The noodle is thick and soft. It runs to about three times the diameter of ordinary udon, and boiling it from fresh takes close to an hour. It has no bite at all. You do not so much chew it as let it come apart in the mouth, which is either the point or the problem, depending on where you grew up.

There is no soup. A small quantity of dark tare, made from tamari soy sauce with kelp, dried fish, mirin and sugar, is stirred through the noodles at the bottom of the bowl. It looks almost black and tastes sweeter than it looks. You mix, and keep mixing.

The origin usually given is agricultural: farmers here milled their own wheat, made noodles, and dressed them with the tamari that collected on top of the household miso. When the Edo period brought pilgrims to the Ise shrines in enormous numbers, shops appeared that kept a pot on the boil permanently so that a bowl could be handed over at any hour.

One explanation for the softness is that it was made kind to the stomachs of people who had walked a very long way. The absence of firmness is not a failure here. It is the job the noodle was given, and comparing it with the udon of other provinces does not get you very far.