From the Vaults - best soba in town (Bangkok, Thailand)

During my year-and-a-half stint in Bangkok, I had the privilege of eating some of the most unbelievable street food and enjoying some world-class (usually Italian) cuisine, sometimes at no cost whatsoever. In the latter case, my friend Hyojung was touring the city in search of the best food, nightlife and shopping for a book that she eventually published in Korea. We were wined and dined by the purveyors of these fine establishments and allowed to take copious amounts of pictures. Thrown into the mix of "the 22" and more recent finds will be excerpts of a handful of these "From the Vault" reviews. I hope these add a bit to discerning my food POV--ENJOY!!

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Unlike other Asian cold-noodles (most notably Chinese liang mien or Korean nyang mien), soba is meant to be engulfed with a healthy slurp, rather than chewed. As the noodle hits the back of the throat, the hardness of its form is noted, and the usually peripheral gustation receptors at the back of the tongue discern the taste. Homemade buckwheat soba differs quite dramatically from factory-produced soba. Production of homemade soba involves grinding of soba seeds into a fine powder, with the full hardness and sweetness of the soba intact. Factory-production often results in the loss of the soba aroma, the stripping away of the sweet soba skin, and a softer (limper) noodle.

Homemade buckwheat soba exists in Bangkok, but only in one place! Or, at least that was the claim of one of my good friends, Nobu, who was at one time an assistant chef at the Soba House. At the time of this review, the Soba House was located about 300 meters away from Sukhumvit Road, hidden from view along Soi 31 by a long drive-way with only Japanese and Thai signs demarcating the way.

The menu at the soba house revolved around the hand-crafted soba, most notably the zaru soba. This cold soba arrived atop a bamboo mat, with separate bowls for hot dip, cold dip, and finely sliced onions with wasabi. Also included were two carafes: one with cold soba sauce and another with hot soba run-off. The hot dip was not bad, with a taste of fish stock, eggplant and onions, and a touch of sugar. However, the sauce was overwhelmingly salty, and the heat welted the soba, robbing it of its natural hardness. On the other hand, the cold dip was more mild and refreshing. I mixed the cold dip myself in a small bowl, with soba sauce (soy sauce, sugar and meting), onions and wasabi. The element of control involved with the preparation of the sauce allows the consumer to vary quantities of each ingredient according to his or her preference, adjusting savoriness and sweetness in a likewise fashion. The natural sweetness and textures of both the soba noodles and the onions were far more noticeable with the cold dip, with flavors suggesting a hint of fish stock and sugar. The hardness of the noodle was noticeable, and the melding of the buckwheat soba and sauce fantastic!

The soba meal concluded with the pouring of the hot soba-runoff into what was left of the cold soba dip. This was the part that I loved the most! There was a certain art to this process, involving just the right amount of each liquid. The final masterfully concocted soup had a foggy consistency, much like miso soup. There was a subtlety to the taste, yet also a richness of flavor that was not unlike a hot pot of shabu shabu after a long night of cooking.

Yes Virginia, there is homemade buckwheat soba in Bangkok... and it is GOOD!