The Story of Not Being Able to Go to an Udon Shop Alone

It was the day my son had a half-day at school.
As I lifted him into the back seat of my bicycle, I asked, "Would you rather go to a cafe or an udon shop?"

If this were my eight-year-old daughter, she would have likely answered "A cafe!" immediately, almost cutting me off, but my son chose the udon shop.

We currently live in the "Udon Prefecture."
There are several udon shops just within walking distance. I decided to go to a self-service udon shop I had been to before with my mom friends.

I looked at the standing sign placed in front of the shop.

"What was that called again? Um, the cold one."
"Zaru udon?"
"That's it!"

While I debated between that and the kama-tama udon, I ended up choosing the meat udon, as I always do, anytime and anywhere.

Perhaps because it was just before 1:00 PM, it was a bit emptier than usual.

First, I picked up a tray. From behind the counter, a young man squinted his eyes and said, "Welcome!"

"One serving of zaru udon, cold... no, just one, and..."
"Would you like seaweed on it?"
"I want seaweed!"

My son answered. It's rare for him to be okay with condiments.

"Coming right up!"

With a thud, a slightly thin serving of udon on a bamboo mat and an empty cup were placed down.

"This is the dipping sauce."

(???)

"Um, and also... one serving of meat bukkake udon, cold..."

"Coming right up! And the meat, too."

I thought I would get the meat at a different spot, but it turned out to be a style where you wait right there.
I was stopped and had to go back. My face flushed hot.

I pick up a pair of disposable chopsticks for the tempura. Holding a square plate, I cast my eyes over the line of fried foods.

"What about tempura? A croquette? A sweet potato?"

"I think I'll go with the sweet potato. Where is it? I'll pick one!"

I check to see if there are any customers behind me. I feel like I shouldn't be dawdling, but fortunately, the next person is still ordering at the counter with the young man.

"The sweet potatoes are freshly fried!"

An old man calls out to me from the back of the counter.

"Pick a big one and we'll share it."

As he says this, the old man points to two sweet potato tempura with his tongs and asks which one I want. My son points to one.

"This one is a bit puffy. The eggplant will be fried soon too, don't you want some?"

"Oh, n-no, I'm fine."

I say that, then take the only remaining soft-boiled egg tempura and place it next to the large sweet potato.

A little further along, there is a sign that says "Bukkake." It was placed next to a silver machine that looked like a drink dispenser.

"Oh, is this it?"

I timidly slide an empty cup under the machine and pull the lever. A black liquid comes out with a hiss of steam.

"Wait, is this hot...?"

As I continue along the lane, I find it.

"For cold bukkake"
"For cold kake"

(Oh, so this was the one.)

I have no choice, so I keep the piping hot broth for myself and prepare a new one for my son. I was nervous because I didn't really understand the difference between them.

I finish paying. Many shops give out snacks or candies when you have a small child with you. My son accepted them, looking thrilled.

It wouldn't all fit on one tray, so I handed my son the square plate with the tempura on it.

"Sorry, could you go sit wherever you like?"

When I said that, he held the plate carefully with his two small hands, looking around while being mindful not to tilt it or let it slip. A look of confusion appeared on his face.

I told him to put it on a nearby table, and after I finished paying, I headed over there too.

We still couldn't eat yet.

I went to get water and forks. For my own udon, I chose tempura flakes and lemon from the condiment corner set up like a buffet.

And so, we finally began to eat.

My five-year-old is a picky eater. Perhaps because we came to Kagawa before he was old enough to remember, udon is his favorite food.

He used to be a "bukkake udon" fan, but lately he's been obsessed with "zaru udon." It seems he enjoys being able to dip the noodles in the sauce himself and control how much he eats.

He skillfully twirled the udon onto his fork, dipped it in the sauce, and slurped it up.

I poured the hot, steaming broth over my udon. The meat seemed to be boiled slices of pork belly. It was quite filling. As I continued eating, my stomach started to feel heavy.

A mom who moved to Kagawa from another prefecture once said, "I don't know which udon is delicious, but you'll eventually learn which udon is bad."

I don't know if this udon is particularly delicious either. However, I thought it was certainly not bad.

The udon at the shop I usually go to has a lot of chewiness. You have to chew it thoroughly before you can swallow it, so I thought the one I ate today was on the softer side.

And the broth is light. The udon at my usual shop has a rich, and also sweeter, flavor profile.

I've been to a few udon shops, and as I've started to understand those differences, I realized I'm becoming a person of 'Udon Prefecture' myself.

After finishing my meal and returning the dishes, I noticed my son standing in the opposite direction of the entrance.

"What are you doing?"

When I asked, my son just shrugged.

"Mom, the exit is this way."

My face grew hot again.

I can go to cafes alone, but going to a self-service udon shop by myself is a high hurdle for me.

(2,000 characters)

No matter how many times I go to a self-service udon shop, I still get nervous. I worry about whether I'm getting in the way of the person behind me, or which broth is which. It's even more so because the system varies from shop to shop.
The systems vary from shop to shop, which makes it even more nerve-wracking.

I can go anywhere alone, like cafes or family restaurants, but only self-service udon shops make me nervous.

I felt like I could write quite a few things just about udon.