Damn I Hate Being Soba: a Buckwheat Ballad in the Kansai Region

“Damn I hate being sober soba, I’m a smoker, Fredo a drinker, Tadoe off molly water.” – Chicago Drill rapper Chief Keef 

I don’t actually hate soba. I love it. However, one of my biggest regrets during my time in Japan, other than waking up naked in the hallway of my hotel in Tokyo (I wish I was making that up), was that I didn’t eat more soba. A favorite YouTube channel of mine, ‘Japan Eat’, declared soba his favorite noodle dish of them all – and I feel as though I’ve let him down.

I’m not entirely sure why I was so soba-deficient during my three months in Osaka (and various other parts of Japan) but it’s something I need to improve on for my second stint (I’m aiming for 2024). The soba that I did eat was divine. I’m traditionally more of a cold noodle guy (love me my tsukemen), so soba noodles are right up my alley. I fully admit I dropped the ball on this one. Mea culpa. 

This post is just a little walkthrough about soba noodles and why you should eat more soba and actively seek out soba restaurants in Japan. I’ll also walk through two soba restaurants that stood out in particular to me, one in Osaka (right next door to me at Osaka Castle) and one in Kyoto.

Knuck if You Buck-wheat

Soba noodles are thin buckwheat noodles that are typically rinsed and chilled with cold water, and either served as is, cold, or in a hot broth. Most buckwheat in Japan is actually produced and harvested in Hokkaido (the north of Japan). They are gluten-free, less calorie-dense than traditional pasta, and shown to have positive effects on reducing blood sugar and inflammation. Health experts also tout the acid amino balance of buckwheat and recommend consumption for those with amino acid deficiencies. 

When I first showed up at ramen shops in Japan, I was very confused because it wasn’t uncommon to see them referred to as ‘chuka soba’ (or mazesoba for soupless ramen dishes). This simply means ‘Chinese noodles’ and does not mean that you’ll be receiving a plate of buckwheat noodles.

I’m still a soba novice (in the grand scheme of things) so won’t even try and delve into the countless types of soba that exist. However, there are two schools of soba: hot and cold soba dishes. This article features one of each: Nishin soba (Pacific herring soba) and mori soba (chilled noodles laid on a basket). 

A fun fact about soba, having originated in the Edo period of Japan (1603-1868), soba noodles used to be commonly transported by bicycle couriers, which actually provoked the ire of the Tokyo Police department – as couriers were stacking mountains of soba bowls on their shoulders and riding through the streets, ultimately posing a danger to traffic. 

Pale Ale Travel Tip: If you’ve read my guide to 21 days of ramen in Osaka, then you know that I’m all about ramen (especially tsukemen). Let’s hope in the future I can put together an equally in-depth guide on soba in Osaka or the Kansai region!

Menbou Miyashi: Nishin Soba (Kyoto)

• Restaurant: Menbou Miyashi
• Address: 288-2 Minamikurumayacho, Nakagyo Ward, Kyoto, 604-8022, Japan

I think as a New England boy, my love for small forage fish is in my DNA. I have fond memories as a child of trying to trap seagulls and bunnies at the beach on the Cape (with a poorly shoveled hole in the sand and blanket – don’t worry, not in a John Wayne Gacy as a kid type of way), curling up with a Penguin Illustrated Classic (Treasure Island for the win) in our little cottage with no television, and finishing each beach day off at a seafood shack to scarf down half my bodyweight in mussels, fried clams, and Atlantic herring.

So, when I posted up in Kyoto for a second short stint (of my combined three-plus weeks), you know I was intrigued when a patron at one of my frequented izakayas recommended ‘Nishin Soba’, a beloved Kyoto soba staple. 

While nishin, Pacific herring, have been caught and sold in the north of Japan (Hokkaido) for centuries, it wasn’t until the Edo period (1603-1868) that it gained popularity across the country when it was dried and salted and sent to Honshu (the main island of Japan). These preserved forage fish made their way down to Kyoto, where it was then added to a bowl of soba noodles and broth – and voila, the Nishin soba was born.

This buckwheat noodle dish is a popular choice in the colder months due to its warming, rich, sweet, and slightly salty soy-based broth (infused with sake, sugar, and mirin). The simmered dried boneless herring filets are typically soaked in a sweeter soy-sauce marinade, which adds an extra bit of sweetness and yields a clean break in the broth. 

The inner meat of the Nishin (Pacific herring) balances out the sweetness of the mirin and sweet glaze as you can definitely pick up on the salt absorption from the preservation process (especially on the inner side of the skin). 

The noodles are thin (similar to spaghetti but thinner) and boast a slightly nutty flavor (from the buckwheat) and are placed into the warm broth still cold. I imagine this is for preserving the structural integrity of the noodle, otherwise, it may risk becoming one mushy bowl of goop. Because of this, you still get that al dente, chewy texture that offers up a satisfying snap and bite. 

Topped with thinly sliced green onions, for a sharp, fresh flavor and crunch, this dish is surprisingly more versatile than you may think at first glance. 

Pale Ale Travel Tip: If you are unable to find ‘Nishin Soba’ on the menu, it may simply be referred to as ‘Herring Soba’. 

Enishi: Duck & Mori Soba (Osaka)

• Restaurant: Enishi 
• Address: 2 Chome-8-6 Tanimachi, Chuo Ward, Osaka, 540-0012, Japan

As I’ve hammered home time and time again, the area surrounding Osaka Castle is a goldmine for restaurants. There are far fewer tourists, prices are far more reasonable than say Dotonbori, and you are a stone’s throw away from both Umeda and Dotonbori – should you want to continue the night. 

Enishi was a “hometown” soba spot for me as I could literally throw a tennis ball from my hotel to it. It also happened to sit right next to my all-time favorite Japanese fast food restaurant – Yoshinoya – and a horse meat yakiniku restaurant that made me realize I need more horse in my life… Of course. Enishi was actually the restaurant I thought I was at the first time I stepped into Umaya Tarochan Temmabashi (the horse meat restaurant mentioned above). Boy, was I wrong. 

The noodles, thin, long, and easily slurpable, chilled to a perfect T. I love the slight nuttiness and earthiness that comes with the buckwheat, which I think some find to err on the side of flavorless. Yes, in general, this is a much more subtle noodle than say tsukemen or traditional ramen. However, my recommendation is to focus on the noodle preparation itself. The texture is what is most appealing to this Big Body (and a lot of soba enthusiasts). The firm-to-the-tooth, slippery, thin noodle is anything but fragile. The cold water used to rinse and chill them (and remove excess starch) preserves a refreshing texture that is able to not only absorb flavor but also not succumb to the flavor completely.

These are noodles that can bat from all metaphorical sides of the plate – they are versatile and highly customizable with the accompanying dips and broths. 

One point of note that I loved about every soba spot I ate at in Japan was that you could always find a side of wasabi accompanying it, along with the typical dipping sauce (mirin, soy sauce, and dashi) and green onions. The pungent smell and bite of the horseradish adds complexity to the light yet flavorful dipping sauce and who doesn’t love a good burn in the nasal cavity (not the Patrick Bateman type)?

Enishi offers up numerous variations of soba, including a cold herring soba that I would alternate between.

Look at that duck. In my book, that’s a perfect medium rare. Both duck and lamb are two types of meats that I’d consider extremely underrated. However, due to their richness and slight gaminess in flavor, I’m not sure I could eat them every single day. When I do occasionally indulge, it’s a special, often ethereal, gastronomic event. 

Served with wasabi, mustard, garlic chips, and negi shio (I think – a mixture of finely chopped green onions that I would label as a “Japanese chimichurri”), this medium-rare duck was so juicy that the Notorious B.I.G. would have rewritten ‘Juicy’ if he was alive to taste it. It’s surprisingly tender due to it being far less fibrous than chicken which was the perfect contrast to the slight crackle and saltiness of the seared skin. 

I personally enjoyed topping it with a single garlic chip and a touch of wasabi for additional crunch and flavor to cut through some of the earthiness and richness of the duck. 

Pale Ale Travel Tip: If you are in Kyoto and craving ramen, don’t worry, I’ve got you covered. Make sure to check out my post breaking down three of my favorite ramen restaurants in Kyoto (including my all-time favorite ramen joint in Japan – Taiho Ramen).

This might be an odd comparison but the tenderness and juiciness of this duck almost reminded me of American BBQ burnt ends – little morsels of rich goodness that have retained every single ounce of juice in the cooking process and small pockets of melty fat. 

Side Note: Every single time I eat duck, I can’t help but think of ‘A Christmas Story’, where after the Bumpus hounds run through their house and ruin the turkey, Ralphie and the family end up at a Chinese restaurant. After the staff brings out the roasted duck with the head on and the mother shrieks, the owner of the restaurant pulls out a cleaver and chops the head clean off. 

I’m also ashamed to admit that I didn’t eat more tempura during my time in the Kansai region. I did, however, gorge myself (and then some) on tempura’s more working-class cousin – kushikatsu (an Osaka staple consisting of deep-fried skewers coated in a batter similar to tempura but with a stronger flour and panko crumbs). 

Enishi’s tempura is light and crispy (exactly how good tempura should be), relatively neutral in flavor, letting the high-quality produce (eggplant, yam, etc…) shine through (with an ever so slight hint of sweetness), and structurally sound. Tempura in Japan rightfully puts any tempura I’ve had in the West to shame. The shrimp (prawns if you will) are five times the size of whatever estuary cherry shrimps I have put in front of me in New Hampshire. 

And, you just don’t feel bad after eating this tempura. Because it’s so light, you walk away feeling as nimble as ever. It’s the first time in my life I actually thought about signing up for the NFL Combine. But then I remembered that even a light and nimble Big Body is still running a 6-second-plus 40-yard-dash.

Do It All For Soba

While I’ve let myself down soba-wise, I will strive to do better. I feel like I need to start including something about soba in daily affirmations. These two soba restaurants in the Kansai region are a testament to the delectable iterations of this humble jewel of Japanese gastronomy. This is one dish that I’m excited to cultivate a better understanding of (and relationship with).

If you have any favorite soba spots in the Kansai region, I’d love to hear from you. Or, if there are any variations of soba (hot or cold, nishin or mori, etc…) that make your stomach sing, let me know in the comments!

Eat well everyone,

Big Body