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Hi, This is muchi.

I had soba for the first time in a while.

There’s a popular soba place near my home, but somehow I’d never actually gone. Then one day I happened to walk by and the line was unusually short, so I finally decided to give it a try.

I ordered their lunch-only set: a sukiyaki rice bowl with soba. The soba came as cold seiro style—the kind you dip into mentsuyu before eating. There were other menu items that caught my eye, but when something says “limited to 10 servings,” isn’t it only human to order it?

Both the soba and the bowl were excellent. And yes, I know this is considered bad manners in many parts of the world, but the satisfaction of slurping soba is unbeatable. If you’re in Japan, I truly want you to slurp your soba—and ramen—with enthusiasm.

But this time, what stuck with me wasn’t just the food. The restaurant was busy, so I ended up sharing a table. Sitting across from me was an older man. His look was simple, but his accessories and shirt were clearly high-end brands—tasteful, not flashy—and he had this subtle “not an ordinary person” aura. Even though he made a fairly detailed order, it was smooth and confident. And the way he ate… I don’t have the knowledge to explain it properly, but I could tell: this is absolutely what a true connoisseur orders. In Japanese we might call that kind of vibe iki—stylish, refined, effortlessly cool. He ate exactly like that.

In any country, I’m sure there are people who order local food in a particular way—specific phrases, specific combinations, specific timing—that makes you think, “Yeah… this person knows what they’re doing. They’re the real deal.” That thought crossed my mind during lunch, and it made me want to hear stories like that from all over the world.