“Cashmoneyramen, that’s my hashtag!” a woman exclaimed the other night in Long Island City. Half an hour had passed since she and her companion had high-fived upon sitting down at Mu Ramen, the brick-and-mortar incarnation of Josh and Heidy Smookler’s lauded pop-up, and now they were scraping their bowls. If Mu exemplifies the argument, put forth by David Chang on the Web site of his food quarterly, Lucky Peach, that innovation in American ramen-making has plateaued (“Ramen is dead”), none of the people at the restaurant’s Tetris-shaped communal table seemed to care. Nor did those waiting for their seats, who were perched like the audience at a runway show along the perimeter of the mood-lit room, and staring as intently. Everyone had heard the buzz that this ramen might be the city’s best.

Mu’s ramen is above average, to be sure. But at this strange cultural moment in which Jewish-Japanese food is verging on passé (see: Shalom Japan, Ivan Ramen, Dassara), the namesake Mu—featuring a marbled slab of tender pink brisket and matchsticks of crunchy half-sour pickle—feels old hat, if well executed. The combination of twenty-four-hour pork-bone broth and butterlike pats of pork-jowl chashu in the Tonkotsu 2.0 is almost laughably rich, as are the tebasaki “gyoza,” an Instagram-ready appetizer of deep-fried boneless chicken wings oozing a thyme-flecked foie-gras stuffing that tastes oddly of Thanksgiving. A sweet, fluffy spin on the traditionally savory Japanese pancake known as okonomiyaki, drizzled in foie-gras-maple syrup and layered with smoked trout and tobiko, is a model of restraint by comparison.

Meanwhile, in Manhattan, a newcomer called Ramen Lab eschews ramped-up trends in favor of classics, honed to perfection. You stand at a counter, Tokyo-train-station style, in this narrow storefront, where conversation is precluded by exhalations of transcendent satisfaction. The two custom varieties of fresh, springy noodles come from the Sun Noodle factory, whose corporate chef, Jack Nakamura, runs the kitchen. The thinner version is for a bright, clean shoyu broth, glistening with rendered chicken fat and topped with chashu, chopped greens, and a sheet of nori—a combination so good that it’s hard to think, while eating it, about anything other than when you’ll get to do so again. The thicker noodle belongs to the XO Miso, whose designation as vegetarian might scare off carnivores. Their loss: although pork can easily be added, it’s entirely unnecessary, given the umami complexity of the creamy miso-and-oolong-tea broth, garnished with a nutty pile of barley and black rice, left over from making soy sauce. If ramen is dead, Ramen Lab must be Heaven. ♦

Mu Ramen is open Mondays through Saturdays for dinner. Ramen $15-$18. Ramen Lab is open Tuesdays through Saturdays for dinner. Ramen $13-$14.

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