Following my recent week in Tokyo, there are obviously many very exciting food memories. I ate my way across Tokyo, and from it all one of the standouts was definitely a very austere, formal soba house. That's all they do. Soba. Hand rolled, hand cut. The only optional pairing was tempura. It's one of the pricier, lauded soba houses, I believe they've been open longer than a century? There is a unique chewiness that's not the same as dried pasta cooked all dente. Springy. Your noodles shouldn't cling together, but sit in a surprisingly airy heap, separate from each other without having been oiled. They can be easily eaten, transfered from a bamboo tray to your cold broth bowl. It was a very hot day and it was supremely refreshing, and digested beautifully. The broth/dipping sauce was the perfect balance of sweet/salt/bonito, and the nuttiness of the buckwheat added substance to a very minimalist lunch, accompanied only by a few light, airy, completely non-greasy tempura prawns. The very matronly, middle-aged, kimono-clad waitress was very sweet. I'll never forget that lunch.