The lunch of champions

Since I've been living in Japan I've become a big fan of soba - buckwheat noodles in English. Not only are they healthier than other noodles, they're also a damn sight tastier - think of the difference between wholemeal bread and bleached white economy bread and you'll get the idea.

They're also a lifesaver if you're a vegetarian, since many of the soba meal options available come without meat or fish, which is a rarity in this famously vegetarian-unfriendly country. [Speaking of which, on Sunday I ordered a Hawaiian pizza without meat and it arrived covered with bacon, which apparently doesn't count as meat in Japan. It's not the first time that's happened either...]

At lunchtime I often go to the local convenience store and buy a bowl of soba for my lunch, and there's usually a pretty good selection to choose from. Most of them have tare (a weak soy-sauce) as their base, and this is variously combined with wasabi, daikon (Japanese radish), crispy rice or spring onion.

However, when I was in SunKus the other day I stumbled across an absolute beast of a soba dish. For the princely sum of 430 yen this lunchtime delight, known as Tsukimi Tororo Soba, comes with everything, from wasabi to yams to partially-cooked egg. Just putting all the (individually-wrapped) ingredients together took up a good proportion of my lunch hour, but it was worth it.

I bring you... THE LUNCH OF CHAMPIONS.

Verily, 'tis a mighty, mighty, plastic-wrapped giant of a midday meal.

STEP 1 - The giant is disassembled: ingredients to be added on the left; lovely, delicious, healthy soba on the right.

STEP 2 - The tororo paste goes on, which is made of mashed up yams. It actually tastes quite nice, despite having the texture of baby sick.

STEP 3 - Mmmmm, wasabi. Gosh darn I love wasabi. Whatever, you do though, don't put it in your eyes. Though I'm sure none of you were thinking about doing that anyway. But just in case you were, don't.

STEP 4 - Now the cucumber. Ah, cucumber, thou watery, no-taste vegetable! The filling of choice for vicars' sandwiches across the British Isles, yet in salad terms a perennial second place to the mighty tomato. I pity thee, cucumber.

STEP 5 - The negi (spring onion) is added. "But what about your onion breath?", I hear you cry. I say, "Have you smelt the pickled cabbage that the guy next to me is eating? His breath could fell a horse."

STEP 6 - The seaweed goes on next. It's not a proper Japanese dish if it doesn't feature seaweed in some way, shape or form.

STEP 7 - Time to pour on the soy sauce. There's enough here to drown a small bird.

STEP 8 - Crack open the cold, runny, partially- boiled egg: Edwina Currie please look away now. Salmonella-tastic I say.

Finally, after a quick stir, the preparation is complete. Behold the King of Lunchtime Convenience Food! And lo, he saw that it was good, and it did pleaseth him.

Of course, the down side to this behemoth of a lunch is the waste - all this packaging for just one bowl of soba; even the egg comes polythene-wrapped. How can something be so bad when it's so delicious...? I'm so confused.