Our first stop in Japan was Fukuoka, a pleasant city that felt very bright and clean in the early-spring warmth. Fukuoka may sound more familiar to some if I mention that what is today Fukuoka was once two cities: Fukuoka and Hakata. It was an appropriate place for us to begin our tastings of Japanese food, as the fame of hakata ramen has spread even to the US.

We ate at two ramen headliners, starting with Ippudo Ramen, a longtime Fukuoka chain that recently opened a branch in New York. While I haven't eaten at the NYC branch yet, I am now extra-curious to try it, because this ramen was easily the best I've ever had, with an incredible intense pork flavor and barely al dente noodles. Yet the next day we indulged in a second ramen feast that easily matched the first, at Ichiran Ramen. While Ippudo has a regular menu, at Ichiran you first buy your soup ticket from a vending machine outside, and then fill out a form indicating your preferences, starting with the strenth of the broth and the tenderness of the noodles, and going right down to the amount of garlic and green onion. You eat your ramen in a tiny cubicle at the bar, each of which is outfitted with a water tap, a button to call the waiter, and a little curtain out from under which your order emerges.

Less famous but equally delicious was the motsunabe, or beef intestine stew, that we sampled at a restaurant near our hostel. The little tubular sections of intestine were tender and fatty on the inside, and chewy and flavorful without, a little like extremely tasty rubber bands. Cooked at the table in hotpot style, the motsu and mixed vegetables gave the light broth a glistening beefy goodness, and for the second time that day we polished the bottoms of our bowls. Greg declaired it a "happy broth day to us," and we walked back to our hostel in a warm-bellied haze.

We also took a side trip to Dazaifu, a small city outside of Fukuoka that is home to several lovely shrines and a nice museum. Greg and I perhaps enjoyed it most for the pleasant everyday atmosphere between the train station and the sightseeing quarter. We walked through quiet residential neighborhoods and small commercial districts, crossing the paths with teenagers in their kendo gear and afternoon dog walkers, and down alleys lined with little market stalls and impromptu craft galleries and thrift stores.

The specialty food of Dazaifu, umegae mochi, is inescapable, with the blocks leading up to the shrine boasting probably a dozen little windows feeding out a steady stream of these little plum-themed rice cakes. Filled with red bean paste, the cakes are cooked in metal molds, some of which are mechanized and some of which are filled and turned by hand. The result, at least for these mechanically-turned ones that we tried, is crisp, gooey, and sweet. They were served with a hot plum drink, salty and tart, that provided a strong contrast with the thick and earthily sweet bean paste. The pinks, reds and whites of the treat brought the colors of the spring blossoms that were beginning to appear across Dazaifu, down into the hand.