Cold Soba with Meyer Lemon and Herbs

A Chilly Dinner for Hot Fall Nights

The rest of the country might be excited for cold-weather soups and roasts, but here in California we live in an alternate reality. Last week’s chilly days were just a tease (or “false fall,” or whatever else we’re calling it these days)—today Oakland will be 96°F, hotter than most of our actual summer this year. (Cue the red flag fire warnings.) Like most Bay Area residents, I don’t have air conditioning, so I’m not turning on the stove in the evening if I can help it. Yesterday (only 86°F) I decided to turn to one of my favorite hot weather meals, zaru soba. I boiled the noodles and made a quick dashi-based dipping sauce in the morning, while the weather was still cool; when dinner time came around all I had to do was prepare the garnishes. I thought maybe some of you might want to make use of the recipe later this week, as the heat continues. (If you enjoy this recipe, hit the “like” button to help other readers find it!)

Cold Soba with Meyer Lemon and Herbs

This recipe is a California-inflected version of the classic Japanese zaru (cold) noodles often eaten to combat hot and muggy summers. I first fell in love with these noodles a little over 15 years ago when I was still living in New York and had the amazing opportunity to work with the cookbook author Hiroko Shimbo. I was in a period of limbo—I had left my job at Saveur magazine so that I could move to China but was still waiting on the logistics to work themselves out—and for a few glorious months I got to spend half of every week in Hiroko’s spacious kitchen helping her test recipes for Hiroko’s American Kitchen (which later won an IACP award), develop recipes for a curry restaurant (sadly now defunct), and learn the hows and whys of some of my favorite Japanese dishes. One of the first projects I worked on with her was guide to udon noodles. As part of that work, she showed me how to make proper zaru udon, using a method that works equally well for somen or soba.

The version I made here is essentially the same dish that Hiroko taught me but with a couple of California flourishes: I sprinkled the noodles with lots of herbs and sesame seeds (because my garden is bursting with mint and shiso and green onions—and I always like to add more green and more crunch to my plate) then topped it all off with a generous shaving of Meyer lemon zest from my tree. The result is cool and refreshing with a subtle but noticeable burst of local flavor in each bite.

Serves 4
(with extra dashi for the freezer)

For the Dashi
Five 6” squares of kombu, wiped with a wet cloth or paper towel
1 tightly packed cup katsuoboshi (bonito flakes)

For the Tsukejiru (Noodle Dipping Sauce)
1½ cups dashi (from ingredients above; see method below)
3 tablespoons Japanese-style soy sauce (such as Kikkoman)
1½ teaspoons granulated sugar
¼ cup katsuoboshi (bonito flakes)

For the Noodles
1 pound dried soba (or udon) noodles
Daikon (a medium-sized one), peeled
Fresh ginger, peeled
1–2 scallions
2 green shiso leaves
Small handful mint leaves
1 Meyer lemon (for zest)
Toasted sesame seeds

Make the Dashi

1. Put the kombu in a medium-large pot with 2 quarts of water, bring it to a boil, then immediately remove the kombu from the water.

2. Add the katsuoboshi to the pot and as soon as the water boils again (usually just a few seconds), turn off the heat.

3. Let the everything sit for 2 minutes, then strain out the katsuoboshi (ideally using a cheesecloth-lined sieve).

Make the Tsukejiru (Noodle Dipping Sauce)

1. Measure out 1½ cups of the finished dashi and set it aside (freeze the rest for next time).

2. Combine the soy sauce and sugar in a small pot and heat them on low, stirring occasionally, until the sugar dissolves. Add the katsuoboshi, then immediately turn off the heat.

3. Strain the hot mixture (ideally using a cheesecloth-lined sieve) and refrigerate it to cool.

Prepare the Noodles

Bring a large pot of water to a boil and cook the noodles for as long as indicated on the packaging. (If the instructions are all in Japanese, just look for the character 分, which is “minutes” and use the numbers next to it.)

When the noodles are done, drain them immediately and run them under cold water, massaging them with your fingers, until they are cold. (I refrigerated them at this stage to keep them cold the rest of the day and perked them up with another rinse in the evening.)

Grate a few inches of the daikon and then a couple inches of the ginger, using a traditional oroshigani grater (the kind with really tiny teeth) or the finest side of a box grater; moving the daikon and ginger in circles, instead of up and down on the grater, will give you the finest texture (and break up the fibers in the ginger).

Thinly slice the white and light green parts of the daikon and chiffonade the shiso and mint.

To plate the noodles, gather up a big pinch of soba—about the amount you’d want in a single bite—and set it on a plate, twisting it into a little swirl as you lower it, so you have a little circle of noodles just an inch or so across. Repeat (again and again) until you have a serving’s worth of noodle swirls on the plate. (This way, when you go to grab a bite with your chopsticks, the noodles won’t be tangled and sticking to each other.) Repeat for the remaining three plates.

Sprinkle the herbs on top of the noodles, then add some sesame seeds. Lastly, grate a generous amount of lemon zest on top of each serving.

Divide the dipping sauce between four small bowls and set one next to each plate; put a little pile each of the grated daikon and ginger in a saucer next to the sauce (ideally without much of their liquid).

To eat your noodles, season the dipping sauce with some of the daikon and ginger, then scoop up a bite’s worth of soba and drop it into the sauce for a second before eating it. Replenish the daikon and ginger seasoning as you go.

More California Stories and Recipes

If you want to spend the day inside reading and hiding from the heat, you have some good options: the SF Chronicle has a look at the state of Korean food in the Bay Area; KQED has a fun piece about the history of Andante Dairy (where each cheese takes inspiration from a style of music); and Paola Velez over at Fresca has a lovely little ode to a friendship—along with an amazing-looking recipe for arroz con leche trifle full of passion fruit, coconut milk, and almond whipped cream.

For more cooling recipes, check out Craving California’s overnight oats or pick up Bebe Carminito’s new book, The Curated Board, which offers a whole collection of dinner ideas that are all about assembling things on a tray rather than sweating over a stove.

Photo: Georgia Freedman