Just the shop.
商店 — shōten — means “the store.” Ours is a little Hakata provisions-shop on 49th that pours Midtown’s late-night ramen.
The soul of Hakata, in a Midtown counter
Hakata — the ramen heart of Fukuoka, in Japan’s south — does one thing with total conviction: tonkotsu. Pork bones simmered for hours until the broth turns silky and white, poured over thin, straight noodles that cook in seconds. We’ve been serving it in Midtown East for over a decade, the way it’s meant to be — kakuni pork belly on top, kaedama refills on call.
Then we sorted our soul into three: White the classic, Black the garlic-oil ma-yu, Red the fire — one broth, three moods.
No frills, no reservations, no closing early. A shop, a counter, a bowl, a lantern that stays lit till 3 AM.
Come sit at the counter — or take Hakata home.