Kawagoe, Japan: Finding warmth at Yuno Udon
The lowdown
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A tiny, unassuming udon spot hidden in an alleyway, serving some of the most comforting noodles I’ve ever had. Warm, homely, and exactly what I needed after standing in the freezing cold.
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Believe the best meals come from unplanned finds.
Are happy to wait in line if it means really good noodles.
Need a steaming bowl of comfort food after a long day.
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We had just parked our first-ever rental car, realised how starving I was, and said out loud that I wanted something cosy. A few steps later, I found myself in a queue for this place, with no idea what it was—but something told me to stay.
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The queue may look long, but it moves quickly (at least this was how it was when I was there)
The staff are warm and welcoming, even if you’re dining solo.
The noodles feel like obāchan made them just for you.
We thought Japan would start warming up by now—but the more we wished for it, the colder it got. The more it snowed.
This weekend, we decided it was time for our first training in driving around the country, and somehow, we ended up in Kawagoe. I’d seen people mention it on social media, describing it as traditional and charming, but we did absolutely no research. When we picked up the car this morning, we had no idea where we’d end up before the forecasted snow arrived. Kawagoe came to mind, so we just went for it.
The drive from Tokyo was pretty straightforward. When we finally parked up, I realised just how ravenous I was and craved something warm and soupy. After a quick bite of sweet potato—something Kawagoe seems to be known for—we wandered through an alleyway just as I was saying out loud what I truly wanted. And there it was: a soba place that instantly caught my attention.
My partner is coeliac, so we split up to do our own thing. I decided to queue, standing in the cold for ages, completely unfazed—something in me just knew this was going to be good. While waiting, I pulled up Google Maps to see where I was, and as it turns out, the place was highly rated. Say no more, I’m staying.
Once inside, the waitresses were incredibly warm and welcoming. Even though I was alone, they sat me at a four-seater table, which felt like such a treat. I expected the usual pack them in approach of small, busy restaurants, but this place was the opposite.
Since I’d already studied the menu while waiting in line, I ordered immediately. Not long after, I was slurping a bowl of beautiful udon noodles, slowly thawing my very, very cold soul.
It felt so warm, like obāchan had made it just for me, knowing I was unwell. It felt like home. And in that moment—tucked into a cosy spot, in a quiet little town—I realised I hadn’t felt this happy in a long time.
