The broth is made by taking the liquid the chashu was simmered in and cutting it with hot water. That is the whole method. No stock is drawn from bones, no aromatics are simmered for hours. What results is very dark and saltier than it looks, and it tastes overwhelmingly of pork and soy sauce because that is all that is in it.

The noodles are dried rather than fresh, cooked to order in a small separate pot. The original shop uses a charcoal brazier for this, on the grounds that the heat can be adjusted more finely by eye. It is an odd amount of care applied to a step most kitchens automate.

On top: a large piece of chashu, menma, a sheet of nori, and raw onion chopped fine. The onion is called yakumi, the seasoning, and its sharpness cuts through everything else. Without it the bowl would be relentless.

It comes from Takeoka, a fishing settlement in Futtsu, from a shop that has been at it for more than seventy years. Skipping the stock looks like a shortcut, and in one sense it is. It is also a decision to take the single most concentrated liquid in the kitchen and dilute that, rather than building flavor up from nothing, which is a different thing from cutting a corner.