Salmon Mushroom Ramen
The Pacific Northwest is basically obsessed with salmon and mushrooms, so throwing them into ramen feels like destiny. You get earthy broth that tastes like rain-soaked forest trails, salmon that flakes apart like it’s tired of swimming, and noodles that bring it all together in a warm hug. Dill and lemon keep it from getting too heavy, like a breeze cutting through mist. It’s ramen that feels both wild and grounded, and honestly, like it should be eaten near a campfire.
Forest floor whispers—river’s gift rests on warm broth—dill and steam entwine.
Let Me Tell You...
The broth started with mushrooms hissing in butter, releasing that earthy perfume that smells like wet forest trails.
I dumped in garlic and onion, let it all soften, then drowned it in broth.
It simmered like it had nowhere to be, picking up that deep woodsy flavor only mushrooms know how to give.
The noodles sat nearby, waiting to slide in, while the salmon seared on a skillet, skin popping like a campfire log.
The smell was part forest, part coastline, and all appetite.
That’s where the crunch lives.
When I finally dropped the salmon into the broth, it flaked like it was surrendering.
The noodles twisted around mushrooms, dill floated like green confetti, and lemon juice hit sharp against the richness.
It was messy in a good way, broth spilling over chopsticks, steam fogging up the window.
I swear the whole room smelled like a hike in the rain that somehow ended at a Japanese noodle shop.
A friend came over halfway through, wrinkled their nose at the idea of dill in ramen.
Then they ate two bowls and didn’t complain again.
Dill has this weird way of making heavy things feel lighter, like a joke told at the right time.
It worked here, balancing salmon’s richness and mushrooms’ depth, keeping the bowl from feeling too serious.
Like a forest trail with a river suddenly glinting through the trees.
Heat kills the brightness, and you want that zing fresh.
By the end, I wasn’t sure if I’d cooked ramen or bottled the Pacific Northwest. It was hearty without dragging me down, cozy without knocking me out, and flavorful enough to remember the next day.
Ramen doesn’t always have to come from tradition.
Sometimes it comes from rivers and forests and a little dill on top.
Ingredients
- 2 salmon fillets (about 6 oz each), skin-on
- 2 bricks ramen noodles (about 8 oz dry)
- 1 tbsp butter
- 1 tbsp olive oil
- 1 medium onion, diced
- 3 cloves garlic, minced
- 8 oz cremini or wild mushrooms, sliced
- 4 cups chicken or vegetable broth
- 1 tbsp soy sauce
- Juice of 1 lemon (plus wedges for serving)
- 2 tbsp fresh dill, chopped (plus more for garnish)
- Salt and black pepper to taste
Preparation
- Heat butter and olive oil in a large pot over medium heat.
- Add onion and garlic; sauté 5 minutes until softened.
- Add mushrooms and cook until they release liquid and brown, about 7 minutes.
- Pour in broth and soy sauce; bring to a simmer for 10 minutes.
- Meanwhile, season salmon with salt and pepper; sear skin-side down in a skillet 4–5 minutes, then flip and cook 2–3 minutes more until just cooked through.
- Cook ramen noodles separately in boiling water for 3 minutes; drain.
- Divide noodles into bowls, ladle mushroom broth over top.
- Place seared salmon on noodles, flake slightly with a fork.
- Finish with lemon juice, dill, and optional toppings.
Chef's Tips
- Sear salmon skin-side down for crispy texture and deep flavor.
- Add dill at the end to keep it fresh and bright.
- Variation: Swap salmon for smoked trout for an even earthier version.
Serving Suggestion
Serve in rustic bowls with extra dill sprigs and lemon wedges, evoking a misty forest meal by the river.