Why Isn't Soba Chewy? Master Wen's Handmade Udon — He Says Fresh Noodles Are Alive

"Boss! Do you still have udon?" An uncle on a motorcycle paused in front of "Wen Ji Noodle Making Workshop," stuck his head in and shouted, "Sorry, uncle! Only two balls of frozen ramen left! Is that okay?" "Hah! Only frozen ones left! Then I'll go home and cook Guandiao noodles first! I'll come find you tomorrow!" And with that, the uncle rode off on his motorcycle in a cloud of dust.

Stepping into the "Wen Ji Noodle Making Workshop," hidden away in an alley in Tainan, China, the first thing that hits you is the shock of huge bags and bags of flour stacked on the shelves. Following the shelves slowly downward, you see one professional noodle book after another — "The Complete Book of Udon," "A Bowl of Good Noodles," "Udon, Ramen, Soba" ... and then jar after jar of unhusked wheat and buckwheat. "This unhusked buckwheat will still grow if you plant it!" says Wen Yuzhe, the master of Wen Ji Noodle Making Workshop, dressed in a dark blue Japanese-style work uniform with his hair tied up in a bun. He squints with a smile and points to a buckwheat plant with a few small white flowers in a flowerpot outside the door. "It'll probably set seed after the New Year!" Master Wen is only thirty-two years old, yet he carries the soul of a craftsman.