'Tis the season for Christmas analogies. On the first day of December I wound my way round downtown Kyoto, hoisting and reining in my umbrella because the weather couldn't make up its mind. At the first inn I called upon there was no room; I went to a second inn and was met with the same response. I took off for another part of town. Thankfully central Kyoto is small enough that you could throw a cat and it would land in a restaurant. At the third inn, I met with the same response: "No room." Is it because I . . . hadn't made any reservations? Yes.
It was pushing nearly 2 p.m. when I found a welcome seat with some strangers at Aji-Zen, a few minutes' walk south of Shijo Station on the Karasuma subway line. Aji-Zen is marked by a rather strange entrance: a (fake) stone arch more suited to "The Flintstones" or Universal Studios Japan.
As you enter you'll see the "soba factory," a small workshop sealed off behind glass. The master was not at his station on my visit, but his wife told me that he has been making soba for 30 years and has written a book on his craft. Later on I learned that the rolling pins he uses were made in collaboration with sportswear maker Mizuno, more famous for making baseball bats, among other things.