Oodles of noodles!

During my last days in Hiroshima, I was invited to the grand lodgings of the cunning Detective M* for an afternoon of videos and udon noodle-making. Gathering with an expert team of culinary cassanovas, including the ferocious noodler Maharaja M, the charming Miss Y and the dashing Sir S, we donned aprons and worked in pairs to rub and thump batches of dough. Signature food colourings were selected to differentiate each pairs' dough from others (mine and Mika-chan's lump was resplendent in pink).

Once the rounds of dough had rested, during which the talkies - namely, "Independence Day" - was appreciated - Detective M trained us in the technique of squishing dough with one's feet. First, a film of plastic is stretched over the bagged dough. Then, one stands tippy-toe upon this plastic-covered lump and delivers an eternity of pirouettes upon its miniscule stage. One rather feels like a ballerina in a jewellery box in endless rotation (see pictures: Miss Y and Sir S illustrate this move with notable grace). For beginner's luck, I squished my dough whilst wearing a snug pair of stripey purple socks. But, woe betide the twirling squisher who causes a tear in his or her plastic! Such a culprit will be forced to eat the product whole, complete with their own sock-fluff! Once squishing was concluded, we set about slicing the noodles into long worm-like threads. My noodles, being pink, took on the aspect of intestines freshly disembowelled. The noodles were then plopped into cane scoops, and lowered into hot water. Delicious, firm and thick, the udon noodles were eaten with tempura and a hot soup. Superb!

And why is it that Blogger skewiffs certain pics that are already rotated correctly? Damn and blast.





* A master of sneaking and intrigue, and outstanding cartographer of the Hiroshima locale.