Masamoto Ueda in Come Back Anytime (DOC NYC)

An uplifting film that follows a local elder with a passion (like Iris, Bill Cunningham: New York, or the cohorts in The Truffle Hunters), Come Back Anytime centers on Masamoto Ueda and his ramen noodle bar in Tokyo. The documentary had its New York City premiere in the international competition of DOC NYC, and is available on its digital platform until November 28.

In the opening scenes, we watch the veteran chef start the day prepping for his menu—washing, cutting, boiling, and frying. Broth is poured into a wok, ginger is scraped on a special grater, a knife is honed, Chinese cabbage is chopped. He uses his special technique to cook and slice tender chashu (braised pork) to top a favorite dish.

A brisk montage of bowls of ramen being served signify the numbers of patrons who enjoy the fare. Like many documentaries, Come Back Anytime was practically created in the editing room, and the work here is remarkable, a feat for Tokyo-based, first-time nonfiction director John Daschbach, who also provides the crisp cinematography. And there is no lack of mouthwatering close-ups that will have audiences anticipating their next meal.

Ueda’s trajectory was not always smooth. A false start in the nightclub business and wayward activities, such as gambling on baseball, put a strain on the early days of marriage to his high school sweetheart. In 1979, he accepted a space to open a restaurant from his father-in-law, who presumably wanted to help him to mature and become a solid provider. The marriage happily endured, and wife Kazuko is now branching out with her own interest in painting after a lifetime of partnering with her husband and raising children.

Named Bizentei, the eatery was a laboratory for Ueda to develop custom recipes for his now-famous soups, praised for their “gentle” taste and unique flavors, all based on traditional dishes. When the original location was scheduled for demolition, the restaurant moved into a tiny space in a low-key part of Chiyoda, the city’s central political and business district.

Many loyal customers indicate the number of years they have been coming: 4, 10, 17, 20, or more. The camaraderie at the counter is a Cheers–like environment, where the regulars often transition from work to home. Drinks and snacks were eventually added to the simple menu to extend their stay. One die-hard fan, Takashi Tanaka, a musician and the host of a popular Japanese ramen–themed TV program, claims to eat 500–600 bowls of ramen per year, and wrote a book on the subject that included Ueda. (He reports that the soy-based soup originated in Tokyo, the salt-based one in China.) Another customer found the space welcoming to process her grief among friends, and two got together in a matchmaking scheme orchestrated by the master chef.

The film covers a year in the life of Bizentei, structured around the seasons as they yield fresh produce. Some raw ingredients are procured from local farmers or foraged in the mountains or forests on weekend expeditions. While most of the movie is set in the tiny ramen bar, with a jazzy score augmenting the atmosphere, its world opens up to the picturesque landscapes of Japan as Ueda and his suppliers and friends—including some customers—join him in digging for wild yams or gathering pears. Here, classical music heightens the expansive outdoors.

Come Back Anytime provides a glimpse into Japanese food, but also its culture and aesthetics. The pleasures of the film include not just anecdotes by devoted customers and up-close cooking processes but, surprisingly, the tools of the trade. There’s an old dumpling griddle to sear the gyoza (Japanese pot stickers), a huge wooden mallet to pound mochi (glutinous rice), and an outsized immersion blender for mixing contents in a pot. Special gloves and boots are used for gardening and foraging.

Ueda’s work ethic and stamina are an inspiration. Convivial yet unpretentious, his personality is as much a part of his success as the comfort food he provides. Come Back Anytime is endearing and casual, unlike the oft compared Jiro Dreams of Sushi, another Japanese foodie film that’s more a slick take on a fastidious chef’s pricey meals.

“I’m descending the mountain, but I’m still working,” says Ueda, who has no successor and can see the end of the road. “When it’s over, it’s over.” The restaurant has been going strong for 30 years. (It closed for just a few weeks at the beginning of the Covid-19 pandemic.) The film’s website provides a map for visitors to locate the eatery, where a basic bowl of ramen soup costs about $7.