The most remarkable thing about small Japanese restaurants is the seemingly absurd level of specialization for each ingredient. For example, the newly renovated ramen shop, Tampopo, Dandelion in Japanese. Located in a low-rise industrial prefecture of Japan, the angelic welcoming white trim exterior and interior gives off the immediate vibe that the people who eat here, and the person who cooks here, are ramen purists at heart. And when a highly skilled purist makes your ramen bowl, you'll get something close to poetry. The female master ramen chef is a one-woman band. She runs the front and back of the house with finesse. Her eyes spot you straight from the get-go without judgment. She only sizes you up to see if you're a first-timer, drunk, regular, hungry, need a safe haven, or have been searching for her joint your entire life. She greets every customer with a warm welcome and waits for you to yell out your order. Then, sit at the counter, which can comfortably sit 8, or stand. No matter how many people come and go, she'll remember everyone's order to a T. When she hands you the piping hot broth, noodles, and toppings, slurping has to wait unless you have a calloused mouth like most professional cooks. For those with a bit of patience, there is a moment to truly take in the chef's art: observe, smell, and savor the aroma, study the careful placement of the half-submerged pork, bamboo shoots, nori, and scallions. Once ready to dig in, move and submerge the pork to the side with the tips of your chopsticks, then slurp the springy, chewy, and yellow-looking fresh Chinese-style noodles. And spoon up the Tonkotsu classic pork-based broth with a little more umami than the traditional style. You'll take-in additional flavors of chicken, shiitake, vegetable scraps, and a wee bit of sweetness, probably from Mirin or sake. In every Goldilocks just right slice of pork, hints of dashi burst along with miso. This is because the meat is tenderized with fermented koji salt. What's the most essential item in Tampopo's ramen? Is it the fresh noodle, the rich broth, or the toppings made with the utmost TLC? It doesn't matter. As long as you gulp down every last drop and the chef gives one last look at your empty bowl before she places it in the sink, all parties are happy forever and ever.