top of page
Search

Ramen: The INSTANT Symbol of Humanistic Economics

The Day It All Began…


2020. The height of the COVID-19 pandemic. My classmates and I were served ‘buttered’ macaroni packed into tiny paper cups during lunchtime. The flavor profile: styrofoam residue, pre-al-dente, and moist…really moist. Another time, we were served “pancakes” for breakfast. They hardened like stale oatmeal raisin cookies, enough to bang it on the table like a drum–still no dent, not even a crumb. Then we resorted to living off of three SunButter and jelly sandwiches a day for the next 79 days. Yes, we needed a change, and we needed it fast.

In these desperate times, what desperate measures could I take to alleviate our growling patience? My taste buds-stomach combo were yearning for the edible, comfortable, and cheap sustenance, no matter how unhealthy they may be. Sodium? That's an element. Carbs? I need those. Calories? What are they? Do they even exist? I simply needed to put some semblance of them in my belly; nothing else mattered. One food came to mind: instant noodles. My first exposure to instant noodles was in the sixth grade. On Tuesday nights, I would have baseball practice with my travel team at my school. At 3 on the dot, I would dash to the Wellcome supermarket across Red Hill Rd in Tai Tam and buy dinner for the night. With unlimited time and choices, I’d spend close to an hour perusing the shelves and aisles for the perfect meal, and the choice was obvious—instant ramen. The Taiwanese brand Man Han Da Can (滿漢大餐). Beef flavor. Assembling the final meal made me feel like a Michelin star chef. Squeeze the meat packet into the bowl. Pour water just below the line for a higher consistency and a richer flavor. Carefully dash some spicy sauce for a slight kick, but not enough to make you sweat while eating. Voila, the perfect dish has been concocted.

Then, a thought. What if I brought this warmth and comfort to my current situation? I got to work. I ordered 30 packs of Nissin Demae Black Garlic Ramen from Amazon. The night they arrived, I prepared a banquet to celebrate the end of the era of empty stomachs and unhappy taste buds. The collective slurping brought gushing lifeblood into our veins. The warmth of renewed hope. But we knew this happiness soup was short-lived. Living lavishly in the dorms was unsustainable. Before long, I was down to my last few packs of ramen. I cannot describe the shock and horror that went through me after I realized my body may be, once again, forced to endure such hardships. SunButter was akin to trauma for my taste buds, naturally making me gag. I needed more ramen, STAT. The next day, 30 more packs of Nissin Demae Black Garlic and 30 additional packs of Nissin Demae Tonkotsu were headed my way. We had one final feast to fatten ourselves for the upcoming hibernation, but now I had to fine-tune the behavioral side of ramen economics. Make sure the supply chain side of things aligns with our expected greediness. Having the banquets less often would keep its aura of rarity and importance and make the overall experience more memorable (sustained happiness). The opposite = disaster capitalism, where the winner takes all. The realization that such a simple food could tie us all together, or split us, got me thinking. How was ramen made in the first place?


A Little History


It was the early 20th century, and an increased influx of Chinese students studying at Japanese universities led to an increase in Chinese restaurants around the college towns, mainly serving Chinese food such as “Rosu noodles, a dish that consisted of noodles, quick-fried shredded meat, bamboo shoots, and scallions.” While the Chinese students loved them, they didn’t quite fit the Japanese palettes. Takeya Shokudo was one of these “student-oriented diners” who encountered this dilemma. The restaurant decided to create a variation of the Rosu noodles, which consisted of a “lighter-tasting broth, with roast pork and scallions as toppings.” Many consider this variation of Chinese noodles as the first “real” ramen. The first iteration of instant noodles came nearly four decades later. In 1958, Momofuku Ando saw long lines for a ramen shop outside a subway station in Osaka. Seeing people line up for unreasonably long times inspired Ando: There should be a way to provide a large quantity of ramen in a timely and convenient manner. He experimented at home and learned how to remove moisture from the noodles by watching his wife make tempura. These were the first packs of instant ramen; using hot water or a microwave, people could cook their own noodles at home in three minutes. However, there was one more step to making instant noodles the most convenient food on the planet. While Ando visited local supermarkets, he observed how the managers would break the block of ramen and cook them in a styrofoam cup with hot water. He quickly realized that including an “eating vessel” and cooking container in one package would make instant ramen exponentially more convenient. In 1971, Cup Noodles were released. Becoming more mainstream and accessible, instant ramen has given many the opportunity to bond and become closer throughout the years. From B2B to B2C to C2C, instant ramen has become a staple everywhere, seeping into the college student’s diet due to its perfect ratio of cheap price and unmatched taste. Minimally practical. This is who I am and what I strive to be generally.


Conclusion


Instant ramen (noodle) is more than just a good memory or a saving grace during the Pandemic. It is a symbol of accessibility and comfort; it brings together people from all socio-economic classes without judgment; you can even choose to elevate it with expensive ingredients. It has the simple power to uplift a group of teenagers together during hard times. No matter where you are, instant ramen will always be there with you, and that’s why it’s such a perfect symbol for the concept called Humanistic Economics. I consider myself a neutral player in the spectrum of free market economics. I am not interested in arguing a left-or-right-or-center wing agenda. What I am interested in is inviting diverse perspectives of the ideal human experience that tells the whole picture of economics…not the other way around. I find it silly how countries determine their worth (rankings) by a narrow scope of metric called the GDP: this doesn’t tell us anything. A ramen dish cannot survive with just one flavor. And each country, unique to its culture and skill sets, could develop its own economic model without comparing to another supposedly bigger, faster, stronger neighbors. Some countries with different economic flavors (interpretations) come to mind. Bhutan (Gross National Happiness). Mongolia (Reverse Gender Gap). Finland (Mixed). Singapore (Tertiary Education Domination). While comparative economics is one key, I’m also advocating for the inclusiveness of untapped markets not yet welcomed in the mainstream conversation of economics. Street art/fashion, experimental music, e-sports: all under the growing space of the gig economy and Web3…the list goes on and on. I guess what I’m saying is, let’s appreciate the Ramen dishes unfolding before our eyes. Because, really, you can’t go wrong with Ramen.


Sources:


 
 
 

Comments


© 2024 by DMan's Portfolio. All rights reserved.

bottom of page