Tokyo has lost one of its oldest, most atmospheric culinary landmarks.
Kanda Yabu Soba was more than just a noodle restaurant, it was a tangible connection to the city's past, to a way of living that evolved centuries back in the narrow crowded streets of Edo.
Established 133 years ago, not long after the city was renamed, its handsome old premises (rebuilt after the Great Kanto Earthquake of 1923) survived the firebombs of war and the wrecking balls of the developers. Last night, however, the timber buildings went up in flames.
Yabu Soba didn't serve the "best" or "tastiest" soba in the city. It wasn't hip and was never a foodie hangout. Quite the opposite, in fact: it was fusty and old-fashioned, patronized mostly by senior citizens, provincial tourists and nostalgics.
But it was unique, an institution, a shrine to the humble buckwheat noodle. It was a living, breathing repository to a tradition that is now even closer to being lost to history.
My blog posts here and here are now my elegy.
UPDATE 1: This was the sad sight when I went down there a month or so later…
UPDATE 2: And this was on New Year Eve, the date when it would usually have been packed out with customers coming for their year-end toshi-koshi soba...
UPDATE 3: Kanda Yabu Soba is back. The newly rebuilt restaurant reopened for business on October 20 (2014). It's not the same – but how could it be?
Some people might find Narutomi a bit too stark and functional. There's no decoration to speak of, just the counter overlooking the pristine, shiny kitchen...
And nothing at all in the main dining area: just the tables and stools, a few coat hangers and those lampshades overhead...
So after you have sipped your sake and nibbled your snacks, it all comes down to the noodles. And the tempura. Both are excellent indeed.
This is the hotate-ten: a single sashimi-quality scallop lightly cooked whole and sliced into two: the interior is still firm and rare, the outside tender and white, encased in a thin light layer of batter... It comes with a selection of vegetables. Highly recommended.
But so is the gobo-ten — burdock cut into chunky strips with plenty of fibrous texture. Just sprinkle with a little of the sea salt. This one is intended to go with sake, rather than soba.
And then there are the seasonal specials. Currently it's shirako (milt) of fugu pufferfish. But soon there will be spring sansai wild herbs and takenoko bamboo shoots to look forward to.
Don't get the wrong idea: the soba is certainly not an afterthought. It's just that you don't order it until you're done with your nibbling and sipping. Narutomi-san prepares it from scratch, grinding and sifting the grain, then making the dough, rolling it out and cutting it into delicate noodles.
Most people go for the cold seiro soba, served with a dip on the side — with a few shreds of fine-sliced negi and a dab of wasabi the only extra seasoning. It's all you need, though: this is soba with plenty of buckwheat flavour.
Narutomi-san is is just as happy to serve hot kake soba — in a rich, warming broth. Needless to say he is as perfectionist about this as everything else on the menu. He's even printed up a little information card* placed on the table, in which he explains the absolute optimum temperature for kake-soba. Which is 85-86 degrees C.
If after this you're still a bit hungry, put in an order for some soba-gaki. Narutomi-san whips up his gaki nice and light, smooth and creamy, topped with a cone of fresh grated wasabi. Delicate. Subtle. Earthy. Piquant. Deep.
And finally a jug of soba-yu, thick and milky-white, so good: there's no better way to round off the meal.
And, because the address, phone number and website are currently missing from the Japan Times online version of my column, here are the details:
* Narutomi-san has not been a soba artisan all his life; in fact, for two decades he worked in publishing, which may account for his sense of design — not just the restaurant but also his web site — and the informative leaflets he displays on the tables.
Certainly you can drop into Te-uchi Soba Narutomi for a quick meal of the excellent ju-wari (100 percent buckwheat) noodles. And pair it with the delicate tempura too.
But there's a great selection of sake and side dishes too, which may tempt you to linger a bit longer. Starting with the yakimiso...
Narutomi-san blends two kinds of miso ― a light-colored koji miso and a richer rice miso ― with grains of buckwheat, giving it extra crunch, texture and nutty flavour. He spreads this mix over a dark ceramic saucer that is slightly concave, then grills it until it's lightly browned and starting to crisp around the rim. Impossible to stop nibbling on.
And so is the uni tsukudani. It's really good with beer. It goes even better with sake.
It's made by lightly salting and drying the urchin until the texture is nice and firm, perfect as a sake snack. Or beer.
The anago nikogori (eel in its own aspic gel) is definitely worth trying: light and delicate but with plenty of umami savour.
On a cold evening, the yu-dofu ankake is just the ticket. The scoops of tofu are first heated up in dashi, then thickened with kuzu starch and served with a generous blob of grated ginger.
The kamo-nuki is another cold-weather favourite. Think of it as kamo-nanban soba, without the soba ― and with the addition of those oblong slices of golden-yellow awa-fu gluten dumpling. There's some nice yuzu perfume coming up out of that steaming bowl.
Dashi-maki tamago is another traditional sobaya standard. Here it comes in a substantial portion big enought to share between two (or more). Narutomi-san says it doesn't fluff up enough if he makes it with any less than four eggs.
It's also curiously under-seasoned. But it does come with shoyu on the side, which you drizzle onto that mound of grated daikon.
One small thing that gives Narutomi an edge is the tableware, which is mostly pottery, though also some glass or lacquer.
The beer is served in ceramic tumblers. And you get to choose what choko you want to drink your sake out of. A nice touch.
I will put up another post shortly with more about Narutomi-san and his soba. For the moment, here is some more (in Japanese) about that excellent and highly unusual uni tsukudani...
And because the address, phone number and website are currently missing from the Japan Times online version of my column, here are the details:
Well, Mardi Gras went fast, leaving behind nothing but pancake memories...
And now it's Ash Wednesday, already. Here's just the right pizza to mark the occasion...
My first guess was that squid ink had been used to give it that strong black colour. But it turned out to be ash -- takesumi (bamboo ash), in fact.
Score another one for the folks at Paradise Alley, the little bakery tucked in next to the farmers' market in Kamakura.
Paradise Alley is on the Food File map here.
And, just the other day, I even came across takesumi ash being used in a dessert — or rather I found this photo by drtomostyle...
Takesumi roll cake: brilllant!
Food writer and restaurant reviewer for the Japan Times contact: foodfile (at) me (dot) com
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