Some bowls of ramen aren’t just meals—they’re invitations: to slow down, pay attention, and remember why you fell in love with food in the first place. At Ramen Ron, every bite demands that kind of devotion.
On our map, Michelin Selected Ramen Ron occupies stop number 21: part of a twelve-month journey through 108 Michelin-recognized restaurants across the Philippines, beginning October 30, the day the country formally entered the Michelin firmament. It is not a victory lap nor a checklist exercise, but a way of taking stock, bowl by bowl, of what endures.
Ramen Ron is not a destination discovered by accident. One arrives here with intention, guided by reputation and memory rather than hype. Its lineage traces back to Ukokkei Ramen Ron, the once-formidable Manila ramen house that demanded submission to craft.
Chef Hiroyuki Tamura presided with doctrinal rigor; the broth was the message, and the rules were absolute. The sobriquet “ramen Nazi,” while inelegant, captured a deeper truth: this was a kitchen governed by conviction, not accommodation.
When Ukokkei shut its doors, it seemed less a business decision than a cultural diminishment, another serious restaurant yielding to a softer, more forgiving era. Yet in 2020, Tamura-san returned and aligned with Margarita Fores and her son Amado in a collaboration grounded not in compromise but mutual respect for discipline.
Ramen Ron reemerged first as austere DIY kits during pandemic lockdown, then as brick-and-mortar establishments in Rockwell and BGC, carrying forward the same uncompromising ethos.
This is ramen that resists casual consumption. It requires attention, posture, and a willingness to be instructed. The broth is flavorful with intent. Michelin’s recognition feels less like an accolade than an acknowledgment, proof that rigor, even now, still has an audience.
Ukokkei Miso Chashu Ramen
This is comfort, yes—but not the lazy kind. It’s the sort of bowl that collapses distance.
One spoonful in and I’m back in Japan, chasing steam from a ramen-ya on a cold Tokyo night.
Thirteen days ago, we were there I. The land of the rising sun, standing over a counter, slurping with gusto. Now we are back at the archipelago and somehow that makes the longing sharper. The problem with ramen done this well is that it doesn’t satisfy wanderlust. It triggers it. You finish the bowl already plotting your return, passport half-packed, broth still clinging to memory.
Soft Shell Crab 350
I’m a sucker for buns. Pork, crunchy chicken karaage between fluffy white pillowy bread and I’m already reaching for my wallet. A soft shell crab bun, though, was uncharted territory. I saw it on the menu, caught a glimpse of the photo, and that was it. No inner debate. I ordered it immediately, already convinced it would make perfect, reckless sense alongside my Ukokkei Miso Chashu Ramen.
I’m glad I didn’t resist. The first bite delivered exactly what I was hoping for: that shattering crunch of soft shell crab giving way to rich, lavish indulgence. Then comes the taba ng talangka mayo. Think decadent, sinful, gloriously excessive, clinging to the bun like it knows it belongs there. It’s the kind of dish that doesn’t ask permission. Just pure, messy pleasure. Heaven, briefly and completely, on the palate.
Gyoza
Even the gyoza refused to be an afterthought. The skins were thin, almost translucent, barely containing the succulent ground pork within—juicy, savory, and deeply satisfying. It turned out to be the ideal bridge between the Ukokkei ramen and the soft shell crab bun, grounding the meal while amplifying it.
Before I knew it, I was stuck in a loop. Ramen. Bun. Gyoza. Back to ramen. A perfect trifecta, each bite recalibrating the next. The broth cleansed, the bun indulged, the gyoza anchored everything in porky reality. It’s the kind of rhythm you fall into when the kitchen gets it right—no pause, no hierarchy, just an instinctive return to what tastes good, over and over again.
A Slight Edge at the Table
The handsome husband went for the Batchoy Ramen, a respectful nod to the beloved Iloilo broth, and paired it with Ebi Tempura. Admirable, yes , thoughtful even. But let’s be honest, I like to think my choices the Ukokkei Miso Chashu, the soft shell crab bun, the gyoza trifecta, edge his out just slightly. Just slightly, of course. After all, it’s not really a competition…except that, in this case, I might have won haha
In the end, it’s not just about ramen, buns, or gyoza—it’s about the little victories that make every bite, and every journey, worth savoring.
Ramen Ron’s Rockwell branch is located at G/F, RS-103, Edades Tower, Rockwell
Pigoutmanila 