It was the bone marrow. Honestly, if you lived in Queens or followed the New York food scene between 2014 and 2020, you knew that Mu Ramen Long Island City wasn't just another noodle shop. It was a pilgrimage. People would trek out to Jackson Avenue, standing in lines that defied logic, just for a bowl of soup that Per Se alum Joshua Smookler and his wife Heidy had perfected. It started in a bagel shop. A literal pop-up in a bagel store. Then it became a brick-and-mortar legend that redefined what Long Island City could be as a culinary destination.
But then, it vanished.
When we talk about the legacy of Mu Ramen Long Island City, we’re talking about a specific moment in New York dining. It was a time when the "refined ramen" movement was hitting its stride, moving away from the salt-bomb instant packets of our college years and into the realm of Michelin-level technique. Smookler didn't just boil some bones; he applied classical French training to Japanese traditions. The result was a menu that felt both incredibly fancy and deeply comforting.
The Broth That Changed Everything
The signature Mu Ramen—the namesake dish—was a revelation. While most places were leaning hard into the creamy, fatty pork-based Tonkotsu, Mu went a different route. They used an ox-tail and bone marrow base. It was rich, sure, but it had this clarity of flavor that felt more like a high-end consommé than a heavy stew. You’d get these half-moons of brisket, a perfectly jammy egg, and those noodles that had just the right amount of "alkaline snap."
People often ask what made that specific location so special. Was it the LIC air? Probably not. It was the grit. The restaurant sat in a neighborhood that was rapidly transforming from industrial warehouses into glass towers. Mu Ramen felt like the bridge between those two worlds. It had a dark, moody interior with communal seating that forced you to get cozy with strangers while you slurped down $20 bowls of soup.
Not Just a Noodle House
If you only went there for the ramen, you were doing it wrong. I'm serious. The appetizers were arguably the stars of the show. Specifically, the U&I. This was a dish of sea urchin (uni) and spicy tuna served over high-quality sushi rice with roasted nori. It was expensive. It was indulgent. It was exactly why people kept coming back.
- The fried chicken was another sleeper hit.
- They used a dry-fry method that kept the skin glass-shattering crisp.
- The foie gras mapo tofu? A total chaotic masterpiece of flavors.
Most ramen spots focus on high turnover. Get 'em in, get 'em out. Mu Ramen felt different. It felt like a chef’s table experience masquerading as a casual eatery. Joshua Smookler was often right there, obsessive about the temperature of the bowls and the precise thickness of the chashu. This obsession is what earned them a New York Times two-star review and a permanent spot on every "Best Ramen in NYC" list for half a decade.
The Reality of the Long Island City Food Scene
Long Island City is a tough neighborhood for restaurants. Rents are sky-high, and the competition is fierce. When Mu Ramen Long Island City finally closed its doors in late 2020, it left a massive hole in the local ecosystem. Some blamed the pandemic—which certainly didn't help—but there were also whispers about the challenges of maintaining such a high-labor menu in a shifting economy.
The Smooklers eventually moved their talents elsewhere, including a venture in the North Fork of Long Island, but for the LIC faithful, nothing has quite replaced that specific vibe. You can find great ramen in the city, obviously. Ichiran is okay for a quick fix, and Ippudo is a classic, but they lack that "soul" that comes from a chef-owner being physically present in the kitchen every single night.
Why the Hype Persists
You still see Mu Ramen mentioned on Reddit threads and food forums today. Why? Because it represented a peak. It was a time when you could get world-class food in a neighborhood that still felt a little bit "undiscovered." It wasn't a chain. It wasn't a corporate concept backed by venture capital. It was a husband and wife trying to make the best possible version of a dish they loved.
There’s a lesson there for anyone looking for the next great spot. Look for the places that started in a bagel shop. Look for the chefs who aren't afraid to put bone marrow in a ramen bowl. The "Mu style" was about bravery in the kitchen. They didn't cater to what people expected ramen to be; they told us what it could be.
What to Do If You're Looking for That Mu Ramen Vibe Now
Since the original LIC location is gone, you’re probably wondering where to get your fix. Honestly, it's hard to replicate. However, if you want to find the spirit of what made Mu Ramen great, you have to look for "New Wave" ramen shops that prioritize non-traditional broths.
Look for places doing Tori Paitan (creamy chicken broth) or those experimenting with seafood-heavy bases. Places like Totto Ramen or Tonchin in Manhattan carry some of that same dedication to craft, even if the flavor profiles are different. If you're stuck in Queens, Tamashii Ramen offers a solid, soul-warming bowl, though it's a bit more traditional than Smookler's experimental style.
- Check for Chef Migrations: Keep an eye on where former Mu Ramen kitchen staff end up. Often, the DNA of a great restaurant lives on in the sous chefs who eventually open their own spots.
- Explore LIC’s New Guard: Long Island City hasn't stopped being a food hub. Check out the smaller stalls in the local food halls; that's where the next "pop-up in a bagel shop" is likely hiding.
- Learn the Broth: If you're a home cook, try roasting your bones before boiling them for stock. That deep, caramelized flavor was the secret to the Mu signature.
The legacy of Mu Ramen Long Island City isn't just about the food. It's about the reminder that New York dining is at its best when it's personal, slightly inconvenient, and unapologetically bold. It changed the way we think about a simple bowl of noodles, and for that, it’ll always be a part of Queens' culinary history.
To truly honor the memory of a place like Mu, stop settling for "good enough" takeout. Seek out the chefs who are taking risks. Find the person who is obsessing over the pH level of their noodle water or the aging process of their miso. Those are the places that will become the next legends. If you find yourself in Long Island City today, take a walk down Jackson Ave. The sign might be gone, but the impact that tiny kitchen had on the city’s palate is still very much alive.
Next Steps for the Foodie Traveler
If you're planning a food tour of Long Island City today, start at the waterfront for the views, but head inland for the eats. Look for the industrial pockets where the rent is still just low enough for a genius to start something weird. Skip the big-name chains near the subway hubs and find the independent shops where the owner is the one taking your order. That is where the ghost of Mu Ramen lives on.