The Not-So-Supreme Bowl: When 'Saiko' Falls Flat

There are three cardinal rules of ramen: make it simple, make it exciting, make it beautiful. Saiko Ramen, lurking among the food stalls on the middle floor of Sheffield's Cambridge Street Collective, has managed the impressive feat of breaking all three at once.

This new addition to the bustling food hall bears a name that translates from Japanese as "the best" or "supreme", a linguistic cheque which their bowls sadly lack the funds to cash.

With traditional options off the table, I settled for the Peking Duck Ramen (£12). The menu promised duck, jammy yolk, seasonal greens, shiitake mushrooms (which I naturally asked them to refrain from issuing), crispy shallots, spring onions, and pure sesame oil. A collection of ingredients that should, by all natural laws of cookery, result in something approaching deliciousness.

The bowl arrived looking desperately like a dish that had given up halfway through its own creation. If food has body language, this ramen was shrugging.

The duck component tasted pleasant enough in isolation, but was desperately seeking reinforcements from the broth, which never arrived. Broth: life-giving liquid that should be the soul of any ramen. Here it was thin, characterless, and seemingly suffering from an existential crisis. Was it creamy? No. Was it salty? Barely. Was it imbued with the deep, porky richness that makes good ramen so satisfying? Not by any stretch of the imagination. It was, quite simply, wet. It was both present and absent – physically there in the bowl but spiritually vacant.

The noodles completed this trifecta of disappointment. Rather than offering that joyful resistance that makes ramen noodles so pleasurable to eat – these surrendered immediately to the tooth, collapsing into a mushy submission. The texture suggested they might have been hastily rehydrated instant noodles rather than the fresh, bouncy strands one might reasonably expect for twelve quid.

If you find yourself craving a decent bowl of Japanese noodle soup, you'd be far better served heading to Let's Sushi at West One, where they haven't forgotten that the broth should taste of something more interesting than tap water.

The cruel irony of Saiko's name isn't lost on me. The supreme, the best, the highest – all translations that set expectations at a level the reality can't hope to reach.

I wanted to like Saiko. Perhaps it was an off day. Perhaps the Wagyu option at twice the price (a princely £24) would have delivered the depth so sorely lacking in my bowl. But I can only review what passed my lips, and what passed my lips was a bowl of lukewarm mediocrity that left me longing for a packet of Super Noodles and a decent stock cube.

Rating: 4/10 – Edible but forgettable.