The last time we were at Shimbashi Soba was earlier this year. They were doing a limited run of their freshly-made yuzu soba, and we just managed to catch it on the evening before it ended.
We thought that our next visit there would only be a year later, when they bring back their oishii yuzu soba. What we didn’t predict was for them to launch another seasonal soba offering, this time using shiso.
During our vacation in Seoul, The Wife became obsessed with kkaennip. During our meals there, we had it as often as possible. And whenever we ran out, which was always, she would shyly ask for an extra serving, which would also be wiped out.
So, in addition to coffee and yuzu, The Wife is now officially also addicted to kkaennip. Since Japanese shiso is a close cousin to Korean kkaennip, I knew that resistance was futile.
It also didn’t hurt that I enjoy shiso, and while they’re often used as a garnish in Japanese restaurants, I always end up eating them. They help cut the richness of nama uni and are especially tasty with ika sashimi.
This time, we decided not to leave it to the very last day and trooped down to Paragon shopping centre a few weeks after they started their seasonal offering.
Shimbashi takes pride in the fact that their soba noodles are freshly made. They showcase it by having their chef mix, roll and cut the dough behind a glass wall facing the main corridor. It’s done several times throughout the day, and we were lucky enough to catch him in action as we arrived.
After confirming that the shiso soba was available, we were ushered in. Co-incidentally, we were seated at the very same table that we occupied the last time.
In addition to having the chilled Shisokiri Seiro as-is (served with mentsuyu and various toppings), the noodles were also featured in a couple of other dishes. Unfortunately, the Ebiten Chirashi and Ontama Tororo didn’t look particularly attractive to us.
Luckily, and similar to the last time, there was an option to add S$2.00 to any other chilled soba set to replace the noodles with the shisokiri seiro. We enjoyed the tempura set that we shared previously, and decided to order one upgraded set each.
We’ve found it a challenge to find decent quality, value-for-money tempura in Singapore. But despite Shimbashi being a soba-focused restaurant, their tempura set is surprisingly good.
Served with the classic prawns, pumpkin, sweet pea, shitake, nasu and nori. Nothing particularly fancy, like tamago onsen or anago, but all the items were fresh and crispy.
It was a wasted opportunity not to add at least one deep-fried shiso leaf for any upgraded tempura set though. Just as an extra touch to highlight the key ingredient, with only a tiny incremental cost.
On the off chance that the folks at Shimbashi Soba read this post, perhaps it’s something you could consider the next time you run the shiso soba promotion? I know that I, for one, would appreciate it.
Without good lead actors and actresses, a good supporting cast can only bring a show so far. Thankfully, there was nothing to worry about, because the shisokiri seiro put in a fantastic performance.
Even before taking a bite, the sight of the shiso flakes and the gentle scent of their distinctive fragrance were enough to trigger our tastebuds. We had our first mouthful of noodles without any dipping sauce and the unique shiso flavour was unmistakable.
A little bit goes a long way, and I have to say that the chef mixed in just the right proportion of shiso to buckwheat flour so as not to overwhelm its pleasant nuttiness.
Next, I chucked in all the chopped negi into the mentsuyu dipping sauce, placed a small blob of wasabi on some noodles and dunked it into the sauce. After letting it sit for the briefest of moments, I fished everything out and executed an enthusiastic slurp.
Yes, it’s the polite thing to do when having soba, and also how the locals do it in Japan.
Really.
The flavour of the mentsuyu completely overwhelmed the shiso-ness of the noodles, and I had to calibrate subsequent dunks to achieve a happy balance.
Between having the soba as-is and dipping it gently into the sauce, the former option was more oishii, but alternating between the two modes was quite enjoyable.
It didn’t take long for us to finish every last strand of the shisokiri seiro, and we were presented with a container of the sobayu used to cook our noodles. We diluted our mentsuyu to make a warm finishing broth that was a perfect ending to our satisfying meal.
Shimbashi Soba is our go-to place in Singapore whenever we have a craving for buckwheat noodles, and so far, it hasn’t disappointed.
Their usual noodles are nice in a simple bowl of yuba-topped hot kitsune soba, but it’s the limited edition flavoured seiro soba that we particularly enjoy.
The yuzukiri seiro is already quite delicious, but after trying out the shisokiri seiro, both The Wife and I agree that it’s even better. You can be sure that we’ll be back again the next time it makes a repeat appearance.
