Also, just a side note, just a little something something. I'm going to lay this on you right now. The golden rule of life is, You want anything done, you do it yourself. For example, if you want to defeat fascism and fuck Hitler up, you do it yourself, like the Inglorious Basterds. If you want to learn Japanese, you go hit on the Japanese ladies and males. And if you want a new blog post, you sure don't rely on your partner-in-crime who was suppose to have your back who was suppose to "raise out of the ashes like the phenix with two new posts ".
Anyways, I'm not bitter. Here is the place that I, The Beardless, will be reviewing.
But, even though perfection is impossible. You can come pretty close.
Kanda Yabu Soba is tucked away in a little alley over shadowed by the towering fucking huge metal-steel structured high rises. It is a little sanctuary for the lost Tokyolite soul who had too much MacDonlads and western influence cuisines. This place looks like and temple and it certainly should be revered as one. One certainly do not just visit this place. One takes a pilgrimage to this place. You better scrub yourself damn well, and soak for two hours in the Onsen before you come here to be enlightened by the Soba.
By now if you haven't figured out that this place sells Soba, you should just stop reading and hit yourself in the head with a biology 101 book. I will then come over to your house and present you with a Darwin award.
Yabu soba has been around since 1880. That's one hundred fucking thirty one years. Think about this, for 131 years, this place had made Soba everyday. When Japan was in the Meiji Era, they made soba. When Japan was kicking the butt of the russian in the first russo japanese war, they made soba, when your parents were born, they made soba, when Japan fought the second world war, they made soba. When all of the high raises building went up beside it, they made soba. This place survived war, bombings, American occupation and rowdy tourist gaijins. Think about that.
The interior of this place is real traditional. Long corridor leading to the dinning area. The sitting area is divided to the Tables and the traditional tatami area. If I found out that you came here and sat at the tables, I'm going to personally visit your house and hit you on the head with a biology 101 book. Yabu Soba is staffed all by obasan's. You will be greeted one of the finest version of いらしゃいませthat I have ever heard. It goes いらしゃませええええええええええ. Try and do that in your room. The cash counter is staffed by a younger woman wearing a fairly thick winter kimono. When you go out and pay she says something akin to No/Kabuki talk. Badass level 100.
This aint your average out of the package soba. They hand make this shit everyday. Each soba has 131 years of experience infused within to arouse the perfect balance between flavor and lightness. Each noodle, before they are served, are caressed by the hands of a mastero, who is probably 80 - 90 years old and have been making soba since he was 14.
For those of you less educated in the fine art of soba, you pick up the noodles, dip the soba in and then you slurp that shit. You slurp with all your might. Uses those cheek muscles. Make them sounds! If you still don't get it, then I suggest you stand in front of your mirror everyday for a good 15 minutes wondering why the hell are you doing in Japan and then practice the sucking motion until you get it right.
The closest station to Yabu soba is Akihabara. If you are ever there for some kinky anime fun, why not wind down and slurp away 131 years of pure history? If not for the soba, you should come here for the Zen like experience. Since this place should not be treated lightly, I will not attach a map of its location. For those of you with a strong curiosity and a desire to have good food. No the best food. You will find this place on your own. Plus their website has an english page.
PIC-CEPTION!
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