Mineo

Today I heard that Uncle Mineo passed away; he had been sick and in and out of the hospital from September when I was in Japan and saw him last. In fact he wasn't an uncle but my wife's cousin, she always called him Older Brother Mineo. Mineo had a tough childhood and quite an adventurous past I hear, but the Mineo that I have known some twenty years was the kindest most modest and gentle fellow.

Mineo ran an udon shop for years located way off the main road it's a miracle he got any customers at all tucked in an obscure corner nobody would ever find except if they were lost or happened to live in that particular part of Kiryu. Your typical udon shop, it had a big open cement floor kitchen in back with an area with just a few tables and chairs, and zashiki seating on tatami, two tables of four if I recall correctly. Since he only got a few local regulars at the shop he would also drive his truck around and sell boiled noodles by the bag (500 grams each?) in the nearby neighborhood -- you add your own trimmings and sauce. 500 yen bought you a generous portion of firm, delicious, hand-cut noodles.

A few years ago I asked Mineo to teach me how he made udon and he was more than happy to. Of course he makes it look so easy but it isn't easy at all. I had his recipe for udon broth written down at home in original form, huge proportions that makes several liters of the concentrate that you dilute and use.

The noodles themselves are just flour (udon-ko is very finely ground and I expect high protein white flour) with salt and enough water to knead. You mix it, knead it, let it sit for hours, knead some more, sit, knead and roll out and cut. Most of the kneading is done with bare feet: put the dough in a plastic bag and stand on it left-right-left-right back and forth for awhile. even well kneaded, it's rolled flat with a long wooden dowel about an inch thick on a floured wooden surface. The technique rolls up the flattened dough around the dowel and then by rolling stretching the dough to the desired thickness. Finally you pile up the sheet of dough folding it back and forth and back and forth and then cut it evenly into noodles.

Mineo showed me a few batches and also how he boils the noodles in big vats of hot water in the shop, but I never attempted to follow his method. He has so much experience that he makes it look easy yet of course it isn't easy at all.

Mineo was always happy to drop off some noodles for dinner when my mother-in-law ordered some. And almost every day while he was healthy he dropped by an had tea and spent time mostly just listening to her talk because he knew she needed company and that somebody should be looking in on her. He hardly ever said anything about himself, preferring to sit and have tea and just listen to others who always had plenty to say.

I hope Mineo has found peace and tonight I am thinking of all that he gave so unselfishly.