When I walked into this place I suspected it was run by Koreans. How did I guess? They served dogs. I don't mean that the flesh of canine is declared an option on the menu, but that they served Koreans, and owner, those surreptitious eyes, the stink of deceit that crowns his air of pretense, that's what I mean.
The noodles were stringy, the broth blooming with oil vessels and the char-siu portions niggardly (I can say that word only because I'm black and East Coast educated).
I would recommend Fukumimi for the woody ambience and specials, or I could recommend Misoya-Tomi for their customer loyalty program, but this place is a crowded dump with teak wood benches that need a massage of Old English and customers that haven't evolved away from being too familiar and conspecific with the species of c. lupus.
Anyways. Come if you like lines and mediocre ramen.