Ramen God

By Caleb Gillen
At first, the Ramen God was an ironic title, a sarcastic name to call an Asian kid
whose name no one seemed to know. The Ramen God was a type of unique that was
maligned in the high school environment: he sat alone, he rarely spoke and no one
can remember seeing him before he began standing out.
Nobody can remember the exact day that it began, but at some point The Ramen
God began his daily ceremony. Every lunch period, the Ramen God would bring
three tall thermoses, a pair of black chopsticks, a brick of generic supermarket
ramen, and a large clay bowl.
Eating ramen alone at a table wasnt what made the Ramen God an outcast: plenty of
other students ate the same kind of cheap brick-style ramen that the Ramen God ate.
No, the Ramen God became infamous because every day, he would turn the cheap
ramen brick into a delicious-looking, gorgeous meal. The methods in which the
Ramen God made his food changed every day, but it always looked and smelled
fantastic.
In retrospect, why the rest of the high school disliked the Ramen God is ridiculous.
They accused the Ramen God of being snobby and elitist because he didnt sit with
anyone and no one sat with him, as if anyone had tried and he had shot them down.
They accused him of being an ass because of how seriously he took his own lunch
and how much work he put into cooking his meal. They accused him of a lot of
things, but really, what they didnt like was that he stood out, was that he was
different and that kind of attitude eventually brushed off on me.
I hated the Ramen God, but at first, I didnt know why. It was the crowd mentality
that pushed me to dislike Ramen God, but I couldnt even recognize that at that
point. I had a place in the high school food chain: I didnt stick out, and I was
rewarded for it. I had my friends, I had regular articles in the school newspaper, and
I had my grades. It was the point where I got a little too gung-ho that my place in the
high school social structure fell apart.
I cant remember whose idea it was to write an article about the Ramen God, but it
was someones. I think that they had a smear piece in mind, but either way, I ended
up assigned to it and I wasnt the type of person who wrote pieces. I disliked people
from afar, but I acted nice to everyone. Back then, I wasnt the type of person to step
on toes, but either way, I was going to write an article about the Ramen God, and an
interview would be the quickest way to take care of it, although it was simply a
formality. I was planning on writing that smear piece, as I was convinced that the
Ramen God was as much of a jerk as everyone made him out to be.
The next lunch period, I didnt sit at my regular table. I moved over, tape recorder in
hand, to sit with the Ramen God, and as soon as I sat across from him, all eyes were
on me and yet the Ramen God simply went on with his work. I waited a few
moments for him to say something, but I soon realized that Id have to make the first
move, conversation-wise.
Hey, I said. Im with the School Newspaper, I was asked to interview you for an
article were running.
The Ramen God didnt stop working on his meal, combining broth, meat and
vegetables with his brick of ramen, stirring them all together in a large bowl.
Why would you interview me for an article? asked the Ramen God in a quiet voice.
Well, youve kind of got a reputation for making Ramen every day, right? You must
know about this.
A little, he said. But I didnt think it was that big of a deal.
I was stunned. The Ramen God seriously had no clue about his reputation? That was
news to me.
Well, ask your questions, then, he said as he began to eat the dish he had prepared.
Well, why ramen every day? Is there a reason?
I like ramen, he said, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world.
Why do you like ramen, specifically?
I dunno, theres just something about it that I like. Its got everything: broth,
noodles, meat and you can change it enough that no two bowls of ramen are the
same. Thats all.
All right. Then, why do you sit alone?
Im a transfer student, dont have a lot of friends from around here. It doesnt seem
like youre all a very welcoming bunch, either.
His words certainly stung. How had anyone missed the fact that we had a new
addition to the student body?
Where did you transfer from?
A few states away, from Maine.
Okay. What do you think about your nickname Ramen God?
The Ramen God slurped his noodles, looking up to meet my gaze before he
answered the question.
I hadnt heard it before now I guess its pretty cool, but I wish I was known for a
little more than what I eat for lunch.
Well, why do you seem to put so much work into making your lunch?
The Ramen God stopped, gathering his thoughts before answering my question.
Ramen, by itself, is actually pretty bad. Ramen isnt meant to be tasty; its meant to
be cheap. Theres certainly higher grade or tastier versions of instant ramen, but
those are too easy. I put a lot of work into making my food because I like the idea
that I can turn bad, cheap ramen into something that tastes good, something thats
delicious. I aim to turn trash into gold.
I smiled at his answer, as I stopped the tape recorder. All this time, people had
talked behind this kids back, but all this time, he was just another teenager, like us. I
immediately felt stupid for disliking the Ramen God: I didnt even know him. Maybe
if people actually talked to him, theyd feel the same.
All right, last question. Whats your real name?
The Ramen God looked up again, this time raising an eyebrow.
Its Jim.
All right, Jim. Thank you for your time.

The following week, my article on the Ramen God was published in the school
newspaper. The articles title was The Ramen God Demystified, and it wasnt the
smear article I had planned. It was the simple, bare bones interview I had done with
Jim.
I sat at Jims table every day after lunch, and over time, more people joined us. The
Ramen God was no longer this mysterious entity whose name no one knew. The
Ramen God was Jim, and he was just another guy who was passionate about ramen.