Why Men-Eiji's Broth Is Strained Through Multiple Sieves

Sapporo's ramen scene has long been a magnet for culinary pilgrims, and the gyokai-tonkotsu style pioneered there has travelled further than most regional cuisines ever manage. In Melbourne's ramen-obsessed laneways, in the late-night queues of Sydney's CBD, and in the casual dining courts of Brisbane, diners talk about the broth the way wine drinkers talk about terroir. Men-Eiji's particular expression, born in Hokkaido and now recognised internationally, draws on a seafood and pork base that has been coaxed, rested, and finally clarified through a series of fine sieves. The result is something that feels closer to a consommé than to a heavy pork soup, even though the ingredients themselves remain unapologetically rich.

The decision to push broth through three, sometimes four, separate filters is not a marketing flourish. It is the practical expression of a philosophy shared by founder Jun Furukawa, who trained in Sapporo before opening the first Men-Eiji kitchen. Furukawa often explains that the broth carries everything the kitchen wants to say, and clarifying it through layered filtration is how the restaurant ensures the message arrives without grit. The technique is rarely discussed in English-language coverage, yet it is arguably the single biggest reason a bowl from either Men-Eiji Hiragishi BASE or Duck Ramen EIJI tastes different from a standard pork-bone bowl.

The Sapporo Tradition of Layered Broth

Gyokai-tonkotsu is one of the younger branches of the Sapporo ramen family tree, and its identity rests on a deliberate contradiction. The broth is built from pork bones, dried sardines, scallops, kombu, and sometimes niboshi, yet the desired finish is a liquid that feels almost weightless. Sapporo kitchens have approached this challenge in different ways over the decades, and Men-Eiji sits within a lineage that prizes elegance over sheer density. The broth is simmered at a controlled temperature, often for the better part of a working day, before any clarification begins.

The kitchen's pantry reflects that layered philosophy, and a few items carry more weight than others in the final bowl:

Furukawa has spoken about learning the rhythm of a Sapporo broth during long morning shifts, when the kitchen was still cool and the bones had not yet surrendered their collagen. That patience is now embedded in the menu at both locations, where the menu lists the soup as gyokai-tonkotsu without embellishment. For Australian travellers planning a Hokkaido winter trip, a visit to Hiragishi BASE often becomes the central reference point of their ramen memories, and the broth is almost always what they describe first on return to Melbourne or Adelaide.

What Each Sieve Actually Removes

Clarification through multiple sieves is less about straining out solids the eye can see and more about removing the cloudiness that escapes even a careful boil. The kitchen uses a sequence of mesh sizes, beginning with a coarse stainless steel screen that catches fragments of bone and aromatics, then progressing through finer nylon or stainless cloths, and finally passing the broth through a cloth fine enough to catch microscopic suspended fat and protein particles.

Sieve stage Mesh or cloth type Material removed Risk if omitted
First pass Coarse stainless steel Bone fragments, large herb stems, visible aromatics Gritty mouthfeel, unappetising sediment at bowl bottom
Second pass Medium stainless mesh Smaller herb pieces, broken-down cartilage Floating debris, cloudy appearance
Third pass Fine nylon or stainless cloth Suspended fat globules, fine protein particles Greasy film, dull flavour delivery
Final pass Microfibre or cheesecloth Microscopic cloudiness, residual impurities Loss of clarity, muted aroma in finished bowl

Each step is unhurried. The broth is allowed to settle between pours, and no kettle is tilted aggressively through the cloth. Furukawa often reminds apprentices that patience in sieving is what separates a professional bowl from a hurried one, and the kitchen's training notes reflect that approach.

The Texture Difference That Drinkers Notice

Taste lives partly in texture, and Men-Eiji's broth is engineered to be felt in the back of the throat rather than dragged across the palate. A properly sieved gyokai-tonkotsu has a silkiness that coats the noodles evenly without drowning them, and that same clarity allows the aroma of the seafood layer to rise first rather than be buried under pork fat. Diners at Duck Ramen EIJI, where duck shoyu and duck gyokai variants complement the signature pork, often remark that the broth feels lighter than they expect from such an apparently rich ingredient list.

The payoff is most obvious when the bowl is nearly finished. The last sip of a well-strained broth should taste almost as clean as the first, without the pasty residue that signals an unfinished clarification job. Australian ramen fans who first encountered this style during the Night Noodle Markets in Sydney, or at pop-up events staged in Perth and Brisbane, frequently comment that Men-Eiji's bowl taught them what a refined broth could feel like. For many of them, the experience reset their expectations of what a ramen shop could deliver.

Time, Labour, and the Cost of Patience

Each stage of sieving adds minutes to the kitchen's workflow, and when multiplied across hundreds of bowls a day, those minutes become hours. The first pass alone can require a kettle to be lifted and poured slowly to avoid pushing sediment through the mesh. The final pass through cloth is even slower, and cloths are rotated, washed, and inspected between cycles to prevent any residual build-up from contaminating the next batch.

The economic consequences of this discipline show up in the price of a bowl. Fans who queue at either Sapporo location, or who follow the brand's international pop-ups, often note that Men-Eiji's pricing sits at the higher end of the casual ramen market. Few grumble, because the work is visible in the finished product. For Australian diners used to the small-margin model of suburban Asian eateries in suburbs like Chatswood or Box Hill, the willingness to pay for kitchen labour feels familiar rather than foreign, and it aligns with the country's broader embrace of chef-driven Asian concepts.

How Australian Ramen Lovers Respond

The Australian market has its own rhythms, and they have shaped how Men-Eiji's story is received locally. Brunch culture in Sydney and Melbourne has trained diners to seek out layered, deliberate cooking, and ramen fits that sensibility more comfortably than it once did. A bowl that tastes as carefully composed as a tasting menu course now feels at home in the same dining calendar as a long Saturday lunch.

Patterns in conversation and online reviews tend to repeat themselves, and a few observations come up again and again:

The last point matters, because Australia has developed a strong network of travellers who treat Japan as a regular culinary pilgrimage rather than a once-in-a-decade trip. Sapporo in winter, with its snow festivals and steaming bowls, has become a recurring feature of those journeys, and Men-Eiji is increasingly mentioned alongside the city's other ramen landmarks.

The Michelin Recognition and What It Validates

A Michelin Bib Gourmand is awarded to kitchens that deliver quality cooking at moderate prices, and the recognition for Men-Eiji acknowledges the depth of work behind the broth rather than the glamour of the dining room. The kitchen is compact, the menu is focused, and the broth does the heavy lifting in any review or critic's notebook. Furukawa has described the award as confirmation that patience in the kitchen is noticed by diners, even when it is invisible in the finished bowl.

For readers curious about how such recognition reshapes a small ramen operation, the impact of Michelin recognition on a small ramen shop explores the broader picture. The clarification work, the long mornings, and the careful rotation of sieves all sit beneath that public moment, and they continue regardless of which guidebook is paying attention.

The same philosophy carries into the toppings work at the Duck Ramen EIJI menu, where the protein and aromatics are treated with equal rigour. Anyone researching the differences between the two Sapporo branches will find that Duck Ramen EIJI's distinctive toppings extend the broth-first approach into the rest of the bowl, and a closer look at that menu explains why the brand reads as a single, coherent idea rather than two unrelated kitchens.

A visit to either branch is best planned around the broth. Arrive when the kitchen has had time to settle into the day's rhythm, order the signature bowl, and finish it slowly. The sieves have already done their work; the rest is up to you.