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The aforementioned huddle in Little Tokyo is what's often seen outside of Daikokuya. It was admittedly our first bowl of ramen upon arrival in LA, and the sweat-browed cooks behind the bar had us at first slurp. It's just the one ramen available at Daikokuya, wherein cauldrons of pork bones boil "all through the night" to brew a broth all too perfect for LA's ramen addicts. Blogger Go Ramen calls the soup "to die for," but to nitpick, we do agree with Go Ramen that the noodles are not "very spectacular." Despite the soup's extraordinary flavor, we can't help but leave behind a glob of noodles at the bottom of our bowl.
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Two months into my ramen journey and I finally get a chance to try Daikokuya. I constantly hear nothing but great reviews about this place, so today I decided to finally witness it for myself.
I seem to be cursed when it comes to Daikokuya. The first time I tried to go, the owner was on vacation, and they were closed. I ended up at Kouraku across the street. Then as I typed up this review and was *almost* finished, my browser decided to crash. So let me try this again…
Once upon a time, a budding freelance journalist covered Daikokuya for a Japanese community newspaper. The resulting article, entitled “Black Pork and Blind Love,” naively extolled the gyoza (“the best in town!”), and the nascent ramen shop’s use of Berkshire pork chashu.
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