Bouncy noodles, bright greens, quick broth: A perfect bowl

At the top of my list of satisfying meals that nurture body and soul is a big, steaming bowl of noodles in broth.

My introduction to the Japanese version came on my first trip to Japan, 30 years ago, to visit American friends living in the town of Matsuyama in Ehime Prefecture on the island of Shikoku. Matsuyama (which means Pine Mountain) is known for its historic traditional bathhouse, Dogo Onsen. On a cold, drizzly day, I gladly bathed in its steaming hot waters.

Afterward, we lunched at an ancient noodle house, with great blackened ceiling beams, heavy wooden tables and impressive pottery. All the noodles were served in beautiful large, heavy handmade bowls, which to my untrained eye seemed like priceless museum pieces. The whole place (and its menu) appeared unchanged for centuries, despite the fact that the hip young waiters used what were then high-tech electric notebooks to take our orders.

There were over two dozen choices of noodle soup, some with slender buckwheat soba noodles, others with fat white chewy udon noodles. I hadn’t encountered udon before, so I ordered a bowl of them with shiitake mushrooms. The broth was sensational. The noodles were delightfully chewy. My one mistake as a novice eater of Japanese noodles was continuously sprinkling my bowl with shichimi togarashi, a red chilli spice mixture that was new to me. By the time I reached the bottom, the last few spoonfuls of broth were incendiary.

The mushroom soup was fitting, since we had just visited a mushroom farm and observed shiitakes growing. Rather than cultivate them in a cave, the locals drill holes in logs and inoculate them with spores. Then the logs are placed in the woods so the mushrooms grow in a natural setting.

Last week, to satisfy my sudden craving for a bowl of udon, I set to the task of making broth. Cooking from memory, with no ingredients on hand to make a proper Japanese dashi broth from kombu (dried kelp) and shaved bonito tuna, I improvised a vegetarian version using dried shiitakes and miso. I did have dried seaweed and udon noodles in the cupboard, bought at my favourite Japanese grocery. I started off with a not-very-Japanese sauté of leeks in butter, a favourite base for vegetarian soups. Fresh shiitake mushrooms, greens and tofu filled out the dish.

As we devoured our noodles and broth, I remembered how my American friend’s Japanese pals teased her mercilessly, because she couldn’t master the polite art of slurping noisily, the preferred way to eat noodles at their best.

As with other acquired skills, the way to become proficient is to practice daily. That’s an assignment I don’t mind at all.