Just as another thing to try on the way to TCAT and the airport bus, Jake and I stopped by this newish soba place. It was late in the afternoon, so there was no one there, and in fact the master took some time to arrive at the counter – napping? He was up for it once he got there.
This was a funny place, but I think only because of the cultural associations it had for me. If you’re around Japan enough, you’ll absorb the stereotypes about things – in this case, the one that soba are associated with clean, cold, mountainous regions. To me, the fact that there was no heat in Torajiro, and some rough-edged wood for the wall menu and counter, and the master wearing a ball cap and sweatshirt like a country farmer, all made me feel a little mountainous. Jake thought I was crazy.
We just put down two trays of mori soba, the cold one served on a strainer. It was good soba, and properly cooked so it was soft through but still very firm to the tooth. And freezing cold! But with the warming effect of sobayu at the end.
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