Like almost everyone I know, I love ramen and eat it often. I find it even more irresistible when the weather is rainy and chilly. Then, just try to keep me away from a big bowl of noodles and throat-soothing, savory broth. I dare you. I fell in love with ramen in earnest while living in the East Village in New York City. As luck would have it, the wonderful, postage-stamp sized ramen spot Minca was just a few blocks away. People came from all over to wait outside, no matter the weather, for a chance to sidle up to their bar overlooking the tiny open kitchen or to squeeze into a table and hunch over a bowl of rich, slurpy, nuclear-hot heaven.