I walk by Daitabashi Taishoken almost everyday on my way to and from work. It's one of those "mom and pop" ramen shops that only the locals know about and really care about. You'll never see this shop in a magazine nor will you ever have to wait for a seat to open. There is no hype. No fanfare. Just good ramen.
Over the faint echoes of Enka, all you hear is the sound of slurps. The locals come in and just blurt out what they're having before they sit down. There's no need for them to even look at the menu. If you want less noodles, blurt it out. If you want more salt, blurt it out.
I'm not sure about the lineage and it's relation to the other Taishoken's in Tokyo, but the yuzu in the soup and the scalding hot temperature is evidence of some type of connection.
These small shops inspire me. They remind me of what ramen really is. Someday...this is how I would want to retire...