Since I couldn't justify flying all the way to Japan just to drink beer I did the next best thing and went to a Japanese restaurant. The one I chose for this expedition was the Yotteko-Ya Ramen Restaurant in Honolulu, HI. This particular ramen restaurant is located in the same shopping complex as Phuket Thai and the legendary Fook Yuen Seafood Restaurant so Yotteko-Ya was going to have to step up if it didn't want to get overshadowed by such amazingly named competition. Thankfully Yotteko-Ya was more than up to the task.

The sign outside the door proudly proclaimed the the ingredients were "rocketed from Kyoto." Not many restaurants claim to use jet-age technology for its ingredient delivery so I was impressed before I even stepped in. The menu kept up the hyperbolic advertising by claiming that the soup stock was so well made that it would retard the aging process. Who needs something as dangerous as Botox when I can simply eat dinner instead? With a pitch like that I expected to find a wild eyed chef stripped down to a headband and loincloth dishing out meals with ferocious intensity. Instead I was greeted by a rather pleasant waitress. I guess they keep the crazy guy in back so he doesn't frighten the customers.

Although I never did see the person who prepared my meal I do know that they did an amazing job. Whether the dinner gave me the skin and joints of a newborn are unknown -I should have looked in a mirror or done some squats after I dined- but I do know it was the best ramen I've ever had. All the other ramen shops I've been to were serving liquefied scouring pads when compared to the true work of art that Yotteko-Ya dished up. Eating my Combo A set meal gave me a feeling of joy that can only come from a truly magnificent meal.

Since my dinner was nearly an evangelical experience I figured a good beer would help wash it down. While there were some of the usual choices such as the omnipresent Budweiser I decided to go with something that came from the same piece of geography as my jet-powered meal and ordered up a bottle of Kirin Ichiban.

When you drink beer you are not only enjoying some liquid refreshment but you are joining in the communal history of the beer itself. Any beer worth the time makes a claim to having a colorful origin but Kirin's is particularly impressive. The company was founded by William Copeland; a man who traveled from Norway to the United States to Japan and several other points in between as he unsuccessfully tried to found a profitable business. His is a story filled with love and loss with an epic sweep that spans the globe. While never the success he wanted to be in life he is now remembered for the impressive accomplishment of bringing a brewery to Japan. His life story would make an amazing movie, or at least a neat television melodrama. It certainly deserves a bit more than a brief write-up on the Kirin web page. But no matter what happened to him in life he now has the proud legacy of being honored as the Patron Saint of Kirin beer. There are worse ways to be remembered.

But is Kirin worthy of the endorsement of the late Mister Copeland? That's hard to say. First off, I'm not sure I was really drinking a proper bottle of Kirin Ichiban. The bottle I had was brewed in cooperation with Anheiser Busch and came from California. For all I know the recipe could have been lost in translation. [A side note: Yotteko-Ya charged me for an import beer even though the beer was brewed in America. Then again, I guess it was "imported" from the mainland so there was some truth in advertising.] The beer poured out with a thin head that made for speedy drinking instead of having to wait for the contents to breathe a bit. That, or the beer was flat as a pancake. The beer had a nice yellow color to it. One problem with discussing beer is that there are only so many different ways you can describe the color of beer. "Copper" or "flaxen" or "amber" are some of the romantic sounding choices you can use when describing the visual beauty of beer but this glass of Kirin was straight ahead yellow. It was a direct and simple color that I respect the beer for. The taste wasn't anything particularly strong and didn't overwhelm anything I was eating. That's not necessarily a bad thing since having a beer that isn't competing for attention can make for a good match with a meal. That the beer wasn't overwhelming the side bowl of white rice I was snacking on, however, made me think that it may have been a bit too mellow for its own good. There's a fine line between "laid back" and "dead" and Kirin was teetering on the brink.

Although I'm making it sound like Kirin Ichiban was lacking I found it to be the perfect drink at that moment in time. It was cold, wet and helped to wash down a terrific meal. Instead of setting up some sort of idealized setting for my beer drinking experience I was reminded that the best way to drink beer is to simply drink beer. Although I can't put myself in the same setting as the Japanese beer drinkers who choose this beverage I found I could still enjoy a bottle by not over-analyzing it and simply letting it be. My thanks to the faceless wild man of a chef and everyone else who works at Yotteko-Ya, not only did you give me a great meal but you reminded me that sometimes a beer should simply be a beer.

Questions about either the beer or the location of Yotteko-Ya can be sent to gleep9@hotmail.com. Head on back to either the Beer or Main page.