Zaru Soba (Cold Buckwheat Noodles)

One of my earliest memories is slurping chilled Japanese zaru soba noodles made by my mother. I was little and shirtless, a kitchen towel draped around my neck, legs swinging off the chair, the steady hum of our window AC unit in the background. On a hot summer day, those cold buckwheat noodles were pure relief—dinner that could quench as much as it could satisfy.

These days, when the humidity sets in, I still reach for this cold noodle dish to cool down from the inside out. To remove every trace of starch, my mother would rinse the cooked soba under cold running water, scrubbing them like laundry. This step shocks the hot noodles, setting their bouncy texture and preventing clumping.

Next comes the mentsuyu—a savory noodle soup base that serves as a dipping sauce, typically made from dashi, mirin, soy sauce, and sake. To keep it weeknight-easy, I skip the sake (no one in my family seems to notice). Meanwhile, instant dashi powder delivers deep umami flavor, bypassing the need to make a homemade version with kombu and bonito flakes.

To serve, pile the cold soba noodles into a bowl and pour the mentsuyu into a separate, small bowl. Drop in a couple of ice cubes to chill and gently dilute the sauce—like a martini on the rocks, but saltier. I finish the noodles with sliced green onions, shredded nori, a dab of wasabi, and a mound of grated daikon radish. Don’t skip that last one—this bittersweet garnish is like fluffy snow, melting into the sauce.

You could arrange the zaru soba in picture-perfect compositions like my mother always did. But more often, I eat them right from the strainer with chopsticks—noodles flying, mentsuyu splashing—until the bowl is empty and I’m cool again.