December 11, 2019

I went to a party last night in Koenji.  I thought it was going to be at a small izakaya run by someone I know, but I wasn’t sure as the party was going to have soba and Yo-chan’s place doesn’t serve soba.  I went with my friend Fu-chan who usually goes to the Nihonbashi Soba Club events with me.  I was a bit surprised when she led me up some stairs above some sort of Thai/Vietnam/Myanmar restaurant to a bar where we found an unlocked door but no one inside.  Back down the stairs we went to another nearby bar owned by the same person, someone who apparently owns several similar places along the covered alleyway.  We sat down and ordered beers while we waited for Seiko, the woman who runs the upstairs bar, to show up.  Another friend, Piro-chan, arrived first, followed soon by Seiko san who went behind the bar and brought out a heavy looking box filled with soba flour.  She pulled out several 500 gram bags of 2-8 soba (ni hachi soba, a mix of 20% wheat flour and 80% soba) and a couple bags of uchi-ko, the soba flour used to dust work surfaces, and then took off.  Hmmm, I thought to myself.  I was starting to look like we might be making soba, not just eating it.

The three of us finished our beers and then walked back around the corner to the first place we went to.  Before I could drink a small glass of beer the soba making gear appeared; a medium sized kneading bowl, a cutting board and guide, and a nice big soba knife.  Then everyone—and by this time that meant about seven other people—pointed to me and told me to get started.

I didn’t have my soba apron along but I did at least have a tenugui in my pocket to cover my head with.  I put it on, took off my outer shirts, washed my hands, and then cut open a bag of soba mix.  Someone measured 250 ml of water for me, and I was ready to go.

I am pretty good at the first step of making soba, the kneading.  The next step, forming a cone by folding one end over a bit at a time while rolling the rest of it to a point, is usually the most difficult for me, but this time I somehow managed to do it pretty much as it is supposed to be done.  Next comes flattening the dough into a disc (no problem), then rolling it thin while maintaining a circular shape (again, no problem).  The next steps, turning the circle into a square and then rolling thin I did without any trouble, although the dough was getting a bit dried out from the dry heat in the room which led to a couple small tears.  Next was the final folding, and then to the cutting board.  Luckily, I had my reading glasses with me.  Otherwise my noodles might be who knows what thickness.  The result: my best batch ever, and first time doing it solo, without a sensei to ask for help.

Fu-chan went next.  She has made noodles enough times to have the techniques down.  But I did have to remind her of a couple small things.  Her noodles also turned out good, although she cut hers a bit thinner than I did mine.  When everyone started asking me to make another batch I said no, then asked if anyone else wanted to give it a try.  If no one had said “yes” I would have done a second batch.  But one young lady wanted to try, so we got her set up to do it.  Our hostess, Seiko san, got her started.  Unfortunately, a bit too much water was added to the mix which resulted in a very sticky, almost gummy texture.  I added some extra uchi-ko, and it got better.  Then I walked her through the steps to make soba, doing about half of it myself.

The result was okay soba.  The taste was pretty much the same as the other batches, although people said mine was the best tasting.  What was special for me, though, was being called a soba “sensei” by everyone, something I thought might never happen.

This Saturday will be our final Nihonbashi Soba Club meeting of the year.  Let’s hope I can duplicate my results.