🍜 Instant Ramen: The Incredible, True Story of “Mr. Noodle” | 44

Wondery Plus subscribers can listen to the best idea yet early and ad-free right now.

Join Wondery Plus in the Wondery app or on Apple Podcasts.

So, Nick, the other day, I had an icebreaker question.

I had to meet new people, and they're like, Tell me your absolute favorite food in the world.

Do you know what I said?

What did you say?

A peanut butter jelly sandwich.

One that is in a Ziploc bag that's been in my pocket all day.

The kind that's like smushed.

Those are the most satisfying sandwiches you'll ever have.

Yeah, you can also see the concave shape of your butt into that thing.

There was a phase in my life where I'd buy a loaf of bread and turn it into like 12 PBJs and just stock them in the fridge so that I could grab and go anytime.

I mean, it's breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.

What's your survival snack?

I was going to say the most inflation-proof product in the history of money.

The banana?

Yeah, the banana.

The price of a banana hasn't changed in 50 years.

It's still roughly 20 cents a banana.

Everyone has that one ride or die snack that got them through their scrappy days.

Maybe it was a $1 slice, or maybe it was a gas station coffee.

But the real MVP of the broke but ambitious era, you already know it.

Instant ramen.

The unofficial meal plan of every freshman since the 1970s and the official fuel of entrepreneurship since forever.

You can make the case that many of the products we've covered on this show would not exist without ramen noodles.

Ramen has arguably scaled more startups than venture capital.

One reason why, it's one of the highest calorie to price ratios of any food product ever.

I mean, Jack, back in the mid-2000s when we were eating ramen the most, you could buy a 10 pack of this stuff for under a dollar.

10 cents per bowl.

And there's only three steps to prepare.

You boil the water, you wait, you enjoy.

After that, you could run a marathon or do a marathon coding session Maybe even both and get this instant ramen is still going strong because Americans today slurp down over 5 billion servings of instant ramen every single year

and Globally humans eat over 100 billion ramens per year That's almost a hundred times the number of happy meals ordered per year But behind that crinkly plastic wrapper is a much bigger business story one that starts in a backyard shed in post-war Japan when one man stared into a bowl of noodles and saw the future.

That man, Momofuku Ando, the inventor of instant ramen and the founder of Nissen Foods, a multi-billion dollar empire built on cheap noodles and a rich vision.

The guy who created the first ever cup noodles.

He cracked the code on feeding the masses and turned a late night snack into a global empire worth over $8 billion.

And he did it by identifying the most valuable resource on Earth.

And we ain't talking about noodles.

This is a story of hunger, resilience, and serious business instincts.

Along the way, we'll encounter a high-stakes hostage crisis and one giant translation typo that ended up paying off big.

All while uncovering how a humble block of fried noodles became one of the world's most successful food inventions.

So, Jack, I got just one question to ask: chicken flavor or beef?

For your call, just add an ice cube to my bowl so it doesn't burn my tongue.

Here's why instant ramen is the best idea yet.

From Wondery and T-Boy, I'm Nick Martell and I'm Jack Kravici Kramer.

And this is the best idea yet.

The untold origin stories of the products you're obsessed with and the bold risk takers who made them go viral.

I got that feeling of gay.

Something familiar but new.

We got it coming to you.

got that feeling again.

They changed the name in one move.

It's not it hookah.

It's your man, Nick Cannon.

I'm here to bring you my new podcast, Nick Cannon at Night.

Every week, I'm bringing out some of my celebrity friends and the best experts in the business to answer your most intimate relationship questions.

So don't be shy.

Join the conversation and head over to YouTube to watch Nick Cannon at Night or subscribe on the Wondery app or or wherever you get your podcast.

What if I told you that the crime of the century is happening right now?

From coast to coast, people are fleeing flames, wind, and water.

Nature is telling us, I can't take this anymore.

These are the stories we need to be telling about our changing planet: stories of scams, murders, and cover-ups, and the things we're doing to either protect the Earth or destroy it.

This is Lawless Planet.

Follow Lawless Planet on the Wondery app or wherever you get your podcasts.

The war is over, but Japan is in ruins.

In Osaka, destruction is everywhere.

The city has been bombed to near oblivion.

Streets once packed with vendors and shoppers are now littered with rubble and twisted steel.

Buildings are scorched-out shells.

It's August 15th, 1945, the day after Japan accepted its surrender to the Allied forces, ending World War II, and one week after two Japanese cities were hit with nuclear bombs.

Food is scarce, and what little there is gets rationed.

The government actually banned the private sale of food to control supplies, but black markets have sprung up anyway.

In alleys and abandoned lots, makeshift food stalls are serving desperate crowds.

The scent of soy, pork, and garlic cuts through the lingering smoke.

And in one of these Osaka black markets, one man threads his way through the crowd.

He's in his mid-30s, dressed simply, his face set in determination.

This is Momofuku Ando.

Before the war, Momofuku was a successful businessman working in the textile industry.

But the air raids took everything.

His company, his home, and most of his life savings.

So now he's starting from scratch.

And as he walks these charred streets and sees the black market food stalls, he is searching for his next move.

He stops in front of a noodle stall.

It's just a metal cart with a pot of broth and a single cook lifting noodles into bowls with a wire strainer.

Puffs of steam escape the pot in between each serving.

There's a long line of people, mostly poor and hungry, standing patiently in the cold.

What are they waiting for?

A bowl of ramen.

And let's back up for a quick but important note on ramen history.

Ramen was not originally Japanese.

Ramen actually evolved from other noodle dishes made by Chinese immigrants in the late 19th century.

But by the 1940s, ramen had become deeply rooted in working-class Japanese cuisine.

A salty broth, chewy noodles, a few slices of pork or bamboo.

We're talking the ultimate comfort food here.

Momofuku watches as the customers take their balls, slurping down the steaming noodles.

And despite the incredibly bleak surroundings, they actually smile.

One old man with a long beard is near tears as he lifts a single sliced scallion from his spoon to his mouth.

And boom, that's when something clicks.

Why are people standing in the cold risking a rest just for a bowl of ramen?

Because a hot bowl of ramen reminds them of the normalcy of times before the war.

Bomofuku realizes bread and rations fill stomachs, but ramen feeds the soul.

And in that moment, an idea takes root.

If ramen can bring comfort in a war zone, what could it do in peace?

What if these people didn't have to stand in the cold just to get a bowl of it?

What if they could easily make it in the comfort of their own home?

Now, he doesn't know how to do it yet, but he's convinced that peace will come to the world when people have enough to eat.

And maybe, just maybe, this ramen line is pointing him in the right direction.

That night in the black market sticks with Momofuku over the next decade, even as he works on a bunch of other food products, salt, a protein extract, whatever might efficiently help feed Japan's hungry masses.

But over and over and over again, our guy Momofuku just keeps coming back to ramen.

Like, why hasn't anyone figured out a way to make it more accessible?

Why is no one solving this delicious puzzle?

So he starts digging.

At the time, Japan has an interesting problem.

It's swimming in surplus wheat from the United States, part of America's plan to stabilize the country through food and aid after the war.

Sorry, Dr.

Atkins, America is carboload in Japan.

But instead of turning the U.S.

wheat supply into noodles, Japan's government is pushing bread hard.

The government's calling bread stamina food.

It's cheap and filling, but it's also very Western.

Momofuku is not on board with this big bread propaganda being pushed on him.

To him, food isn't just fuel, it is identity, it is culture.

He even says, quote, if you change your diet, you are in effect throwing away your traditions and cultural heritage.

In other words, trading noodles out for toast would be cultural treason.

Plus, ramen just makes sense.

It's already a beloved staple people go out of their way to consume locally.

If he can just find a way to mass produce it, ramen could ironically be the biggest innovation since sliced bread.

Exactly.

But there's just one pretty major hiccup with that idea.

Ramen production in 1950s Japan, it's not exactly a well-oiled machine.

Traditionally, noodles were dried on racks in the sun, which is less industrial food production and more someone's grandma forgot these noodles on their laundry rack.

Yeah, and the few noodle companies that do exist, they don't have the resources or infrastructure to scale, not even close.

It's a localized, fragmented industry.

Let's say you're from the prefecture of Kyoto.

You're only gathering ramen ingredients from a family that set up the one noodle shop in the neighborhood half a century ago.

Which actually leads to another problem.

Not just the businesses, but the product itself.

Right now, most people are getting their noodles fresh, so they need to be cooked right away or else they'll spoil.

Instant noodles don't exist yet, so ramen is a fully perishable product.

But Jack, our man Momofuku, he has never been the type to sit back and wait for someone else to solve a problem.

During the war, he shifted into charcoal production and barrack housing.

After the war, he tried to fight malnutrition by creating a protein supplement.

I mean, this man has hustle.

So he figures: if no one else is going to innovate on ramen, I guess I'll do it.

He wants a product that is fast, affordable, and tastes just as good as the street stall stuff.

How hard could it be?

Behind a modest house in Ikeda sits a weathered but well-built shed with warped wooden walls and a tin roof that groans whenever the wind picks up.

Inside, it smells like wheat flour, oil, and disappointment.

Momofuku is hunched over a battered workbench, sleeves rolled up, sweat beating on his brow.

He kneads dough with aching hands and then feeds it through a hand-cranked noodle cutter.

The strands of noodles fall into neat rows, and he lays them gently onto a bamboo mat to dry.

Maybe this batch will be the one.

Hey, it just takes one.

But a noodle breaks.

Then another, and another.

Oh my god.

The noodles are drying unevenly.

Again.

Some strands are too brittle and crumble in his hands.

He slams his palm on the table in frustration.

It's now 1958, more than a decade since that night in the black market.

And Momofuku has spent nearly a full year trying to develop a packet of ramen that is tasty, shelf-stable, quick to cook, and just to toss in one more critical variable here, cheap enough for anyone to actually buy.

The noodles themselves are easy enough to make, Nick.

A simple water and flour dough rolled out and cut.

But there's one step that's just got him flummoxed: drying the noodles.

He has tried everything: sun-drying, indoor racks, starch coatings.

Nothing works.

It doesn't help that he's a total noodle noob, by the way.

This guy taught himself everything through trial and error and more error and sheer stubbornness.

But now, Momofuku feels like he's running out of time and his patience is hanging by a thread.

He storms out of the shed and into the house, ready to throw in the towel.

But then, he stops in the doorway.

In the kitchen, his wife is at the stove, frying vegetables.

She drops a slice of sweet potato into into a pot of hot oil.

The batter crackles.

In seconds, it crisps up, perfectly golden.

A light bulb goes off from Omofuku.

Flash frying.

That's it.

He bolts back to the shed, fires up a walk, grabs a handful of noodles, and drops them into the oil.

They puff and harden instantly.

He pulls them out and stares.

Breaks one open just to double check.

It is firm, airy, and light.

This crispy noodle might just be the key to everything.

This one small tweak in the cooking process, frying it first, is a culinary innovation, although maybe not a whole new invention.

No one else is flash frying noodles at the time, but the process of flash frying itself is a widely used cooking technique.

It's not like Momofuku can patent that.

He'll need to get a bit more specific with his invention if he wants to own it.

And now, Jack, this part may be my favorite because this is a highly strategic move.

Hold the beef, pause the pork, because Momofuku settles on chicken broth for the flavor.

Not because chicken is the most exciting option, it's the least offensive option.

Like a hungry venture capitalist might say that chicken has the largest market size.

It has the greatest number of potential customers.

There are no religious restrictions surrounding chicken, no dietary red flags around chicken, just universally palatable poultry.

And that could one day make this concept a profit puppy.

So Momofuku simmers the noodles in chicken broth before flash-frying them to lock in the flavor.

Then he adds seasoning for a little extra kick.

All consumers would have to do is take a packet of the noodles, put it in a pot of boiling water, and then mix in the seasoning.

I mean, millions, no, billions of people have done this exact same cooking ritual.

It all started right here with Momofuku and a pot of hot oil inspired by his wife.

Suddenly, ramen that used to take hours to prepare now takes only two minutes.

It feels like sorcery.

So fitting, Momofuku calls it magic ramen.

The product is done.

It works.

It's delicious.

Now all Momofuku had to do is convince an entire country to ditch fresh noodles for these flash-fried bricks in a bag.

Yeah, no big deal.

Just asking asking 95 million people to change a century-old tradition.

Good luck, Momo Fuku.

Grandma's not going to like this one.

Today's show is brought to you by Amazon Small Business.

Nick and I are obsessed with this hot, crispy chili oil called Boone.

Yeah, it's great.

Spicy, crunchy, goes on everything.

Pasta, pizza, even paella.

Total game changer for my fridge.

Okay, but yet, here's what's wild.

This incredible chili oil is actually from a small company in Los Angeles.

And when I ran out recently, I was amazed I could get it delivered the very next day because this small business chili oil, it's on Amazon.

And that's part of a bigger story.

Did you know more than 60% of sales in Amazon store are from independent sellers, most of which are small and medium-sized businesses.

That means your next go-to sauce, soap, or skincare routine might come from a local small business, not a big corporation.

Here's the thing, Besties.

Most small businesses want to focus on what they do best, making amazing products.

But handling the storing, the packing, the delivery, that's the tricky part and that is where amazon steps in by handling fulfillment and shipping logistics amazon helps small businesses get their products out into the world fast it's a partnership that goes together like well boon chili oil and just about everything so the next time you're shopping think small check out amazon.com slash support small

Last we left Momofuku, he just had his flash frying epiphany.

The one that'll change noodle history and and as a result, entrepreneurial and tech history forever.

Now it's the same year, 1958, and he's ready to get selling.

Step one, rebrand.

No name, no game.

So he pulls off a name storm and renames his company Nissen Food Products.

Officially, the name comes from the Japanese word Nichi, meaning day, and shin, meaning pure.

And together, it's meant to be a nod to his mission of delivering rich flavor purely every day.

Also a little subtle subliminal messaging that this ramen is a daily habit.

But some food historians think the real strategy is even sneakier.

Because Nissin sounds a lot like Nishin, which just so happens to be Japan's largest wheat processor at the time.

Classic knockoff move.

Not Adidas, a Bibis.

A little shady, but it's clever.

It works because it plays into consumer psychology.

People trust what sounds familiar, even if they're not sure why.

Momofuku knows that perception often comes before consumption.

If the branding gets them in the door, the noodles will get them to come back.

So in August 1958, Momofuku officially launches Chicken Ramen, Nissen Foods' very first product.

But when he pitches it to wholesalers, they laugh him out of the room.

The noodles come in a crinkly cellophane bag and look like a brick of yellow worms.

This franken food, it's too strange to sell.

Yeah, this is not a good look.

Oh, plus, yeah, chicken ramen costs six times more than fresh noodles from the market.

We should point out, he's not pricing this much because he's gouging them, right?

No, he's not.

The problem is that his flash frying process is still too manual and too small-scale.

He hasn't achieved the most delicious concept in business yet: economies of scale.

In the meantime, the wholesalers just dismiss Momofuku's instant ramen as a fad, a gimmick, the MySpace of meals.

But Momofuku doesn't listen to him.

Instead, he sets out to prove them wrong with some direct-to-consumer marketing, like really direct.

He hits the streets of Osaka and sets up tasting tables, handing out free samples.

He pitches his product to anyone who will listen.

This isn't just convenient, it's the future.

It lasts for months on your shelf, maybe even years.

It's incredibly easy to prepare.

Just boil water and cook the noodles for two minutes.

Plus, it still honors the essence of our Japanese cuisine.

And the real genius here, Jack, is that what he's actually selling isn't noodles.

He's selling time, the most valuable commodity of the 20th century.

Time-saved cooking.

Oh, and time-saved shopping because you can stock up on these noodles for months.

People aren't just buying that rich, savory broth.

They're buying efficiency.

And you know what?

It works.

Word spreads fast and chicken ramen becomes an instant hit.

Within eight months, Neeson is producing roughly six to ten thousand packages of instant ramen per day.

And it's basically a family business.

It's just Momofuku, his wife, their son, and about 20 employees doing mostly everything by hand.

The cooking, the packaging, the sealing, the whole thing is held together with hustle, hope, and a sprinkle of that chicken seasoning.

But even at full tilt jack, they are barely breaking even on this thing.

Let's talk some ramenomics here, because strangely, chicken ramen is a hot commodity, but it's also a luxury item.

That's the irony of the early story of instant ramen.

Momofuku set out to feed the hungry, but now he's selling expensive noodles that only early adopters can afford.

If Momofuku wants to reach the working families, the broke students, the people who really need this invention, he's going to need a new secret ingredient.

Not for the noodles, for the business model.

And he's going to need it fast because competitors are already coming for him.

The instant ramen copycats are on the rise.

Momofuku is winning fans from the snows of Mount Fuji to the streets of Osaka.

But they're not the people he set out to feed.

If he wants to fight hunger for real, he'll need some serious help.

Someone with deep pockets and major reach.

Enter the Mitsubishi Corporation.

Yeah, the car maker.

But in 1959, Mitsubishi is better known as Japan's most powerful trading house.

Think of Japanese trading houses as Swiss Army knives of business.

They do it all.

They import, they export, they invest, they even help launch startups.

Unlike pretty much anything we see in America, Japanese trading houses are extremely diversified.

Tech, food, cars, chemicals, all in one company.

Everything is fair game.

Yeah, the Japanese trading house actually goes back hundreds of years, but right now in our story, Mitsubishi is seeing instant ramen as the perfect product for the current moment.

A period we now call the Japanese economic miracle.

The post-World War II boom of Japan's economy culminated in the magnificent 1964 Tokyo Olympics.

That economic boom means more people are moving into cities, cranking away at new white-collar office jobs, and cooking on electric stoves.

All that time commuting, working, and schlepping, Mitsubishi thinks Japan's new economy will run on convenience, specifically convenient meals.

It's the same shift that's about to hit the United States with TV dinners.

The proliferation of home refrigeration, microwaves, and TV sets means convenience food is the future.

And Momofuku sees it coming early.

He knows that people's increasingly most valuable asset is time.

And with Mitsubishi backing Nissan, production explodes.

They go from hand-packing 6,000 units a day in 1958 to 1.2 million per day in 1960.

They go full factory mode and scale up 200x in just two years.

And thanks to economies of scale, Momofuku is able to steadily lower the price of instant ramen over the next decade.

More product equals lower prices.

It's basic business math.

Spread out the fixed costs like labor and equipment across more units, and you can charge less.

So chicken ramen gets cheaper, which makes it more popular.

And Momofuku becomes something of a household name.

Across Japan, people start calling him maybe the coolest nickname on our show so far.

Mr.

noodle

but even that decidedly awesome nickname can't protect momofuku from the thing that keeps every business owner up at night competition mr noodle may have gotten there first but he's not alone for long in just a few years there are 56 other ramen manufacturers all vying for national tummy share Chicken ramen is now just one noodle in a crowded bowl, and it's starting to lose its steam.

Sales slip and margins shrink.

Mr.

Noodle can't coast on novelty alone anymore.

So he starts rethinking the entire operation, the pricing, the packaging, even the audience.

And before long, he sets his sights beyond Japan to a country where ramen isn't even on the menu.

Yet.

Momofuku finds himself standing in the fluorescent-lit break room of the biggest supermarket he's ever seen.

It's 1966, and he's in the good old US of A to demo his instant ramen to American executives.

He's dreaming of slurping customers, steaming bowls, and moments of reverent silence.

But that's not

what happens.

There's no stove, no bowls, just a hot water dispenser next to the coffee machine and a whole stack of paper cups.

He watches in horror as these American buyers crush the brick of noodles while it's still in the packaging.

Then they jam it all into coffee cups and douse it in hot water before digging into their ramen with plastic forks.

Then they chat casually, standing while they eat.

Momo Fuku is appalled.

This is not how you're supposed to eat ramen.

There's no ritual, no respect, no chopsticks for crying out loud.

It's like these American customers are desecrating the very soul of his invention.

But then it clicks.

These Yankees aren't being disrespectful.

They're being efficient.

This is what convenience looks like in America.

Momofuku realizes if ramen's going to thrive here, it needs a total reinvention.

Not just new flavors, but a whole new format to satisfy Americans' mouths, hearts, and wallets.

So he heads back to Japan and gets to work.

The new goal, ramen you can eat one-handed.

No bowls, no cleanup.

Just heat, eat, and toss.

Nissen starts cranking out prototypes.

They come up with nearly 40 different container designs.

Eventually, they land on a wide-topped cup made from polystyrene foam.

That would be styrofoam.

It's lightweight, cheap, and has good heat insulation.

Check, check, check.

The final product is a sleek, self-contained cup with noodles, seasonings, toppings, and even a plastic fork tucked inside.

Convenience conquered.

Momofuku has gotten over the whole lack of chopstick issue.

The result?

Cup noodle.

Yes, that's noodle singular.

Funny side note, a translation error left the S off the original noodles design, hence noodle with no S.

They just ran with it for a while.

Now, even though this is designed with an American audience in mind, Cup Noodle first debuts in Japan in 1971, and the branding is bold and modern.

Red English lettering, gold accents, a touch of Japanese script.

It screams futuristic and global.

And it's a turning point for Momofuku, who once believed that eating bread meant betraying Japanese identity.

Now he's doing something no one saw coming, not even himself.

He's reimagining ramen to fit a whole different culture.

Okay, enough reflecting, we still have a product to sell that's getting cold.

And Cup Noodle is a tough sell at first.

Once again, we've got a price problem.

It costs four times the price of Momofuku's original chicken ramen because this Styrofoam cup version costs that much more to manufacture.

And in Japan, eating while standing kind of rude.

So the whole grab and go concept just feels off.

Still, Momofuku believes habits can change, and he's betting on one group to lead the way.

If he can get them to buy in, then the rest of Japan and the world might just follow.

It's your man, Nick Cannon, and I'm here to bring you my new podcast, Nick Cannon at Night.

I've heard y'all been needing some advice in the love department.

So, who better to help than yours truly?

Nah, I'm serious.

Every week, I'm bringing out some of my celebrity friends and the best experts in the business to answer your most intimate relationship questions.

Having problems with your man?

We got you.

Catching feelings for your sneaky link?

Let's make sure it's the real deal first.

Ready to bring toys into the bedroom?

Let's talk about it.

Consider this a non-judgment zone to ask your questions when it comes to sex and modern dating in relationships, friendships, situationships, and everything in between.

It's going to be sexy, freaky, messy, and you know what?

You'll just have to watch the show.

So don't be shy.

Join the conversation and head over to YouTube to watch Nick Cannon at night or subscribe on the Wondery app or wherever you get your podcast.

Want to watch episodes early and ad-free?

Join Wondery Plus right now.

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.

Don't you dare drive that Toyota through Tokyo's Ginza district.

The streets are closed to cars.

It's transformed into a pedestrian paradise.

A sea of people flood the clean, wide boulevard lined with gleaming department stores and trendy boutiques.

College students in bell bottoms and miniskirts, couples in matching pea coats, kids clutching the latest toys from Mitsukoshi, Japan's biggest department store.

It is November 1971, and right there on the sidewalk, across from a brand new McDonald's, Japan's first one, is Momofuku, standing behind a simple folding table he set up.

On it, neatly stacked packages of cup noodle and a portable hot water dispenser.

It's not much, but Momofuku is making a bold bet.

The same stylish young people buying Big Macs and Beatles records will be the first to fall in love with cup noodle.

And Jack, it's also a savvy move.

Momofuku might be in his 60s by this point, but he's still got his finger on the pulse.

And he knows exactly where to find Japan's early adopters, the kids chasing novelty and shaping what's cool.

His strategy works better than anyone could have imagined.

In just four hours, he sells more than 20,000 cup noodles.

But Mr.

Noodle isn't stopping with sidewalk stunts.

That same month, Neeson rolls out custom cup noodle vending machines that are stocked to the brim and come equipped with their own built-in hot water dispensers.

They install 20,000 of them all over Japan.

They're at train stations, office buildings, city sidewalks.

Suddenly, as ramen is hitting the vending machines, a hot meal is never more than a few steps away.

Cup noodles are actually one of the very first food products to get sold out of vending machines.

Momofuku is seeing the future.

And once again, he's found a way to cut the price.

A lot cheaper when you don't have a ramen retail store with noodle pitching employees.

And he's found a way to save you time.

Few experiences are faster than a coin-operating vending machine in a subway station.

And then, just a few months later, fate hands Momofuku the kind of marketing moment you just can't plan for.

In an apartment in Osaka, a salary man sits cross-legged on his tatami mat, watching TV with his wife.

The room glows with the blue light of the television set.

The heater clicks in the corner.

Switching channels between a baseball game and a game show, their program is suddenly interrupted by a breaking news bulletin.

A group of leftist radicals from an outfit called the United Red Army has taken a woman hostage at a ski resort in the mountains of Nagano Prefecture.

It will become known as the Osama-Sanzo Incident, and it's a huge incident for Ramen, too.

For 10 days, the country is glued to their TVs.

Helicopters hover overhead.

Cameras zoom in on the snow-covered chalet where police and snipers stand watch.

The standoff is tense, dangerous, and people can't look away.

As the hours and days drag on, the news plays B-roll between updates.

Quiet shots of officers waiting in the cold.

And that is when the salary man notices something.

One officer, crouched behind a snowbank, is holding a white cup.

He peels back the lid, a quick puff of steam.

Then he digs in with a plastic fork.

What he's eating is cup noodle.

The image flashes across millions of screens across Japan.

Again and again, officers in helmets and body armor shivering in the cold warming up with Momofuku's noodles.

This is Cup Noodle's Super Bowl commercial.

Except guess what?

They didn't have to pay for any of it.

Marketing is what you pay for.

Publicity is what you pray for.

It's a collection of quiet but powerful moments, but it proves that Cup Noodle delivers on its promise.

Hot food, anywhere, anytime, even in a national emergency.

And the country takes note.

Suddenly, cup noodle isn't just convenient, it's essential.

Cup noodle is a survival food.

Yes, it is.

It just got tapped with the ultimate adjective, necessity.

Something you stock up on at home just in case.

Japan, they're sold.

Despite the odds and the price and the packaging and the whole eat it while standing thing, the Japanese have embraced cup noodle.

But the real test is still ahead.

Because now, catapulted by that unexpectedly lucrative hostage situation, Momofuku is ready to bring his reinvented ramen back to where the whole idea started.

And he's betting his entire noodle business on American college freshmen.

It's well past midnight.

A college student is cramming for finals in his dorm, running on fumes.

He's got just five bucks left on his meal meal plan, and he's this close to tearing open another dried Nature Valley granola bar from his mom's latest care package when something incredible hits his nose.

It's savory, salty, warm.

Whatever it is, it makes that granola bar suddenly seem like sawdust.

He follows the smell down the hall to the common room, where another student is hunched over a steaming cup.

He asks what she's eating.

She grins and turns the label toward him.

Cup noodle.

A cheap new thing from Japan.

That's all he needs to hear.

He races to grab some of his own.

And he's not the only one.

Cup Noodle spreads fast on college campuses and soon across America.

But this moment didn't happen by accident.

Since launching Cup Noodle in Japan in 1971, Momofuku has been fine-tuning the product for the American market.

He knows it needs to feel familiar.

Sushi and Tsuiyaki are starting to catch on in cities like New York and LA, but instinct ramen, it's still totally foreign.

So he makes some strategic changes with one customer in mind.

A 19-year-old American student who's never traveled outside the country, has zero budget, and thinks ramen is just another kind of spaghetti.

The noodles are cut shorter, so they're easier to eat with a fork.

And the flavors are adaptive.

Beef and shrimp are in, squid and curry stay in Japan.

And the spicy stuff, yeah, he's just going to leave that out completely.

Even the branding gets a homey little makeover.

It's no longer cup noodle.

It's cup O noodles with an S and a quirky little O that makes it feel more at home in the pantry next to Chef Boyardi's spaghetti O's.

Chicken ramen also gets a new Americanized name.

You might have heard of it, Top Ramen.

Cup of Noodles officially hits the shelves in the States in 1973.

And thanks to that focus on the universal value of time, Cup of Noodles fans quickly expand beyond students to shift workers, nurses, basically anyone who needs a hot meal on a tight budget.

It's fast, it's satisfying, and by the early 80s, just like Toyota and Anda, top ramen is everywhere in America.

Nissen is firmly planted as a global brand.

In 1993, two decades after it's introduced to the American market, Cup of Noodles drops the O and becomes Cup Noodles.

And even into his 90s, Momo Fuku keeps on innovating.

He sets his sights higher, literally as high as you can go, because he starts developing Space ROM, a vacuum-packed ramen for astronauts.

Because why should zero gravity get in the way of a hot noodle lunch?

And Space ROM makes its way onto the space shuttle discovery in 2005.

A couple years later, Momofuku passes away at the age of 96.

And his family says he was slurping chicken ramen nearly every day, right up till the end.

Momofuku's funeral reflects how big an impact his company had on the world.

It's held in a baseball stadium.

34 clergy members officiate.

Two former prime ministers attend, one of whom gives a eulogy, calling Momofuku the creator of a culinary culture that post-war Japan can be proud of.

Cup noodles are now sold in 80 countries and territories, each with its own local twist, like mushroom cup noodles in Germany and masala cup noodles in India.

Over 50 billion cup noodles have been sold worldwide.

Instant ramen, it may be cheap and it may be fast, but it's also a monument to resilience and to the kind of hunger that can build an empire.

One noodle at a time.

Sunik, now that you've heard the story of instant ramen, what's your takeaway?

The magic of instant ramen isn't just in the noodles, it's in the clock.

Momofuku's real insight was recognizing the most valuable asset of the 20th century, time.

His innovation wasn't just the flavor of the packaging.

It was really an understanding the importance of time and giving people more of it by buying his noodles.

And once you see that lens, you might realize that tons of companies are selling time.

Lululemon's pitch, yoga pants that you can wear straight from the studio to brunch, no outfit change required.

Sweet green and chipotle, fast, healthy lunches you can eat at your desk.

Boom, time savers.

Even curated newsletters or daily news podcasts are time savers in disguise.

Ramen didn't just feed people, it gave them back their time.

What about you, Jack?

What's your takeaway?

Mine is how instant ramen is a textbook example of economies of scale.

The first batch of instant ramen cost a fortune to produce.

But once Neeson scaled production, the cost to produce a batch of ramen fell fast, like down from 10 bucks per ramen to 10 cents fast.

Your fixed costs, the factory, equipment, and setup, they can all be brutally expensive investments.

But if you're cranking out a billion units, those fixed costs start to look tiny.

Ramen's not cheap because it's simple.

It's cheap because it's scaled like crazy.

That's the magic of economies of scale.

Yes, it is.

Now, Jack, it is time for our favorite part of the show, the best facts yet.

The facts, hero stats, and surprise details we just couldn't fit into the story.

All right, Jack, hit us up.

What do you got?

Teeth off.

There's not one, but two cup noodle museums in Japan.

You can walk through the history of instant ramen and design your own custom cup noodles to take home.

And yes, complete with your own choice of toppings and packaging.

Also, Jack, there is a children's book about Momofuku's life called Magic Ramen, The Story of Momofuku Ando.

It's beautifully illustrated, by the way, and honestly, a pretty inspiring read, even if you're well past the picture book stage.

Here's another one: Celebrity chef David Chang runs a whole food empire under the name Momofuku, which translates to lucky peach, but it's also a nod to the creator of Instant Ramen.

Although David admits his $30 per bowl ramen isn't exactly in the spirit of the original Mr.

Noodle.

Well, look in a world that craves convenience, sometimes the best ideas aren't the flashiest.

They're the ones you can boil in three minutes and eat with a fork.

Kind of jack like your BPPB.

My plastic bag, PB and Jack.

Hey, your back pocket peanut butter sandwich.

And that, my friends, is why instant ramen is the best idea yet.

Coming up on the next episode, the happiest place on earth, we're talking Disneyland.

Hey, if you have a product you're obsessed with, but you wish you knew the backstory, drop us a comment.

We'll look into it for you.

And don't forget to rate and review the pot.

Five stars helps us grow the show.

Follow The Best Idea Yet on the Wondery app, Amazon Music, or wherever you get your podcasts.

You can listen to every episode of The Best Idea Yet early and ad-free right now by joining Wondery Plus in the Wondery app or on Apple Podcasts.

Before you go, tell us about yourself by filling out a short survey at wondery.com slash survey.

The best idea yet is a production of Wondery, hosted by me, Nick Martel, and me, Jack Jack Kurvici-Kramer.

Our senior producers are Matt Beagle and Chris Gauthier.

Peter Arcuni is our additional senior producer.

Our senior managing producer is Nick Ryan, and Taylor Sniffin is our managing producer.

Our producer and researcher is H.

Conley.

This episode was written by Alex Burns.

We use many sources in our research, including The Untold History of Ramen, How Political Crisis in Japan Spawned a Global Food Craze by George Salt, and Fast Companies, The Surprising Origin of the Iconic Cup Noodles by Alyssa Friedman.

Sound design and mixing by C.J.

Drummeler.

Fact-checking by Brian Pognan.

Music supervision by Scott Velazquez and Jolena Garcia for Freesan Sync.

Our theme song is Got That Feeling Again by Blackalack.

Executive producers for Nick and Jack Studios are me, Nick Martel, and me, Jack Ravici-Kramer.

Executive producers for Wondery are Jenny Lauer-Beckman, Aaron O'Flaherty, and Marshall Louie.

How hard is it to kill a planet?

Maybe all it takes is a little drilling, some mining, and a whole lot of carbon pumped into the atmosphere.

When you see what's left, it starts to look like a crime scene.

Are we really safe?

Is our water safe?

You destroyed our town.

And crimes like that, they don't just happen.

We call things accidents.

There is no accident.

This was 100%

preventable.

They're the result of choices by people.

Ruthless oil tycoons, corrupt politicians, even organized crime.

These are the stories we need to be telling about our changing planet.

Stories of scams, murders, and cover-ups that are about us and the things we're doing to either protect the Earth or destroy it.

Follow Lawless Planet on the Wondry app or wherever you get your podcasts.

You can listen to new episodes of Lawless Planet early and ad-free right now by joining Wondery Plus in the Wondry app, Apple Podcasts, or Spotify.