Many people visit Osaka for its nightlife, its culture and its food. Often, though, the reason people visit the third most populous city in Japan is not for the sights in the centre but for an attraction in the outskirts of town. An amusement that receives group after group of tourists, both international and domestic. An attraction that brings joy to a child’s eyes and makes a child out of the most adult of adults. A place to run around and be free and experience a sense of wonder and excitement. I, of course, am referring to the Cup Noodles Museum in Ikeda, thirty minutes out of the centre of Osaka.
I entered the museum expecting to be one of only a few who had made the journey. It wasn’t too far from Osaka’s centre but there wasn’t much else in the area. After all, I was only visiting because it was on the way back from a hike I had walked earlier in the day along an abandoned railway line. But when I opened the door to the museum I was paralysed by the large crowd filling a small exhibition space. It seemed I wasn’t the only one interested in the unique history of convenient, rapid-cooking noodle-based technology.
I had a few interests when going in. Firstly, I wanted to understand if the noodles should be referred to as ‘Instant Noodles’ or ‘Two-Minute Noodles.’ After all, these two descriptors, both short when compared to the life of a Galapagos tortoise, are far from equal. At a philosophical level, one adjective refers to a period of time while the other refers not even to time but the very absence of it. How were we to compare these two? Additionally, I wanted to try some of the regional specialties across the Cup Noodle range. As has been said countless times before, cup noodles encapsulate the subtleties of a region’s cuisine and so, by tasting an assortment of noodles side-by-side, I’d be able to fully engage in a deep sociological study of regional taste and nuance. These seemed like very basic desires and so I expected the staff would be prepared with these typical, yawnable requests.
I approached the first display. A hut was constructed to look like the very place where Momofuku Ando invented instant noodles. It was a wooden structure filled with 1950s’ kitchenware and a large pot in the corner with projected vision of frying noodles. It gave the impression of noodles being cooked while avoiding the health and safety hurdles of having splattering oil in a child-friendly museum.
The mythology around the creation of the product was the stuff of legends. It is said that Momofuku Ando perfected the creation of the instant chicken ramen in his hut, on his own. He slowly collected the necessary ingredients and tools, brought them to the shed on the back of his bicycle and iteratively refined a recipe for noodles that only needed to be cooked using hot water. He didn’t have any special tools or fancy ingredients. It’s taught as a lesson whereby if you have a passion and drive, all you need is hard work and determination and you can reach your dreams. It reminded me of the story North Koreans are told about Kim Jong Il inventing the hamburger.
Next was a series of displays showing the production methods of the noodles and how the technology has been continuously innovated over time. I got a timeline of noodles and how the Cup Noodle range has expanded as new tastes and markets were discovered. Truly fascinating stuff. But the big line was at the Noodle Factory.
You could make your own, unique noodle flavour. Despite the long line, I was willing to wait. However, after entering the queue I noticed that everyone coming back from the Noodle Factory had their noodle packet stuck in a big, inflatable plastic bag. The whole schtick was that people got a plain, uncoloured cardboard noodle cup. They then could colour it in with an assortment of coloured pencils and crayons before choosing the flavourings they desired for their unique noodles. Finally, the cup was sealed and placed in a big plastic bag, four times the size of the actual noodle packet, which could then be hung on a wall and displayed to visitors in the home. It was as if the whole place was aimed at children and not solo, twenty-something backpackers.
The whole attraction was built around creating a noodle flavour that you’d never eat. I had come to Disneyland and was being given a picture of Space Mountain, despite never having gone on the ride. I didn’t want a momento, I wanted lunch. To the surprise of those around me, I left the queue. I did a lap of the exhibition. Surely there had to be a place to try some noodles. I couldn’t find any. I pushed through the crowd and walked around again. Still nothing. It was not going to happen. I left the museum having not tried one oodle of noodle. I got lunch at a soba restaurant instead. The food came out fast, much faster than if I had waited in line to get my own package of ‘instant’ noodles.
I later looked it up online and apparently there was a tasting room in the museum but I saw no signs marking this place or any indication of its existence. I posit that this a lie to bring crowds to the museum conspired by the capitalists at Big Noodle.
