I Am NOT Trying To Cook You In This Ramen Noodle Bath
Ever since 2007, when the trend first started, Japan’s hottest spas have been offering ramen noodle baths to the trendiest and wealthiest influencers. People come from all over Japan to pay good money to steep in the flavorful noodles and socialize with their like-minded friends. That, to answer your very rude question, is why I have filled this hot tub with 47 packets of Maruchan and invited you to get in it.
The Benefits Of Boiling In My Soup Pot
Ramen noodle baths have many benefits. Arguably, one of them could be cooking your tender flesh and consuming it with chopsticks and a side of soy sauce, but that is not an officially recognized reason for bathing in ramen noodles, and I’ll thank you not to speculate.
For one thing, they’re relaxing. In a world where we often barely have time to shower in the morning before jetting off to the hustle and bustle, doesn’t sitting in a hot tub full of salty noodles sound like exactly what you need after a long day? It’s like meat-scented aromatherapy. Okay, I’m willing to concede that the water in this hot tub may be a bit too hot to be properly relaxing. I’ll turn it down a little, if you’re going to be so particular about it.
Also, it’s good for your skin. You’ll notice that I’ve filled this tub with dozens of packets of “spicy pork” flavoring, and pork has been shown to boost collagen production. Collagen is that delicious protein that makes your skin plump, smooth, and flavorful. Did I say “flavorful”? I didn’t mean to say “flavorful.” Also, just one packet of that stuff contains enough salt to kill a person with hypertension. Think of it as an exfoliating salt rub. Scrub! An exfoliating, delicious salt scrub!
Are You Sure You’re Not Just Racist?
I just don’t know why you’re being so weird about this. It’s just a hot tub full of boiling water and several packets of soup suspended over a barbecue pit filled with burning coals that I’m keeping stoked at a regular temperature to keep the water boiling for at least three minutes. What’s so weird about that, when you get down to it? I know it might seem strange to bathe in soup, but really, isn’t it just as strange to bathe in sparkly, scented baking soda? It’s a harmless cultural difference, that’s all.
Oh. Ohhhhh. Is that it? Are you racist? You don’t want to bathe in my noodle cauldron because it’s a weird foreign thing? Wow. Seriously, wow. I don’t even know if I want you in my soup pot now. I don’t wanna catch your racism through sharing the same bath water and not ingestion of any kind.
Just Get In.
Okay. Let’s lay it all out on the table. I know all this has led you to believe that I want to eat you. I’m disappointed, but I can’t say I’m surprised. You’ve always been like this. You hate trying new things. I just want what’s best for you, and I really feel that soaking in this relaxing tureen would be beneficial, but I can’t make you. That’s technically true. This is your last chance to get in willingly.
There’s no one behind you. God, you’re so paranoid.