Casa Ramen Super — Restaurant in Milan

I don't like to be extreme and I don't write many reviews, but this was the worst experience I have ever had in my life in a restaurant. It's not about a waiter having a rough day, it's about being treated like rubbish from the chef and owner of a restaurant that sells supposedly good overpriced Ramen (I guess I will never know), and who thinks he is more important than the Pope. That is - with all due respect since I love Ramen - a type of meal prepared in advance in big batches, which intrinsically hints at good hearted conviviality, rather than Michelin stars.

An average winter Tuesday night. We initially had a reservation for a party of 6, we then called to say that there would have been 8 of us, and we eventually showed up in 9 (one of us we just met on the way, and was just keeping us company). "We" were not a bunch of homeless, but lawyers, engineers, and other respectful and respectable professionals in our 30s, well behaved and nicely dressed.

They split us within the same small room: 6 sitting at a dining table, the other 3 on some nearby footstools overlooking the kitchen. All perfectly fine considering the last minute reservation amendment. The three people on the footstools (I was one of them) dared to turn around by 180 degrees, and dared to start chatting with our friends on the table nearby [please note that: i) there were no othere tables close to us; ii) it was 10.30pm and no new customers would have come after us; iii) most other tables had already done with their dinners]. One out of the 9 people announced that she wouldn't order any meal, and in response she was asked to leave by a waitress. She said that if required she would have ordered drinks instead, but nope: she was renewed the invitation to leave. I then thought "there must be a mistake, let me talk to the manager, I am sure he will be glad to have all of us". The manager was indeed the owner of the place, and before I could open my mouth he wore his most disgusted face and literally told me: "go find a place that is more suitable to PEOPLE LIKE YOU, go to a pub or STUFF LIKE THAT"; "This is not how to behave in a CLASSY RESTAURANT LIKE THIS"; "I don't want the likes of you IN MY HOUSE". I thought that we were in a public place, but apparently we didn't notice that we were in his own apartment.

I reminded him that cooking should be an act of love towards your neighbor, catering should be about caring for the customer, not about leveraging some Instagram frenzy that pushes hoards of clueless followers towards your door in order to make some more money out of the 6 tiny tables that fit in "his house". Therefore, while instantaneously leaving the place I couldn't help but wish him bankruptcy, especially considering tough times many of his homologues were having after 2 years of pandemic. He responded by subtly threatening "be sure that I will remember this".

P.s.: I like tatoos, but if this guy cares so much about etiquette, he should probably know that his heavily tatooed forearms would have little place serving in a traditional Japanese restaurant, maybe they would just be useful tools to mop the floors once...

Great food, staff is young and not very attentive to the customers in general, they are often distracted and like to talk among themselves instead of focusing on the service. We go here often because we live nearby, and today was the apex that confirmed it what before was a minor annoyance that didn't bother us too much. Hard to say it for a place we love and visit often but I was 'super' disappointed ;). Walked in on rainy Sunday at 22:12 thinking of taking away for two (not sure if it's even an option), didn't even get to say what I was there for, that I was slammed with kitchen is closed we are very sorry. Fair enough only few tables had guests but I was sent away anyways. When I pointed to the opening times till 23:00 they said that the restaurant is open till then but the kitchen is closed before.. 45+ minutes before closing time? Seems excessive or an excuse to go...

Arriviamo ieri sera, tavolo prenotato per 8 persone alle 22, si aggiunge un'amica all'ultimo che è passata a salutarci. Locale pieno all'80%, sembra che molti clienti abbiano già consumato.

Ci fanno accomodare in un tavolo da 6 nella saletta posteriore, e le altre tre persone su degli sgabelli a lato del tavolo, fronte bancone (?). Non ci lamentiamo, abbiamo chiamato giusto mezz'ora prima per confermare il numero di commensali, non ci hanno detto che saremmo stati su due tavoli ma conosciamo il posto, ci siamo già stati, ne apprezziamo la cucina, è tardi, abbiamo fame e va bene così. Alcuni del tavolo ruotano la sedia per non dare le spalle agli altri 3. Mostriamo i green pass, ordiniamo dell'acqua e aspettiamo i menù. Non appena l'amica aggiunta dice che non mangerà, prima la cameriera e poi lo chef, con toni alquanto sgarbati, le fanno notare che mangiare è obbligatorio. Lei chiede se può ordinare del vino, che prenderà un dolce alla fine assieme a tutti, ma niente. La invitano ad andarsene. Fatto notare gentilmente allo chef che la cosa non ha senso, in quanto era impossibile che il suo posto potesse essere riutilizzato vista l'ora e il fatto che fosse al bancone in mezzo al nostro gruppo, ci vengono spiattellate queste testuali parole (ipotizziamo per via delle cravatte un po' sciolte e il trucco delle ragazze non proprio impeccabile dopo una giornata di lavoro): "Andate in un posto più consono a voi, questo è un ristorante e non un pub, se venite qui siete a casa nostra e rispettate le nostre regole, già avete spostato le sedie e occupato la sala intera e non va bene". Sbigottiti, decidiamo di alzare tutti quanti i tacchi e ci accingiamo a pagare l'acqua che abbiamo ordinato. Lo chef rifiuta e ci invita alla porta.

Cara Casa (Mai Più) Ramen Super: avrete fatto i soldi, crederete di fare il ramen migliore di Milano, avrete passato un brutto periodo per la pandemia, avrete avuto una brutta giornata. Nessun problema, ma visto che nessun locale al mondo aveva mai trattato nessuno dei 9 commensali come siamo stati trattati noi ieri sera (e non è che usciamo a mangiare dall'altroieri, siamo tutt'ora basiti), non ci...