Original subtitles

Every nation

has its own noodle

lying at the heart

of so many iconic meals.

It's just a few simple ingredients

that can be magically transformed.

This is a story

about one of the world's most comforting foods.

No one knows what first inspired

the making of noodles

or where on Earth it first happened.

Many believe it all started in the East

in China 4,000 years ago.

The stretching of dough into strands.

An idea that would travel

the trade routes of the world.

One enduring legend

is that the explorer, Marco Polo,

returned to Europe

from the court of Kublai Khan,

carrying with him the secret of the noodles.

Although Italians insist that pasta

is their own invention,

what we know for sure

is that all these cherished noodle dishes

owe their legacy to families.

Recipes passed down through generations.

Meals that remind us of home.

Every noodle has a tale to tell.

And this is the story of soba

and a mother named Mutsuko.

She was taught to make soba noodles

by her grandma in Japan.

Now she takes pride in sharing this meal

with a new generation.

Mutsuko begins

by grinding tiny seeds of buckwheat

into flour.

Just as her grandma once showed her,

she grinds slowly,

careful not to generate heat

between the millstones.

This would damage buckwheat's delicate flavor.

For many Japanese families,

the making of soba noodles

is a ritual,

each step treated with reverence.

This centuries-old dish is so much more

than just a list of ingredients.

To understand it,

you have to unravel a story

of family and tradition.

You have to go back to the beginning

to the land.

In the shadow of the Japanese Alps

grows the world's most famous buckwheat.

Its secret?

The waters that come from these mountains.

As the last snows of winter melt away,

ancient rivers and streams reemerge.

And in the spring,

these powerful currents

extract nutrients from the land.

These mineral-rich waters

flow into the fields of Nagano.

Generations have worked this land

and treasured this soil.

This little buckwheat

is deceptively named.

It's actually an herb,

one that grows and blossoms

in less than 40 days.

It's almost as if

it snows twice in Nagano

during the winter,

and once again in the spring

when the fields of flowering buckwheat

turn white.

Buckwheat loves water,

and Mutsuko has learned to sense

just how much it needs.

Just as her grandma taught her,

she works with intuition and patience.

Waiting for that tell-tale feeling

in her fingertips.

Every sweeping motion of her hands

is like a wave

that knows just where to rise and fall.

This is a special step

in Mutsuko's process.

It's called kikuneri.

As she molds the dough,

she creates overlapping petals

that form a flower

that has deep significance in Japan.

A chrysanthemum.

Chrysanthemums have a curious connection

to buckwheat.

Both are symbols of good fortune

and a long and happy life.

But neither originated in Japan.

They were brought here by monks

who traveled the lands of Southeast Asia.

Long ago, Buddhist monks

journeyed east from India,

across the vast plains of Myanmar

through China to Japan.

They brought with them scriptures

and teachings.

But it wasn't just wisdom they shared.

They carried the seeds of chrysanthemums

and grains of buckwheat.

As they traveled,

they created temples

where they gave out gifts to the poor,

bowls of buckwheat porridge.

As the centuries passed,

this gift of buckwheat

would be completely transformed

by the Japanese

into wondrous strands

of soba noodles.

For Mutsuko, rolling out the dough

is like her own personal meditation.

She could use a machine of course.

But for Mutsuko, good soba

is all about making a connection to the dough.

When the dough is almost paper-thin,

it's time to slice the noodles.

Each strand is just millimeters wide.

But soba must also be long.

They say each single noodle

promises a long and healthy life.

The subtle, Earthy flavors of soba

are so revered

that these noodles

are often cooked and served very simply...

On their own.

During the colder months,

noodles around the world

are eaten in warm and savory soups.

Noodles of all shapes and sizes

are so often found

in our favorite winter dishes

with aromas that conjure the comforts of home.

Jewish chicken noodle soup,

the age-old cure for the common cold.

Minestrone,

the heartiest of peasant soups

from the cold Italian hills.

Even the word "noodle"

was born in soup.

The Germans created it

to describe the floury dumplings

they serve in a winter broth.

Mutsuko has prepared a broth,

and is now ready to share her grandma's legacy

with a new generation...

Her daughter.

Within each savory mouthful

are the hidden ingredients

of every great family recipe:

The moments that bring us together...

The traditions of the past...

And the gifts of the land.