Noodles, au naturel
Matsugen in Waikiki serves up fresh soba with diners able to watch the entire process
If you've ever had romantic notions of opening a restaurant to instant celebrity, I'd suggest you read "How I Learned to Cook," a collection of essays from some of the world's top chefs, edited by Kimberly Witherspoon and Peter Meehan.
I borrowed it from my boyfriend, promising to give it back after reading the first chapter about the beginnings of the world's top chef, Ferran Adrià. Then I started peeking at other famous names like Ming Tsai, Mario Batali, Anthony Bourdain, Daniel Boulud and Gary Danko, and I was hooked.
The book is a quick read, with many harrowing stories of endurance filled with sadistic masters, public humiliations and one childhood memory of overyeasted dough run amuck.
One of the most interesting stories was that of Momofuku's David Chang, whose passion for ramen led him to study in Japan. After a disastrous encounter with a drunken ramen guru who worked only in his underwear, Chang escaped to study with a soba master. The care with which his master worked was amazing -- Chang's stay was cut short when the soba maker learned of his commitment to ramen.
For good reason. In a time when anyone can throw up a Web site and become an instant expert, the idea of an apprenticeship, taking time to hone one's craft before angling for the spotlight, seems like a quaint anachronism. So it is a real treat to visit Matsugen, a soba izakaya in Waikiki, where diners can watch the entire soba-making process.
CINDY ELLEN RUSSELL / CRUSSELL@STARBULLETIN.COM
After buckwheat is ground into flour, soba maker Shingo Chibano makes his dough and rolls it out into thin, even sheets in a demonstration area in Matsugen's dining room, where racks hold his rolling dowels.
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WALK IN and you'll be looking at a grinding machine where buckwheat is fed into a stone mill and ground into flour to be as fresh as possible, preserving flavor and aroma.
During various times of day, soba maker Shingo Chibano can be seen turning the flour into dough and rolling it out like pizza dough. Chibano has worked with soba for 10 years, three of them as an apprentice, and humbly insists that he still has much to learn before even dreaming of setting up a soba izakaya of his own.
The initial challenge is in rolling the dough out into a broad and eventually very flat sheet measuring about 4 by 3 feet wide. Even harder is cutting a stack of folded noodles with a knife that's a bit lighter and narrower than a cleaver, which, on a rare slow evening, I got to try. Of course, I could not get the assured uniformity Chibano's commands, and some of my noodles ended up looking more like linguine than soba.
Nevertheless, I won the applause of diners seated around the demonstration area. They seemed to be amused by the impromptu entertainment. Fueled by the activity that surrounds the soba making, there always seems to be a lot of energy and camaraderie throughout the small room.
CINDY ELLEN RUSSELL / CRUSSELL@STARBULLETIN.COM
A specially designed blade is used to cut layers of folded dough into strips, with a wooden block guiding each cut.
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Those with the greatest interest in soba will start with an order of mori soba ($7.80) served cold on a bamboo tray with nothing more than a dipping sauce of dashi, mirin and shoyu, alongside a dab of wasabi and sliced scallions. This allows you to savor the soba's freshness and al dente texture you don't get with packaged noodles.
You can enjoy cold soba six other ways, and hot soba six ways. Hot and cold overlap only with a serving of soba with ebi and vegetable tempura, at $18 hot or cold.
Soba aficionados believe the fresh noodles are even more delicate than sashimi. We've all seen those party sushi platters left out for a few hours before each morsel is consumed. That cannot happen with soba. Staffers at Matsugen might even become agitated if they see you talking leisurely rather than digging into your mori soba.
Those with no such appreciation for the tradition, patience and care into producing soba will see only a very plain food. Maybe that's why those who show up for leisure flock to other menu, items, starting simply with miso soup ($6.20) or sashimi with ponzu ($12.20).
CINDY ELLEN RUSSELL / CRUSSELL@STARBULLETIN.COM
Noodles are gathered and shaken to remove excess buckwheat flour used to keep the dough from sticking. Resulting noodles are pure enough to eat uncooked.
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Poke is available, served "Edo" style in soy sauce with a sprinkling of sesame seeds and surrounded by mix-and-match mounds of onions, green peppers, seaweed and delectable yuzu, but be aware that this dish might arrive last. This is not what we're accustomed to, but it makes sense because the strong flavors could interfere with the tasting of subtler foods.
Also popular are a trio of Mount Fuji Lava Rock selections of beef tongue ($16.50), marbled beef ($18.50) and salmon ($14.50). The beef slices arrive half-seared on a sizzling platter. Just flip it once and every bite is perfection.
The only other thing left to be desired is dessert of fine, soft warabi mochi ($4.50), made from starchy bracken fern root, served chilled with a light coating of kuromitsu, a dark syrup, and a light coating of kinako, or toasted soybean powder. The mochi slides down your throat so quickly and easily, go ahead and order the blanc manger ($4.50) if you're curious. The sweetened soy-milk pudding -- the Italian original is made of almond milk -- might be compared to panna cotta (cooked cream).
Matsugen's owners rushed to open on New Year's Eve, when the noodles, symbolizing longevity, are served. It was a festive and auspicious way to start the year, and I hope it's an indication of exciting things to come our way throughout 2007.
Next for Matsugen is a trip to New York, where the restaurant will open in Tribeca in partnership with renowned chef Jean-Georges Vongerichten.
CINDY ELLEN RUSSELL / CRUSSELL@STARBULLETIN.COM
Mori soba is served cold in simplest form: on a laquer tray with just a few condiments.
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