According to a study by…

But actually, who even cares? This cardboard-like, barely-edible packet, with which virtually all college students can identify, was a life saver in my early adult years.

Hey man, you’re young! It’s Monday night and you’re drunk as a skunk on the cheapest beer you can find…and you definitely don’t have any money left for food. What do you want? It’s college dude! You made it home, with almost all of your clothes this time, and you close your eyes as you open the refrigerator – hoping some magical piece of leftover pizza has appeared. But as you expected, all you’ve got is some wicked old milk, a crusty container of squeeze mustard and what’s left of the 30-pack of Busch Light you have from the weekend.

You’re already drunk but you don’t have class until 11am tomorrow, so you crack open another beer and walk into the pantry. A ramen-rainbow pile of old faithful awaits you organized perfectly in your meticulous-kept, third-floor apartment, fit for a – well, fit for a young, naive grad student. You kneel down with a can of Busch beside you to fumble through the lower cupboards in search of a pan for your gourmet creation: a true “ah-ha” moment occurs as you find the piece de resistance to make your magic – but you knock your beer over as you excitedly stand up: a true, college fail. You get up and throw a dish towel on the ground, your funeral for the spilled beer, and turn on the gas to get the water boiling. Back in the pantry, you decide on chicken flavor because the package is orange, your fav color this week, and you just can’t wait to consume a week’s worth of sodium in one sitting.

As the water heats up, you pop in Toad the Wet Sprocket to pass the two-minute cook time that seems like an eternity! But you get through it, thankfully, and burn the heck out of your mouth on the first spoonful. But you smile a few minutes later as you slurp the last bite, knowing you’ll be right back here before the week’s over.

Fast-forward a decade (or two) and suddenly, you feel like a cool kid again (and it’s taken a while). You have a couple of college degrees under your belt, a job, and a house with actual furniture in it. Now, you can afford some decent beer and you’re not usually strolling in wasted at midnight on a Monday (emphasis on usually). But your old friend is back, this time in style, and even more robust than you ever could have imagined.

My first adult ramen experience (and I use the term adult loosely) was in East Nashville about three years ago. Yielding historic Craftsman-style bungalows instead of historic Colonial and Victorian homes, this section of Nashville has the same college-life, hipster feel the East Side of Providence embodies. I was diggin’ the vibe and was ready to embrace some nostalgia.

My normal going-out attire had shifted greatly: I had traded my glittery tops and ankle-assaulting heels for a much larger, drinking suit of a men’s t-shirt, Gap jeans, and flip-flops. I mean, I was on vacation here, but it was a Wednesday, and it was 9pm, and I was already exhausted (talk about getting older).

Guiding me through the menu for the first time, my sister joined in my excitement. She too, remembers the importance of the $0.10 ramen of our youth. After a short flashback to those Monday night college days, I chose a chicken dish. The wait seemed like an eternity (and for the record, was way longer than two minutes). The result, a masterpiece like something I had never imagined ramen could be. Colors, spices, vegetables, REAL CHICKEN! I was floored: I was also hooked.

Since that night, I’ve tried ramen wherever I can. Different spices and for different vices: when it comes to ramen, I’m up for anything. Me, my t-shirt, jeans and flip-flops, alone or in good company, I’m always ready for ramen.

Ramen, my dear old friend, I loved you then, I love you now and I’ll see you soon.