And I’m a New York Jew, or at least was born that way. As such, I love Chinese food. (There’s the old joke that you always see Jewish people in Chinese restaurants, but never Chinese people in bagel shops.) Growing up, I enjoyed crab rangoon, shrimp with lobster sauce, sweet-and-sour pork, and egg foo young, though I soon learned that most people in China wouldn’t recognize some of what we call Chinese food.

While Chinese restaurants in Seattle are better and more “authentic” than in most other parts of the country, I’m disenchanted with the Chinese food scene here. And after meeting my Japanese partner in Tokyo and spending considerable time there, I’m similarly critical of much of the Japanese food in Seattle. I’m sure my criticism would likely extend to all the Asian cuisines if I traveled to the respective countries. (Actually, I’ve been to several.) After all, I’m the type of guy who scoffs at Seattle’s bagels and pizza, saying they’re better back in New York.

And, yes, I’m the guy who answers the “Where’s the best dim sum in Seattle?” question with the obnoxious reply of “100-something miles to the north, in Richmond.” It’s where they do Cantonese food right. And Hunanese. And Shanghainese. (I can point you to several places preparing xiao long bao, a.k.a. soup dumplings, far superior to what’s available locally. Just compare the tell-tale droop of soup in the dumplings of the homey Long’s Noodle House in Vancouver, above left, versus what you get at the sleek Din Tai Fung in Bellevue, above right.) We do have some decent Sichuanese and Taiwanese restaurants, but they’re better across the border. The same for sushi, and ramen, and izakaya fare—all are better in Vancouver.

So why are Seattle’s Chinese and Japanese restaurants giving me the blues?

Much as I disdain blueberries in bagels as being inauthentic and dumbing down the cuisine, I don’t want blueberries in my sushi. At Momiji in Capitol Hill, there’s a tropical paradise roll (pictured, top of the article) described as “mango, strawberry, tobiko, cucumber & avocado topped with tuna, salmon & spicy blueberry sauce.” It’s…frightening. Given Momiji’s use of cream cheese in other rolls, I’m surprised it’s not in this one; sadly, as with a bad bagel, I can picture blueberried starch topped with cream cheese and salmon.

Momiji’s regular menu reveals forty different rolls. Turning to my food-writing colleagues, Seattle Weekly’s Hanna Raskin describes the rolls as a mayo-fest (in addition to being filled with fruit, sometimes they’re fried, or fiery from jalapenos), while The Stranger’s Bethany Jean Clement calls Momiji a “sushi circus,” adding, “If a clown went out for sushi…these rolls are what the clown would order.”

Rolls simply aren’t authentic. They’re now the new cupcake, with the quality of the base (the block of rice) ignored and the tops increasingly sparkly with swirls and sweets and sprinkles. No wonder Yelpers celebrate this sushi as “the best” and “freakin delicious,” setting the quality bar quite low.

This is not to pick exclusively on Momiji. Wasabi Bistro and Umi Sake House in Belltown, Shiku and Moshi Moshi in Ballard, and Japonessa downtown are similar—all enclaves of cocktail-clutching hipsters. (Note the recent outcry when Bastille lured bartender Erik Carlson away from Moshi Moshi.)

What saddens me is Momiji’s unrealized potential. A lot of money went into the restaurant, and it shows. Lights, furniture, and overall feel are beautiful. You imagine you’ve escaped to Kyoto once you get beyond the bar area and see the zen garden in the courtyard. I want to place a chair out there to relax and eat a kaiseki meal. Momiji’s been promising an actual coursed kaiseki menu, but that’s yet to surface. I’m pessimistic it will ever happen, though I hope they prove me wrong.

But even if they do it, I fear it won’t be the true kaiseki experience. Instead of experiencing zen and peacefully contemplating the colors, textures, and flavors of the food, diners will be distracted by the chatter of noisy neighbors drinking crazy cocktails and filling up on crazy rolls.

Make money on drinks, with food the secondary focus, often dumbed down. Maybe that’s a winning business model, a secret of success overcoming the need for critical acclaim. I fear that if food is an afterthought, there’s a risk it becomes bland, bastardized, or just plain bad.

At the other end of Capitol Hill’s commercial core, Hanna Raskin points out a similar situation at Bako, which she calls a “China doll” where “blandness is a recurring issue.” Seattle Magazine’s Allison Austin Scheff concurs, expressing her disappointment by explaining “there’s potential, but inconsistencies rule.” For her, the food was “midline,” often suffering from a lack of seasoning. But it’s a gorgeous space (see photo below, next to Bako’s Singapore noodles), a place where people afraid of the grittiness of the International District feel comfortable and pay a premium for safe Asian food to accompany their fancy drinks.

Now I know it’s fruitless to expect people to be as gung ho for authenticity as I am. But I can hope. At the same time, I can try to check my expectations. I’m forewarned that Capitol Hill’s new Regent Bakery and Cafe offers a Hong Kong-style bakery with a mix of Eastern and Westernized pastries and cakes, and meals that are American Chinese. (Think almond chicken, honey-walnut prawns, and fried wontons.) Portion sizes are good, the food tastes fresh, and prices are more affordable than the higher-end places in the area. (Yes, I can even have a cocktail if I don’t want bubble tea.)

And I can accept the fusion focus of a place like Chino’s, the new Mexican slash Chinese joint not far from Regent. The chef is self-taught, and my first bite there, pig-ear salad, made me smile. The preview menu showed promise, teasing Chinese menudo (offal stew with misua noodles) and a “Blood and Guts” concoction of pig blood cake and tripe. Unfortunately, neither materialized. The buzz has shifted to the bartender, and in defense of a Yelp attack on the food, the chef replied, “We are primarily a bar.” Still, I hope that the apparent passion of the chef will someday play out with the appearance of offal dishes.

So, where is the authentic stuff in Seattle? What do I recommend? For Japanese food, I miss the grittiness and goodness of both Koraku and Takohachi, but Tsukushinbo and Maneki remain. With history as home-style restaurants, both temporarily transport me to Japan. Kisaku and Sushi Kappo Tamura are neighborhood places where many Japanese people prefer to eat sushi. They’re my two favorites in town. And in a nod to fusion, I adore Katsu Burger for its fried pork and traditional fixings on a bun.

Recommendations for Chinese food are tougher, as my favorites tend to be on the Eastside (Bellevue’s Bamboo Garden is the first place that comes to mind, as I love the unusual dishes on the “Walk on the Wild Side” menu.) For dim sum, I maintain that one must travel north to Richmond for the finest quality. While there are many excellent options, Jade Seafood Restaurant is one of my top picks. The har gow (shrimp dumplings, the bellwether of quality dim sum) are great, the steamed mushroom dumplings are even better, and the baked BBQ pork buns are melt-in-your-mouth delicious. I can never get enough of the pickled ginger with century egg and prawn roll. And you can end your meal with an unconventional dessert: blueberry glutinous balls. Inside the soft skin of these chilled balls are fresh whipped cream and—would you believe?—blueberries.

Far (but not so far) from Seattle, I’ve found an Asian restaurant that gives me some blues I’m happy to have.

Originally published by Seattle Dining. Blueberry glutinous ball photo courtesy of Mijune Pak, Follow Me Foodie.

On the heels of my return from Tokyo

And now Bo Ramen hits the scene, starting this week. At the helm is Bo Maisano, who’s been fine-tuning ramen recipes for many months. (Disclosure: I’ve been part of his test panel, seeing and tasting the evolution of his ramen, though I’ve yet to try the latest incarnations.) Ahead of his first ramen pop-up on May 1, I had a chance to talk with Bo about his newfound passion.

How might Seattleites know you from pre-ramen days?

I opened The Tin Table in Capitol Hill most recently, spent time in Madison Park Cafe doing country French, and ran 1200 Bistro back in 2007.

How did you get hooked on ramen?

I read about ramen in Lucky Peach magazine and made it. It was amazing to me. Fresh noodles, fresh broth, and new additions—and I was hooked. I then went out to Boom Noodle and Samurai Noodle to check out their bowls and it only furthered my obsession.

What draws you to cooking ramen?

The pursuit of the perfect bowl. I love each part of the bowl: noodles, broth, pork and add-ons. Each has its part in the whole, and it all has to balance.

How have you been learning the process? What resources have you tapped into?

Making many bowls and having experienced ramen friends guiding my path. I still search books, online recipes and blogs looking for a new spin or technique.

What’s the hardest challenge in preparing ramen?

Consistency as I continually perfect my method. The noodles have been a real learning experience. Learning the ingredients in the Asian markets has been a lot of fun also. This ramen path has been a real humbling experience, steering me out of my comfort zone. It’s very invigorating.

How do you see yourself putting your own spin on ramen?

I’d like to figure out how to add in some different ingredients and cooking styles (tapping into my New Orleans roots) without breaking the integrity of the bowl.

Any favorite ramen bowls/places you’ve found in Seattle? What’s your favorite type of ramen?

I am a fan of Boom and Samurai, as well as Boke Bowl in Portland. I really feel I should get around more. So far, my favorite bowl is shoyu because I like the soy saltiness, stock sweetness, noodle creaminess, and fatty mouthfeel.

How are your slurping skills?

They are okay. It’s not a skill that was ingrained in youth. It is the best way to eat/taste the broth. I’m still new and getting better at it.

What would you like a diner’s experience at Bo Ramen to be like?

A good one, hopefully. I feel I am serving up a decent ramen and want to share that with many of my friends who are new to this beautiful meal in a bowl. I am serving a traditional shoyu ramen bowl and a user-friendly miso bowl that include both a seafood version and a vegetarian version. I am working on other add-ons, like braised belly and shredded smoked shoulder. I have yam noodles for the gluten-free folks also. I have to start small so that I don’t overextend myself.

What do you see as the future of Bo Ramen?

I hope these pop-ups are a success as I would like to open a brick-and-mortar location. I have a tonkotsu bowl that I will feature later, and there are a number of summer noodle bowls that I’d like to do as well. I’ll also do gyoza, and buns filled with braised belly and pickled vegetables. Those buns are something special that I could eat everyday along with a great bowl of noodles.

Bo Ramen debuts at Skelly and the Bean on May 1 and 8 from 5:30 pm to 9:00 pm. Walk-ins are welcome as long as supply lasts, or you can pre-purchase a bowl of shoyu, miso shrimp, or miso veggie ramen. You can also try the ramen at Geraldine’s Counter on May 5 and 19 from 5:30 pm to 9:00 pm, either by walk-in or reservation via the GC website. And get the latest about Bo Ramen via Facebook or Twitter.

Even better, order omakase, putting yourself in the hands of the chef. If you’re lucky, Nakano-san will serve you shirako. This cod milt is a delicacy; the lobe-like pieces have a creamy, custardy texture like oceanic sweetbreads or brains, but even better. While some like their shirako tempura-ed, I prefer mine with a little ponzu sauce, which adds a slight punch of citrusy tanginess.

So what does Kisaku’s shirako teach us about sex?

It’s all about understanding and enjoying sperm.

Shirako means “white children” in Japanese. Indeed, milt is the seminal fluid of fish, in this case cod. (Stay with me…it’s still a delicacy.) We’re talking sperm sac. We’re talking semen.

Note: It doesn’t “make” you anything if you eat and enjoy shirako. And what’s not to like? It melts in your mouth, like buttah.

Now I’m not saying we should be eating the “white children” of humans, though if you believe in the book Natural Harvest, there’s great potential in that possibility:

Semen is not only nutritious, but it also has a wonderful texture and amazing cooking properties. Like fine wine and cheeses, the taste of semen is complex and dynamic. Semen is inexpensive to produce and is commonly available in many, if not most, homes and restaurants. Despite all of these positive qualities, semen remains neglected as a food. This book hopes to change that. Once you overcome any initial hesitation, you will be surprised to learn how wonderful semen is in the kitchen.

We shouldn’t be freaked out about semen. Since it’s such a misunderstood thing, here are some facts:

• The average ejaculate varies in size, but figure an average of about one teaspoon of semen.
• About 90 percent of semen is water, with the rest other nutrients (enzymes, vitamins, minerals, etc.).
• Sperm is only a small component of what’s in semen.
• Unejaculated sperm are absorbed back into the body.
• Ejaculation averages a distance of seven to ten inches, but can be three feet or more.
• Average speed at ejaculation can reach about 30 miles per hour–but sperm have no sense of direction (and don’t stop to ask directions).
• Sperm can live up to five days inside a woman’s body–think about that in terms of pregnancy risk.
• Healthy men produce 70-150 million sperm per day.
• A healthy diet contributes to a high sperm count, as does exercise, sleep, and avoiding tobacco and alcohol.
• A man’s diet can affect the flavor or his semen. Watch out for asparagus.

As for the last point, you might consider eating kiwi or pineapple to sweeten your bodily fluids. Or, thinking back to Kisaku, maybe ponzu is a good idea.

First published in Seattle Weekly’s Voracious on April 19, 2012.

Just over a month ago, I enjoyed a terrific soba dinner that popped up at Nook, a place better known for biscuits. There, the soba was served warm, in broth with duck or oysters.

This past weekend, the soba was cold (intentionally!) when Kappo Sushi Tamura opened its doors to Chef Mutsuko Soma, who treated lucky customers to a pop-up lunch. Soma, former chef at Chez Shea, is passionate about soba, and even brought a stone grinder to show how much labor is involved in making flour from the buckwheat seeds. I was surprised to learn that it takes two hours of grinding to produce enough flour for ten portions of noodles.

What you might not know is that there’s so much buckwheat in our own backyard. Washington is the biggest grower of buckwheat in the States, with virtually all of it exported to Japan. But Soma gets some from farmer Darrel Otness, who himself would like to see more soba consumption on this side of the Pacific.

Using Otness’ seeds, Soma prepares a “nihachi” (two-eight) flour, consisting of twenty percent white flour and eighty percent buckwheat. She explained that it’s possible to do one hundred percent buckwheat, but she prefers the texture of her formula. In the other direction, cheap soba shops in Japan do a fifty/fifty formula to save money and add longevity to the life of the noodles, while dry noodles tend to be only thirty percent buckwheat and seventy percent white flour.

Grinding the buckwheat seeds is just one part of the noodle-making process. There’s no pasta machine in Soma’s noodle studio. Per tradition, she uses a rolling pin and a soba knife to cut the noodles with thin precision.

At the pop-up, Soma served zaru-soba, which is my favorite way to experience the buckwheat flavor and aroma. A pile of soba sits on the tray (the zaru). You place some negi (the real thing, far better but more expensive than green onion, which you typically find in its place in Seattle) and wasabi in your tsuyu (soy bonito sauce), stirring to mix. Next, grab some soba noodles with your chopsticks, dip them into the sauce, and then slurp them up. Nice, clean flavors—and a dish that’s so refreshing, especially in warm weather.

Lunch ($25) came with a first course of tsukemono (assorted pickles, in this case very delicately marinated) and nimono—a stew of braised beef shoulder, vegetables, and a tangle of shirataki noodles. After the soba noodles, there was a chance to add sobayu, the cooking broth of the soba, into the remaining tsuyu. This results in a warm treat that’s delicious, and which recaptures the nutrients and vitamins that the soba leaves behind in the water.

Lastly, there was dessert, soba-style: warabi mochi (more jelly-like than chewy) with soba jelly, kinako (roasted soy powder) vanilla ice cream, and kuromitsu—a bitter, molasses-like syrup that I love.

Soma sees a soba shop in Seattle’s future. Touting the taste and the health benefits of buckwheat noodles, she hopes to open her own restaurant by the end of the year. Seattle’s got ramen and recently its first dedicated udon shop, so it’s exciting to see that soba is on the horizon.

Grinding the buckwheat (photo courtesy of Binah Yeung)

Kneading the dough (photo courtesy of Binah Yeung)

Rolling the dough (photo courtesy of Binah Yeung)

Cutting the noodles (photo courtesy of Binah Yeung)

The soba course, at last

Mutsuko Soma shows off her soba noodles

The menu boasts “traditional and nouveau Japanese cuisine,” but after all these years, there’s nothing really nouveau unless you’ve come out of a cave and count a couple of sushi rolls or the Hershey’s chocolate sundae. What you can find are comforting favorites like chicken karaage, gyoza, donburi rice bowls, and a couple of teriyaki-flavored preparations. One is ebi bacon maki: skewered prawns wrapped in bacon and grilled with teriyaki sauce.

So what does Bush Garden’s ebi bacon maki teach us about sex?

It’s all about the dilemma of keeping kosher.

As it’s just prior to Passover, I can tell you that there’s actually a book called Kosher Sex, authored by Shmuley Boteach. Boteach is a rabbi who more recently wrote Kosher Sutra and Kosher Adultery, which is subtitled “Seduce and Sin with Your Spouse.” The guy’s no prude. Kosher Adultery, for example, encourages couples to integrate principles of adultery into their bedrooms to spice up their sex lives. For example, wives can become their husbands’ private webcam girls, while husbands can lay lustful eyes on their wives-turned-mistresses. I don’t agree with all of the philosophy, though I do like the notion of helping committed couples reignite the flame of forgotten passion.

Sadly, though, Boteach’s sex-positive approach pertains only to married, heterosexual couples.

There’s even a kosher sex toys website with a stated mission to “provide married adults with products that can help enhance their intimate moments without involving crude or indecent pictures or text.” There are no models or even mannequins wearing lingerie (actually, the lingerie link only shows pictures of stiletto boots and spike heel sandals), as the owners “believe that only two people belong in the bedroom-and bringing pictures of others in can only harm a marriage.” The site defines kosher sex as “the promotion of meaningful sexual acts that mold two people into one spiritual flesh.”

Sex and spirituality can certainly be connected, but I believe we all choose how “orthodox” we want to be. When I worked for Planned Parenthood, I did an informal survey and found that the vast majority of the workers were Catholic. (Jews were second.) These women–I was about the only man–embraced their Catholicism, but rejected what they considered regressive policies related to gender and sexual rights.

As for keeping kosher, I think about a bottle of Baconlube that the guys from J&D’s (local makers of Bacon Salt and Baconnaise) sent me. The bad news: Despite sharing in our society’s bacon-loving frenzy, I find the smell and texture too off-putting for the bedroom. The good news: For those interested, there is no actual pork in any of the J&D’s products. With Baconlube, you can have a certifiably kosher sexual experience.

First published in Seattle Weekly’s Voracious on April 5, 2012.

Umai Do is a new Japanese confectionary shop in the Central District which sells a small selection of tea-accompanying sweets. Last time in, I spotted dorayaki and manj? in the showcase. Much to my surprise, there was also sakura mochi. Especially timely for this cherry blossom season, these are mochi filled with anko (sweet red bean paste) and wrapped in a brined sakura (cherry blossom) leaf. I’ve had much better, as Umai Do’s are small (the sakura leaf shouldn’t completely cover the mochi), short on anko, and a bit gummy, but they’re fun to try and a treat to find.

So what does Umai Do’s sakura mochi teach us about sex?

It’s all about knowing how to handle the first time.

It’s not a stretch to see sakura mochi as metaphor for a female virgin. It’s understandable not to know what to expect or do during the first experience. Will it feel good? How do you handle it? Will anything bleed out?

With sakura mochi, you can peel back the protective leaf, but then you’re missing out on an important part of the experience. First bring the mochi to your noise and enjoy its distinct perfume–very fragrant. Now bring it to your lips, then bite it, gently, and enjoy the salty brininess. Now you’re into the pink–vulnerable, ready, and anticipatory. Once you plunge further in, be prepared for the dark red flow from inside. There’s nothing to be afraid of; on the contrary, this should be a pleasurable experience.

The same with having sexual intercourse for the first time. The woman may be nervous and concerned, so it’s important to take things slowly. She and her partner should be attentive to her pleasure, making sure she’s aroused and therefore lubricating. Prior to penetration, use additional lubrication as necessary. Find a position that’s comfortable. Turn foreplay–kissing, caressing, etc.–into during-play so that it’s not strictly about penetration. For penile-vaginal intercourse, some women find spooning to be the best position.

Whatever you do, breathe, smile, make eye contact, and speak out with your hopes, needs, fears, and desires. Feedback is an important part of the process; good communication shows consideration. Relax as much as possible to enjoy the experience.

Then, as with good sakura mochi, have another.

First published in Seattle Weekly’s Voracious on March 22, 2012.

Dish:

In the bowl: Per the menu: “house marinated ikura over salmon sashimi & thin noodles.” There’s also shiso and all-important dashi.

Supporting cast/What to do: That’s the serving, so enjoy it for what it is, along with the pretty bowl and the gorgeous garden in the background.

Noodling around: Actually, it would be a bit unusual to order this somen on its own. It should be part of a fuller kaiseki meal. There’s talk of a formal kaiseki menu coming to Momiji, but it’s yet to materialize, so you’ll need to cobble one together on your own.

That said, it’s nice to see somen on a menu, as Japanese restaurants are more likely to showcase ramen, udon, and soba. Somen are very thin wheat noodles that, as here, are typically served cold. I eat them often as a cool summer treat with tsuyu, which is a dipping sauce. In this preparation, though, they’re in dashi, a broth most commonly made from katsuobushi (fermented bonito) and kombu (kelp). To me, the dashi is the key element of this dish, as it showcases the skills of the chef, here delivered with quality. The somen itself contributes least to the flavor of the dish, as it’s more of a vehicle to bring the dashi to your mouth–and to provide slippery texture.

It’s fun to have both salmon and “future salmon” with the noodles–the ikura (salmon roe) providing bubbly bursts of sweetness and saltiness. And don’t forget to eat that shiso leaf; it’s far from a garnish.

If you want more: As mentioned above, the somen is part of the kaiseki menu, most likely one of the first dishes of a proper kaiseki meal. This is a dollhouse-sized treat, so you’ll definitely want and need to eat more. By all means, avoid the crazy sushi rolls and order other dishes from the kaiseki menu. I like the goma tofu ($6)–white sesame tofu with dengaku miso paste and candied peanut–which has comforting texture and earthy flavor.

Be aware/beware: Go early if you want to enjoy the solitude of the garden before the noisy Capitol Hill crowds come. They’re the ones who’ll be eating the sushi rolls. Your kaiseki dish (or dishes) deserves your dedicated attention.

First published in Seattle Weekly’s Voracious on March 5, 2012.

My partner and I sat at the sushi bar and each ordered chirashizushi, as we both wanted bowls and then to be done. Chirashi means “scattered,” and our bowls had an assortment of sashimi scattered over sushi rice, along with tamago (egg), ikura (salmon roe), and a few other items. For the record, the variety of fish was good (to be expected), but the quality was just so-so. You can get better, more flavorful cuts of fish at Kisaku and Sushi Kappo Tamura–the two places I’d most highly recommend.

So what does Moshi Moshi’s chirashizushi teach us about sex?

It’s about the never-ending connections between sex and food–and here at Moshi Moshi, the whole experience.

Strangely, the sushi chef spent an inordinate amount of time talking with my partner (she’s from Tokyo) about his love life–or lack thereof. I found his ramblings–at least the translated parts–slightly amusing to start, but then they got increasingly annoying as he’d interrupt our conversation and our focus on the food. While my partner indulged his stories about relationship woes (perhaps we could have done an intervention or complained, but there were some cultural issues at play; besides, I’d later consider complaining that the price in the restaurant was more than the price advertised online, but that’s an issue for another time), I contemplated the bowl before me. The scattering of fish and the dish as a whole represented a scattering of “greatest hits” of sex and food connections from previous Sexy Feast columns, including:

• Meskel’s kitfo, and doing it raw (here, sashimi)
• Kaname’s shishamo, and ravishing the whole body (here, seafood)
• Blackboard Bistro’s brisket slider, and the value of lubrication (here, soy sauce)
• Madison Park Conservatory’s octopus, and the intrigue of tentacle porn (here, tako)
• Issian’s onigiri, and the handling of balls (here, ikura)
• Brave Horse Tavern’s pretzels, and the price of pleasure (here, the cost)
• The Walrus and the Carpenter’s boquerones, and the meaning of bathing (here, marinated components)
• Travelers Thali House’s thali, and the joy of variety (here, all the toppings)

And for my friend behind the sushi counter, any of the other Sexy Feast columns might help with sex and relationship issues he might be encountering now or in the future.

First published in Seattle Weekly’s Voracious on March 1, 2012.

Dish:

In the bowl: Soba noodles in warm dashi with oysters and negi (a long onion that looks like a leek)

Supporting cast/What to do: The soup was served with a sampling of tempura–consisting of shrimp, scallop, and eggplant–and one pickled myoga, which is a flower bud of wild Japanese ginger (that’s unusual to find here). The tempura came with dipping sauce and some superb wasabi salt. As for the soup, there was an option to add vinegar to change the flavor of the broth.

Noodling around: The Mein Man featured cold soba noodles in its inaugural column. I prefer them cold, with wasabi-laced dipping sauce.

But on this occasion, the owners of Nook, a biscuit place, are taking advantage of connections in Japan to do a “pop-up” series of hot soba dinners. Most exciting, they make the soba noodles from scratch. My understanding is that only a couple of local chefs make fresh soba noodles, and only just sporadically.

The broth is wonderful, with the grilled negi contributing sharp but sweet onion-like flavor and smokiness, and the oysters infusing the broth with a taste of the ocean. I also tried the alternative soup of soba and duck, which is also delicious–a little more mellow in flavor, but still allowing the dashi to shine.

The noodles are also tasty, the buckwheat flour giving up its nutty, earthy flavor. My only quibble is that the noodles could be slightly thicker, as they get soft and slightly gummy in the broth. That’s typically the challenge with fresh-made noodles. And it’s why I prefer soba noodles cold, as they tend to retain their bite that way.

If you want more: For this meal, there is no need for more, as the soba soup is part of a larger, three-course meal. It starts with a generous sampler of appetizers, including kinpira gobo (burdock root stir-fried and glazed with soy sauce, sugar, sake and mirin) and carrots, soba zushi (with fresh wasabi and a shark skin grater!), soba chips, and a salad of fresh greens, fu (Japanese wheat gluten), and a delicate dressing. After the appetizers and soba soup is dessert: soba tea along with mochi filled with fresh whipped cream, mascarpone, and strawberry.

Be aware/beware: This was one of the most delightful meals I’ve had of late. It was wonderfully fresh and flavorful food that transported me back to Japan. And a bargain at $10.

This may be a one-time only pop-up experience, with just one more seating on Tuesday night. That night is sold-out, but you can always call to see if there’s a cancellation, or you can try for walk-in seating ($12) based on availability.

As one of Nook’s owners has experience working with soba in Japan, there’s hope that they’ll repeat this event. And at the least, it’s definitely encouraged me to return to Nook sometime to try their biscuits, which also get great reviews.

First published in Seattle Weekly’s Voracious on February 27, 2012.

Dish:

On the plate: Per the menu: “Stir fried Indian yellow curry with fresh egg noodles, chicken (beef or tofu), carrot, pepper, basil, green bean, mushroom and onion.” I ordered mine with beef, and in addition to the listed vegetables, this preparation included cabbage and broccoli.

Supporting cast/What to do: Just dig in.

Noodling around: Root Table’s Bollywood Yakisoba is a twist on the popular Japanese dish. Yaki means fried and soba means noodle (the generic noodle, not the buckwheat soba noodle). In Japan, the noodle dish is typically made with pork, stir-fried with carrots, onions, and cabbage. This version left out the typical Japanese flavoring from yakisoba sauce (a thicker, sweeter variety of Worcestershire), aonori (seaweed flakes), beni shoga (strips of pickled ginger), and katsuobushi (bonito flakes). To change it up and achieve the Indian fusion, Root Table added a few vegetables and yellow curry, which infused the dish with decent heat. The stir-fried egg noodles were cut short as if for a child, which I found frustrating to eat, but the flavors were good.

Given the Bollywood name, I was half hoping for a song-and-dance number with delivery of my noodles. That didn’t happen.

But in a Bollywood-like, melodramatic twist of fate slash reversal of fortune, my dining companion got the better noodle dish: Burmese Noodle Curry. Picture pretty much the same vegetables (she changed to chicken for the meat) in a yellow curry soup. The grilling of the chicken was a nice touch, adding smokiness, and the addition of crisp noodles on top added contrast to the soft egg noodles. As the menu said, the broth was rich, silky and delightful to finish. At $9, the Burmese Noodle Curry was good to the last drop, offering paisa vasool (”money’s worth”).

If you want more: There’s an interesting tapas menu full of potential starters. Lemongrass Chicken Lollipops, Thai Bruschetta, and Sweet Pumpkin Tempura are all tempting, with Cajun Calamari looking just a little out of place. But you might find the Root Fries ($5) most fetching. These seasoned, hand-cut root vegetables (think taro, sweet potato, and the like) are deep-fried and served with homemade spicy ketchup.

Be aware/beware: This is one of the most pleasant places for Asian food at this price point. No Bollywood tunes, but chill music to relax by, and an earthy, warm atmosphere. Carved wood-slabs form the table tops, and some of the seats are tree stumps–though they can get a little uncomfortable if you want to linger for too long.