One mind-boggling feature of Japan's media is its sheer, singleminded dedication to and passionate obsession with food. This especially applies to the genre known as menrui (noodles). From somen and soba to Vietnamese pho and supa (spaghetti), the Japanese have always had an inordinate love for nagai mono (long stuff), not least because it connotes longevity and prosperity. Long live the long stuff.

Of these, ramen is in a league of its own. Engage any Japanese over 10 and under 90 on this particular topic, then stand back and see what happens. Their pupils will dilate imperceptibly, their lips will moisten and part, and each cheek will flush rosily as they open their hearts to share their ramen secrets. Not all Japanese are o-cha (green tea) drinkers, much less versed in chado (The Way of Tea), but ramen -- now here is a true Japanese ritual and preoccupation that transcends age and location. Make no mistake, people are very, very serious about it.

In the one camp are the ramen-ya (ramen shop chefs, and we're talking top-notch here) who at this point in time have reached a status on a par with, say, girl group Morning Musume. In other words, theirs is celebrityhood tinged with familiarity. They walk down the street and people will direct the obligatory ganbatte kudasai (work hard, we're rooting for you!) at their retreating figures. In this way, a famous ramen-ya can wield the kind of influence high-powered bureaucrats only dream about.