During this most auspicious of Japanese seasons, it seems as if just about every kind of food is imbued with momentous import. From the mochi in the o-zoni soup with which the New Year's morning is greeted to the array of colorful but austere o-sechi ryori tidbits, many of these dishes are appreciated more for their symbolism than any out-and-out flavor. But everyone -- at least among the denizens of Tokyo -- likes soba.

Those humble buckwheat noodles carry with them plenty of significance of their own, though. Because of their length as much as any consideration of their nutritional content, they are reputed to be an aid to health and longevity, as well as enduring relations. And, thanks to that well-loved homonym (the word soba also means "near"), they invoke the pleasure of proximity among family, friends and business associates.

So that is why, not just before the end of the old year, but also in the first weeks of the new, it is an indelible custom among traditionalists to drop by their favorite noodle shop to fill the stomach while simultaneously satiating the soul. And nowhere else in the city fulfills that double requirement as effectively as Kanda Yabu Soba.