The Udon Restaurant My Algorithm Influenced Me To Try

Edwin Goei
15 hours ago
6 min read

REVIEW: With its viral online popularity and well-executed dishes, Tsurukawa Udon may be the restaurant that finally breaks the curse of its location at The District in Tustin.

Himokawa Cold Udon Set at Tsurukawa Udon in Tustin. Photo by Edwin Goei, Culture OC

I eat what my algorithm feeds me. And I don’t mean that metaphorically. The constant and persuasive pull of my Instagram app has helped me decide, on many occasions, what or where I should be eating next. Whether it’s a viral recipe for a so-called dumpling bake or the cheapest place in town to get omakase, I am a sucker for suggestions given to me by a machine that, unfortunately, knows me too well.

It all reaches a critical mass when my algorithm syncs up with the algorithms of my friends. This was how four of us ended up at the new Tsurukawa Udon in Tustin. It wasn’t kismet. We’d all been compelled to try it by, at best, targeted marketing; at worst, some sort of techno-hypnosis.

I can unpack exactly why this happened. My friends are Japanophiles. On their feeds, they’ve been seeing viral videos about a particular shop in Tokyo called Godaime Hanayama Udon that specializes in noodles the width of karate belts. It was inevitable that their algorithm would eventually serve them videos of the one place in town offering the same dish.

Meanwhile, my algorithm knew that I — a Japanese food lover who’s tuned in to the local food scene — would also be unable to resist.

So there we were, on a sweltering July evening at The District in Tustin, herded into a line to eat udon with other lemmings guided by the same digital shepherd in the cloud. (Pro-tip from this lemming: Get yourself on the Yelp Waitlist at least an hour before arriving).

The restaurant — which occupied a prime corner spot deep in the belly of The District — was bustling. It was a drastic change from the ghost-town vibes I saw there a year ago, shortly before Rakkan Ramen closed in the same location.

Tsurukawa Udon. PHOTO 1: The front door with the outdoor patio on the left. PHOTO 2: A collection of tanuki figures decorate the restaurant. Photos by Edwin Goei, Culture OC

It’s common knowledge among locals that — despite the masses descending on Costco and Whole Foods at The District every day — eateries and businesses on the same island as AMC Theatres don't tend to last very long. The list of failures includes Five Guys (which occupied the space before Rakkan Ramen), the monumental collapse of Union Market, and a revolving door of concepts too many to count — or even remember.

But as we took our seats at Tsurukawa's outdoor patio (which is the better option since all the open windows in their dining room render the air conditioning pointless), I watched the breeze ripple through the colorful garlands strung across the courtyard above us. It was a calming sight, beautiful even. And it made me wonder: Why is there so much turnover here? What's really that different between this outdoor mall and Irvine Spectrum? And will Tsurukawa overcome this seemingly cursed location?

For now, the restaurant is riding a wave of online buzz. And judging by how overwhelmed the service staff was, they were just as surprised by their instant popularity as we were. From a hole in the wall that was lined with tanuki figurines — the mischievous raccoon dog of Japanese myth — I saw a frenetic kitchen staff trying to keep up with orders.

Out front, kinks were being ironed out in real time. The 10%-off soft-opening discount advertised on its latest Instagram post was apparently no longer being honored. And when we noticed that the QR-code menu had some items mistakenly priced at $0, we pointed out the obvious error to our server. He apologized, confirmed it was a mistake, and explained that those items weren't yet available at this branch.

When I asked him, "Isn't this the only store you have?" he paused for a beat, collected himself, and admitted, "You're right! Yes, this is the only one."

The Himokawa Cold Udon Set, left, and a closeup of the black sesame sauce. Photos by Edwin Goei, Culture OC

He was more confident when answering our question about their most popular item. In retrospect, we didn't have to ask. It was the Himokawa Cold Udon Set ($25). This was what we'd seen in all the viral reels — and why we were here.

Himokawa udon is a regional specialty from Gunma prefecture, a landlocked region northwest of Tokyo known as the country's largest producer of wheat. To compare it to other noodles, its width falls somewhere between pappardelle and a sheet of lasagna. According to a Japanese food history website I found, they're not just wide; they're supposed to be "exceptionally wide."

And it's that "exceptional" width that makes videos of people eating them go viral. In most Instagram reels, the duct-tape-wide noodles stretch from one corner of the eater's mouth to the other. But here at Tsurukawa, the noodles were of a more modest width, each strip a little less than two inches wide.

That didn't diminish their appeal. As I bit into my first strand, I felt a rubbery resistance. Yet the more I ate, the more addicted I became. I realized my enjoyment of it was exactly because of that elastic, bouncy and chewy texture — the same kind the Italians covet in their pasta and call "al dente.” But here it’s multiplied tenfold.

I also noticed the care taken in the presentation. The order arrived atop a flat wooden platform, the chilled noodles laid out carefully in an almost crosshatched pattern. For dipping, two sauces were supplied. One was a bright yuzu-soy sauce. The other was an earthy, creamy, intensely nutty black sesame blend, which was the better of the two. Pickles, a refreshing side salad, and an order of tempura rounded out a set tailor-made to be enjoyed on the patio on a summer day.

It would probably be wise to save the other udon dishes, especially the cream-based ones, for colder weather. Served in a tanuki-shaped bowl — which I realized then must be the restaurant’s unofficial mascot — the Mentaiko Cream Gochugaru Udon ($20) wasn't just served hot; it was scalding, submerged in an umami-packed cream sauce with a viscosity somewhere between carbonara and gravy.

Dishes at Tsurukawa Udon. PHOTO 1: Spinach cream smoked salmon udon. PHOTO 2: Mentaiko cream gochugaru udon. PHOTO 3: Oyster fry. PHOTO 4: Takoyaki (octopus-filled fritters). Photos by Edwin Goei, Culture OC

I didn't realize it was still boiling when I took my first slurp. The blister it left on the roof of my mouth took two days to heal. Would I order it again? Absolutely. The slow burn of the gochugaru, the fishy notes of the mentaiko, and the way they paired with the rich cream gave the dish a flavor profile I've never encountered before. But next time, I'm definitely going to blow on every strand before taking a bite.

The Spinach Cream Smoked Salmon Udon ($21) was just as seafood-forward but without the spiciness. It was the dish that, once and for all, convinced me that udon has to be the most versatile pasta in the Japanese kitchen. I don't think ramen or soba could bring together such disparate ingredients as cream, green onions, spinach, nori, bell peppers, Parmesan cheese and smoked salmon (fashioned into a rose) into one cohesive dish. Ramen would clash with the other flavors. Soba would disintegrate. The udon, on the other hand, was able to let the sauce components shine yet still maintain its chewy integrity.

And though this is an udon-focused restaurant, those avoiding carbohydrates could still conceivably make a meal out of the list of appetizers. An order of the oyster fry ($9) gets you five piping hot, panko-breaded, juice-gushing pieces with the potential to scald you even worse than the mentaiko udon mentioned earlier. The same goes for the mayo-drizzled, octopus-filled fritters called takoyaki (five for $7), which — as any of my Japanophile friends will tell you — are supposed to be served at the temperature of molten metal. But of course, there’s also good old chicken karaage ($9) and the fried pork cutlet called donkatsu ($9) for anyone in your party who prefers their protein be land-based.

What remains to be seen, however, is whether this winning roster of dishes will break the pattern of failure at this particular spot in The District.

About a month ago, Tsurukawa Udon’s debut was met with enthusiasm. There were lines out the door. The huge turnout was undoubtedly fueled by the same algorithms that "influenced" me and my friends to give it a try.

But I can think of only a few restaurants that have outlasted the fickle nature of internet fame — and even fewer that have managed to overcome “The District Curse.”

Just ask Rakkan Ramen. When it opened in this very location in 2022, the restaurant celebrated the fact that there was a "crowd of over 80 customers lined up as early as 9 a.m."

It shuttered three years later.