On the Matter of the Noodles That Never Decrease at Maki no Udon (Fukuoka)

The basement of the Hakata Bus Terminal is a rather chaotic place.

As you walk through the corridor, a jumble of drugstores, souvenir shops, foreign tourists, and school trip students, a yellow sign suddenly appears: "Kamage Maki no Udon." In front of it, young people dragging suitcases and local office workers are taking out their wallets in front of the ticket machine.

This is that very Maki no Udon, where during Golden Week, the line snakes around the corner of the hallway and continues even further.

I pressed the "Kitsune Udon" button on the ticket machine. Then I also pressed the "Croquette" button. For a 68-year-old man managing his blood sugar levels for diabetes, adding a croquette to udon might be medically problematic, but isn't it also a problematic way to live life to come to Maki no Udon and not order a croquette?

I sat at the counter and waited. Steam was billowing up from the pot in front of me. Through that steam, the ladies were boiling udon at a furious speed. Maki no Udon boasts that they are "confident in their speed," and they really are fast. Less than three minutes after ordering, the udon, served on a gray flat plate, arrived on a black tray.

And next to it, a kettle was placed.

This kettle was the true essence of Maki no Udon.

I looked at the noodles. They were white. Thick. Chewy. On top of them, two large pieces of sweet and savory simmered fried tofu sat with a thud. There was a mountain of chopped green onions. Red powder from shichimi spice was scattered across the surface of the fried tofu.

I picked up my chopsticks.

When I lifted the noodles, they sagged as if unable to bear their own weight. It was that softness peculiar to Hakata udon—fluffy and tender—the exact opposite of the firmness of Sanuki udon. When I put them in my mouth, I hardly needed to use my teeth. They collapsed with a squish between my tongue and the roof of my mouth. In that instant, the umami of the broth spread through my mouth.

The broth is sweet. It is that Kyushu-style sweet broth, likely made with kelp, bonito flakes, and probably shiitake mushrooms. When I bit into the fried tofu, the broth oozed out.

Now it was the croquette's turn.

I submerged the fox-colored fried croquette into the broth without hesitation. The batter soaked up the broth, transforming from crispy to soggy. This moment of transformation is irresistible. The fluffiness of the potato inside the croquette and the umami of the broth merged to create a third flavor. The small bowl of bean sprout namul did a truly excellent job as a palate cleanser in between.

I ate. And ate.

However, the noodles did not decrease.

This is the reason why it is called "magic udon." Because the freshly boiled noodles keep absorbing the broth and expanding, the amount of noodles does not decrease no matter how much you eat. Meanwhile, the broth disappears in the blink of an eye. This is where the kettle comes in. You pour more broth from the kettle. Then the noodles absorb the broth again. It is an udon that is like a perpetual motion machine.

More than 50 years since its founding in 1973. This shop, which started from a noodle factory in Itoshima, only opens branches within a range where they can deliver the broth within an hour and a half from the main store. Every morning, each store manager gathers to check the taste of the broth before it is transported to each location. That is the kind of shop it is. They do not expand nationwide. They do not franchise. They accept variations in taste as "natural because it is a living thing," and they share those variations before opening the shop.

I don't dislike this kind of stubbornness.

I finished eating. My stomach is bursting. It was a slightly excessive amount for a 68-year-old stomach. The thought of my blood sugar monitor crossed my mind, but it was already too late. What is eaten is eaten.

Oh my, oh my.

Slurping udon in the basement of Hakata Bus Terminal while topping it off with broth from a kettle. That act itself has become a part of Fukuoka's food culture.

I decided to worry about carbohydrates starting tomorrow.

Actually, Maki no Udon has a secret menu.
It consists of beef bowls and rice porridge.
These are delicious as well.
I would like beginners at Maki no Udon to give them a try.

#DeliciousRestaurants

A student's note