Of Noodles...

In this region of Japan, soba is no small matter. People take the noodle-- which, depending on location and maker, ranges in flavor, texture, color, and virtually every other characteristic possible for noodles-- very seriously. Put simply, as soba is a beautifully simple dish, soba are noodles made from buckwheat flour. Compared to western style pasta, the taste of soba (which varies depending on many things, including quality) is sweeter and richer. Well-prepared soba, even without any sort of accompanying side dish, has a subtle woody flavor reminiscent, to a silly Westerner, of bamboo groves and the deeply sweet smell of freshly turned earth. In short, even bad soba (of which I have had plenty) is a treat. Soba is served both hot and cold. Generally, hot soba comes in a broth with accompanying vegetables or meats. Cold soba, mounded lovingly onto a bamboo tray, is complemented by a special dipping sauce and things like toasted nori, tororo (slimy grated yam), daikon, or natto. When eating both hot and cold soba, you slurp your noodles happily, glad that you decided against wearing a white dress to a noodle house (the spatters of tsuyu take a while to wash out).

Hot and cold soba dishes both have their disciples. However, since I haven’t been here too long, I haven’t aligned myself with either camp. Honestly, both serve their purpose. On a hot day, zaru soba restores energy lost to the damp oven that is Japan. However, after a rainy walk through Kyoto, a dish of nishin soba warms and resuscitates. Honestly, I don’t think I could choose between the two (though I would probably give it to hot soba, as the brothy noodles are more fun to slurp).

As a cheap student on a limited budget, I have resisted the tempting (and costly) varieties that promise enlightenment in the form of noodles piled on a bamboo tray. For instance, a local omiyage shop offers cha soba-- tea flavored soba. While I would try these, the cost dismays me, and I stick to cheaper varieties. In restaurants, I have had the pleasure of a variety of cheap soba dishes. My favorite has been, easily, nishin soba. Despite a brutal rainstorm, I had spent the morning and early afternoon meandering around Kyoto. Lunchtime approached, and I had long since decided that I really did not want any ramen. (When made well, ramen is delicious. However, many establishments make weak broths and weaker noodles flavored with bland chunks of animal lard. Beware unless you really, really like ramen in all shapes and forms.) I chanced upon a small soba house, small, but lovingly maintained. I really just wanted something warming and not-quite-hearty, so I settled on nishin soba. Nishin is a sweet and rich herring that I can’t really compare to any sort of fish in the United States. It was served floating atop a light broth and a nest of delicate sarashina soba (very thin soba made from refined buckwheat). Unsurprisingly, it was delicious. The Japanese have truly mastered sweet-salty.

One of the best things about soba is that it is intimately connected with Japanese folklore. For instance, both kitsune and tanuki have their own types of soba dishes. Depending on whether your in Kansai or Kanto, the dishes vary, however, they involve deep-fried tofu and tempura batter respectively. I have had the pleasure of kitsune soba, but I will have to seek out tanuki/haikara soba before I leave. I am not a huge fan of fried foods (takoyaki and okonomiyaki aside), but the promise of bits of tenkasu left by a tanuki is a little hard for me to resist…

A point of interest before pictures...

啜り込む (susurikomu)- to slurp something noisily


Nishin Soba


Happiness in a bowl.


My inexpertly made mori soba.

Some Kyoto pictures involving monkeys, kitties, and, in honor of soba, kitsune...







(Finally, I urge you to do your own wikipedia hunt in search of the emperor who, after his retirement, only wanted noodles... it's an interesting little piece of Japanese food history.)