Hiroshima-Style Tsukemen That Will Put Some Hair on Your Chest

If you’ve read my post (and failed screenplay – thanks a lot M. Night) on the iconic, bustling food-theme park ‘Okonomimura’ in Hiroshima, then you already know just how memorable a time I had in this city. 

From the most flavor-packed and savory oyakodon I’ve ever tasted (in the basement of a shopping mall) to sweet, battered, thick corn dogs at the Hiroshima Carp baseball stadium (the most raucous fans in all of Japanese baseball), to a thick, nutty and mince meat-topped dan dan noodles served while macabrely watching the Titanic, I did not have a single bad meal in my week-plus in the “City of Water.” 

Rounding out this eating and baseball-fueled trip of mine was a popular ramen staple, unique to this resilient and historical city, Hiroshima-style tsukemen – cold boiled noodles topped with shredded cabbage, cucumber, and green onions, served with a dry chili oil (and chili pepper) and vinegar dipping broth, garnished with sesame seeds. This can be one spicy papacito (depending on the level of heat you choose).

In the context of gastronomic adventures in Hiroshima, I have a feeling Hiroshima-style tsukemen is “slept-on,” as it is often shadowed by the iconic mammoth grilled disks of okonomiyaki (there are over 2,000 okonomiyaki shops in Hiroshima alone). After all, up until a few years ago, I had no idea that there was more than one variation of ramen. And now, tsukemen is my favorite meal (Don’t believe me? Check out my post on a salty, pungent, kurobuta pork tsukemen at Shugetsu in Hong Kong). 

Pale Ale Travel Tip: While the ramen joint I went to for Hiroshima-style tsukemen was fantastic, this post is more of an introduction to this unique style of ramen, and can be celebrated at countless shops across the city. However, if you do want a Pale Ale Travel-verified recommendation, I’ve got you covered.

What Exactly is This Devil’s Fire Broth?

• Restaurant Name: つけ麺居酒屋 きむらや
• Address: 5-1 Inarimachi, Minami Ward, Hiroshima, 732-0827, Japan

No, that isn’t liquid magma (pronounced with air quotes in the voice of Dr. Evil). That’s what you’ll be dipping your cold noodles into. But don’t worry, it’s actually not as spicy as it may look (even though it’s redder than the Devil’s…nose). 

So, what exactly is Hiroshima-style tsukemen and why should it be on your radar?

I’m not entirely sure of the origin behind Hiroshima-style tsukemen, however, this popular ramen dish has carved out its own stronghold with emphasis. Its cold boiled noodles (cooled with ice water) are served with textbook elasticity (think about how tense you are after a Wim Hof ice bath), topped with refreshing crunchy cabbage, cucumber, green onions, and char siu (and sometimes eggs), and served with a broth called ‘Tsukedare’.

‘Tsukedare’ is a dry, chili oil and chili pepper-based broth, with vinegar and sesame seeds (I swear I mentioned this above). I was actually caught off guard by how mild it was compared to what I was imagining. Then again, spice is highly customizable at these shops and I played it safe, opting for a milder heat. 

The shoyu-base, typically infused with small fish or seafood, balances out any of the ‘mala’ associated with the dish. This dish isn’t actually made with Sichuan peppercorn (so the term ‘mala’ is 100% being misused by me) but what I am going for is the slight numbing effect on your tongue from the chili oil’s punch.

At this particular tsukemen shop, the noodles were thin, firm, and elastic, generating a pleasant snap all while retaining a distinct identity from its fire-water counterpart. While I typically prefer thicker noodles when eating tsukemen, I think the thinner noodles here are served deliberately. Otherwise, it would err on the side of a Korean-Chinese hybrid jajangmyeon, which can quickly devolve into a homogenous glob of black bean paste. This isn’t me knocking jajangmyeon at all. Jajangmyeon isn’t hand kissed with the mark of the beast (chili oil).

The char siu, also cold, strikes me more as a filler, as it really doesn’t absorb too much of the room-temperature broth. I think it generally needs to be a bit hotter to break down these fibrous chunks of pork and permeate its cracks with chili oil and flavor.

As you can see, even though I declare tsukemen to be my top food, I’m still horrifically abysmal at dipping my noodles in the broth and then transferring it to my mouth. That’s why a key rule I have when I eat tsukemen is to not wear anything I’m not ready to throw out. It gives me flashbacks to my first month living in Beijing where I only had 20 minutes to eat lunch (at an intensive language school). 

By the end of the first week, I had to throw out most pairs of shorts due to the assorted stains which were unwashable. 

Pale Ale Travel Tip: This may be the case across Japan but I noticed in Hiroshima (more than anywhere of the places I visited in Japan) that dan dan noodles were everywhere. Having lived in Taiwan for three-plus years, dan dan noodles are something I need at least once per month. So I was in dan dan mian heaven after stumbling upon this craft beer and dan dan noodle hybrid bar/restaurant – 汁なし担々麺bond.

That’s right. Your eyes don’t deceive you. That’s an ice-cold Sapporo draft beer served in a frosty mug (how all lagers should be served). While maybe it is more prudent to bring my own gallon of milk to combat any spice and lingering mala, I just can’t resist one of Japan’s finest lagers.

Even though this is a post about Hiroshima-style tsukemen, it would feel lacking to not throw in a picture of these delicious, crispy, gyoza with a slight char on the outside. I know this is probably not the reason they were so fantastic but I generally believe because the Hiroshima people know their way around a teppan (grill for okonomiyaki and teppanyaki) so well, that firing up some gyozas is like a Sora speedrunner playing Kingdom Hearts on beginner mode.

Hiroshima-Style Tsukemen Can Play For Me Any Day of the Week

During my three-month stint in Japan, I was endlessly in awe at the sheer number of variations of dishes I thought I knew well. And if you couldn’t tell from this post (or my guide on 21 days of ramen in Osaka), tsukemen and the creativity behind its variations is one of those that made me one very very happy ramen camper (I’m looking at you curry tsukemen).

I can confidently declare that you won’t go hungry in Hiroshima. I’m curious to spend an extended period of time here for my next three-month stint in Japan, as with its resilient history and rapid development it is a city I would bet on (and will bet on) for gastronomic, economic, and social progress.

If you’ve tried Hiroshima-style tsukemen and have any favorite spots you’d recommend in this vibrant city, I’d love to hear from you in the comments. Let me know your favorite spot and the spice level that you went with (I’m sure you’re braver than me). 

Eat well everyone,

Big Body