumps of noodles.
Non-noodle options are minimal. A plate of good, sour Japanese pickles, or an order of edamame costs $2. Those who find the meal too heavy can balance it with a small salad of crisp bamboo shoots ($1.50), an excellent, mild refresher; while a plate of grilled pork ($5), the same kind found in the soup, or a halved, medium-cooked egg ($1) adds heartiness if that’s what’s desired. The best of the side options is the oyako-don ($3.50), a bowl of rice topped lavishly with hot, minced chicken that’s deeply flavored with soy and finished with a raw egg yolk.
Discreetly hidden behind Setagaya is a significantly larger back room, which at first looks like a secret lounge but turns out to be a complementary and entirely separate restaurant, with its own proprietorship. Oriental Spoon is an attractive, airy spot with ropework art on the walls, dark polished wood, and an enclosed garden area. One side of the menu lists Malaysian tapas, and the other, a variety of creative sushi. Ironically, almost nothing here is eaten with a spoon. The contrast between the milling ramen crowds out front and the emptiness of Oriental Spoon is poignant: Asian tapas are trendy, but not as trendy as noodles.
Oriental Spoon serves excellent chicken wings ($5), which chef Sinkong Wong wraps in aromatic screwpine leaves before deep-frying. The result is crisp-skinned chicken (except where the leaves protect the skin from the fryer) with deep flavor, with a sweet chili dipping sauce for balance. Meats on skewers are a specialty: strips of chicken dyed greenish with Thai basil curry; chewy, savory beef ribs; fatty, spice-glazed pork, and assortments of seafood — $9 buys a selection of three. “Samui prawns” ($13) are big, juicy specimens that have their shells on and a drizzle of spicy, chunky sauce. Underneath the prawns are refreshingly contrasting sheaves of dark lettuce and crisp, exotic-tasting curry leaves. The restaurant’s small but satisfying version of beef rendang ($14), a Malaysian classic, is superb, with chunks of beef braised in spiced coconut milk until they’re tender and richly infused with the flavor of ginger, turmeric, and chili.
Treats on the raw fish side of the menu are overseen by a different chef, Joon Kim, and include modern standards like rolls of soft-shell crab and tempura shrimp, as well as a number of more unusual creations. A sampler of four starters costs $20.
The best of these starters, which can also be purchased individually, are strips of red, raw tuna. The tuna is draped half-in and half-out of a thin vinegar-wasabi sauce ($8), which slightly cooks them, giving a contrast in texture and flavor. There’s textural interest, too, in white tuna slices that are semi-frozen ($9), cold, firm, and bland, served with nori to wrap them in. A “cannon ball” of chopped fatty tuna, lightly spiced, can be ordered on its own or paired with excellent strips of yellowtail ($9).
Oriental Spoon offers a modest list of wines, sakes, and sake-based cocktails, a step above Setagaya, which serves just a few bottled beers. Each restaurant is satisfying in its own way, although each is limited in scope. I left both places craving a vegetable.
Ramen Setagaya (141 First Ave., between St. Marks Place and 9th Street, 212-529-2740).
Oriental Spoon (212-529-2746).