It was October 10 when I got the first email. October 11 when I got the second. There had been a sighting in San Miguel de Allende. On the top floor of Mercado Sano. And then a second sighting. And there I was in San Sebastian, Spain. It would be almost three weeks before I’d be back in Mexico. Ah well, it would still be there when I got there.

Or so I thought. Ah sure, the graphics were still there. A couple of mysterious Japanese characters. The name Kenko. Even some chopsticks and a bonzai plant still on the counter. But the ramen man had gone. Disappeared into thin air. No, that air was probably thick with the smell of simmering pork bones.

Ramen. Along with pho and dim sum. The three wishes I’d want granted if Barbara Eden ever moved to San Miguel (and yes, Barbara, I’m OK with you calling me Master). One of the three restaurant meals I miss most when I’m in Mexico.

Chef Julian Garcia told me he’d actually seen the ramen man. Manny Flores, the guy who makes the tasty tortillas at Tuna Maria, just steps away from where the ramen man was supposed to be, told me he was there the day before. And Laura Buccheri, who runs La Cucina di Afrodita, that directly faces the ramen spot, confirmed he actually existed.

So I came back to Mercado Sano the next day. And two days after that. And three days after that. But still no ramen man. Still no ramen restaurant in San Miguel.

First, though, I better make sure you know what ramen is.

Ramen’s popularity in North America began about 20 years ago with cello packages of instant ramen that, at about a buck a pack, quickly rivalled mac and cheese as the favorite fast dinner in college dorms.

The instant ramen noodle was, in fact, voted as the greatest Japanese export of the 20th century in a national poll, placing it ahead of the Honda Civic and the Sony Walkman.

Then, about seven years ago, real ramen arrived from Japan. To the best of my memory, in 2009, in Toronto, Don Day’s first home, there was exactly one ramen restaurant. Now, according to Trip Advisor, there are 176. If you use population as the guideline, there should therefore be approximately 10 ramen restaurants in San Miguel de Allende, Don Day’s second home. But, alas, in spite of those sightings at Mercado Sano, there isn’t even one.

So what to do. Well about five years ago in Toronto, I helped introduce Don Day’s Wife to ramen. And before too long, when we’d finish our morning workout and I’d ask her the inevitable question about that day’s reward. Dim sum, pho, or ramen for lunch? It seemed there was an echo. For the answer always seemed the same.

“Ramen, let’s do ramen. Yes, definitely ramen.”

And before too long, Don Day’s Wife was learning the different names for different types of ramen. Netsu, Orochong, Nagasaki, Shōyu and Tonkotsu (though, like me, she always ordered the same one). And not long after that, she was saying things like, “I wish all men could be ramen”. And a little while after that, when we’d be back in San Miguel, she’d be missing ramen as desperately as I was.

So what was a man to do. In my case, nothing. I was helpless. Except, of course, for my well-practiced begging skills.

And what was a woman to do. In Don Day Wife’s case, to stop me begging. Last year in San Miguel, she started to make ramen. Then she made more ramen. Then she started to feed ramen to guests. Then she made improved ramen. Then she made perfected ramen. And she served it to more guests. And I didn’t really need a ramen restaurant to go out to any more. All I had to do was go and find her very good pork bones. But what about the rest of San Miguel?

I thought that’s just not fair. So, until I find that mysterious ramen guy from Mercado Sano (and I am still looking), I am handing over the Underwood to Don Day’s Wife to ask her to share with you how she makes her ramen.

Don Day’s Wife’s Ramen. Serves 8 (because you wouldn’t want to go to all this trouble for any less people).

Stage 1

1 kilo of pork bones – usually available from your local butcher. Have him cut them up so that more marrow is exposed.
250 grams of bacon cut into approximately 1 inch squares
1/2 kilo of pork shoulder
12 cups of water
1 large onion quartered
1 large carrot chopped
5 cloves of garlic
5 bay leaves
1 tbsp. sea salt, or more to taste
5 whole peppercorns

Roast the pork bones in a 200C oven for 30 minutes. Turn and continue to roast for another 15 minutes.
Put the roasted bones into a large stock pot, scraping any roasted bits into the pan. Add all the other ingredients, and simmer for 3-4 hours.

Stage 2

Remove the pork shoulder and refrigerate.
Continue to simmer the stock for 3-4 more hours. Stock should be nicely browned and flavorful.

Strain the stock into a clean pot, pressing down on the ingredients to get all the flavours.
Refrigerate stock overnight.

Stage 3

Remove stock from refrigerator and remove all congealed fat by scraping it off the top.
Heat the stock, and add the following:

2 tbsp. Hon Dashi (bonito) available at Luna de Queso
2 tbsp. fresh Miso Paste (also available at Luna de Queso)

Taste stock, and adjust strength by adding more water if too reduced. You should have approximately two litres of stock.

Stage 4

Boil 4 semi-hard cooked eggs (8-9 minutes in boiling water at San Miguel altitude)
Saute 250 grams of oyster or cremini mushrooms
Seed and chop 2 jalapeno peppers
Chop 1 cup of green onions
Chop 1/2 cup cilantro
Chop 2 cups of napa cabbage (optional)
Slice pork shoulder into 1 cm. slices. Cover and heat in microwave or oven until warm.

Reheat stock to very hot.

Bring 2 quarts of water to a boil. Add 1 tbsp. salt. Add appropriate quantity of Asian wheat noodles (available at Bonanza) – the bird’s nest noodles work well – approximately one nest per person plus a little extra. Cook for approximately 3 minutes.

Drain noodles.

Stage 5 – Assembly

Put noodles in bottom of each bowl. Add 2 cups of stock. Garnish with pork, mushroom, 1/2 of boiled egg, jalapeno, green onion, cabbage and cilantro. Have hot sauce (Siracha) available for those who enjoy a little more heat.

Any leftover stock can be frozen for another day.