There are several noodle vids out there, but I was most transfixed by this one.

There's something hypnotic about this.

There's something hypnotic about this.

In a discussion I recently had with a co-worker, we proposed what could be the most annoying dinner:

Appetizers:
Unshelled walnuts and immature almonds.

Main Course
Grilled artichoke and fresh lobster.

Dessert
Unseeded Pomegranate

That's the type of dinner where the calories you expend just trying to get at the food will factor into the overall calories consumed.

As I walk around various markets in Seattle and places beyond, I have this urge, this desire to seek out the new and the odd. Sometimes my discoveries border on the grotesque, other times I can be shocked to find things that I like. Yes, I may claim that I am a culinary traditionalist. But the reality is that I adore the novelty found in foods.

It's easy to dismiss novelty. Whether it's a hamburger smacked between two grilled cheese sandwiches,Cookie Dough flavored Kit Kat Bars, or eating a durian fruit, some might see these activities as nothing more than culinary stunts.

But novelty in food has a long and storied tradition. If one were to replace the phrase "quest for novelty" with "searching for new tastes", then it becomes easier to see how this behavior has always been prevalent amongst us homo sapiens. It's what has allowed our tastes to change over the course of millenniums. The search for new tastes has introduced both cilantro and kiwi into the mainstream, two tastes almost unheard of in American culture twenty years ago. And let's not forget salsa, which has quickly become one of, if not the most popular condiments on the market today. Thirty years ago it was virtually unheard of in the northern parts of the United States. What caused these tastes to embed themselves into our consciousness? Someone, somewhere was willing to take a risk and try something new, liked it, and then passed it on to their friends.

Novelty means different things to different people as well. For some it means searching out the exotic. For others, it means trying that new flavor of Corn chips. Food corporations know novelty as well. The recent trend in classic candy bars to try new flavors has been based on the idea of introducing new flavors into a relatively conservative marketplace, and seeing what sticks. While Pina Colada Almond Joy may not have been a hit, Mint 3 Musketeers (which is excellent, btw) may soon find itself staying on the shelves. Granted, dark chocolate and mint is hardly a new flavor combination, but historically speaking, getting candy companies to commit to anything new is novel in of itself.

Not all novel ideas are good. Not all foods need to be deep fried, nor do we really need add bacon to everything, although I am still intrigued by cinnamon and bacon. But the fact that people are willing to try these things should speak to all of us. Try new things. Take chances. Admit to yourself when things are horrible, and when they are good. Then share your results with the rest of the class. Whether you head to that Ethiopian restaurant downtown, purchase a mango, or buy the new flavor of Pepsi, it matters not. Find what works for you.

These crocs don't belong to Mario Batali, although he does visit the restaurant. No, these red plastic clogs belong to Samuel Hybels, the chef/owner of Samuel's, a classic bistro in Suttons Bay, Michigan.

During my travels, I've eaten at high-end restaurants that made me so worried about which fork to use I couldn't enjoy the meal, and holes in the wall where waiters slapped down delicious food with all the charm of Dr House. But I knew I was going to like everything about Samuel's the moment Hybels explained his approach to running a restaurant. "I overlook a gas station," he says. "I have to be better at the table."

And by "table" he means not only the food, but also the service. I've moaned about how overlooking details can ruin an otherwise good meal, and Hybels ensures his customers, and all the little details, are looked after.

With this in mind, Hybels hires "food geeks" who "get" food. He turned down a server with decades of experience in favor of one who had never waited on a table. Why? When asked where they would take the chef for dinner (money being no object) the career server said, "Red Lobster or The Olive Garden." And the newbie? The answer, "Tapawingo or I'd cook for you myself," earned him a job. This gamble paid off. Samuel's offers a rare balance of professional yet unpretentious service.

While the linens are crisp and the wait staff immaculate, Hybels puts taste above looks. He turned these uneven heirlooms

into this...

He also puts taste above labels. The balsamic drizzle isn't an outrageously priced aged vinegar, but a flavorful reduction of a good quality generic brand. Hybels says reducing the vinegar by half caramelizes the sugars and increases the vinegar's flavor. Well, actually he says to keep reducing it "until you can't stand it anymore." Apparently the fumes "can put you on your knees." But so can the finished dish.

By now the heirloom tomatoes are gone and Hybels has moved onto the fingerling potatoes. As autumn moves to winter he'll adjust the menu, sliding towards slow roasted comfort foods, some of which require 72 hours stove time.

When I asked for the recipe for his carrot-ginger soup and his lemon-basil risotto, Hybels openly shared his technique but couldn't provide quantities. He works without a specific recipe."You go through the kitchen and see what you have, what comes to mind."

His willingness to work with classic pairings has inspired me to return to the classics. I'm still working on getting the right amount of ginger in my soup and balancing the basil with the lemon. And when I do. I'll share my recipe. After all, had I been applying for the server position, my answer would have been, "I'd cook for you."

Before I can move into the realm of Japanese noodles, I have to lay the foundation for them by offering up (and hence, explaining) the soup in which they can be served.

The Japanese use dashi as the base for different types of soup much like folks in the Western world use chicken, beef, or vegetable stock. As Wikipedia notes: "Dashi forms the base for miso soups, clear broth soups, Japanese noodle broths, and many Japanese simmering liquids." Without dashi, the soups named above would be something else.

A typical dashi uses kelp and bonito flakes, but other dashis (and there are several varieties out there) can use dried sardines or mushrooms.

What are bonito flakes you ask? Dried tuna shavings is the short answer, and I have to admit to being a tad bit taken aback in their use. But I overcame my cultural filter fairly quickly and used them with little problem. When people state that Miso soup is not vegetarian, it is the bonito flakes that they are referring to.

Both kelp (called konbu) and bonito flakes (hana-katsuo) can be found in any friendly neighborhood market that serves the Asian population. However, many instant varities of dashi are out there. But as I made my own (and have the kelp smell in my kitchen to prove it), I cannot speak to their quality.

I have no picture of the Dashi. You can presume one of two things. A) Pictures of clear broth is as interesting as a photograph of a plain white wall. or B) I forgot to take a picture before using the dashi in something else of which I did take a photo.

This recipe comes from the book Japanese Cooking: A Simple Art by Shizuo Tsuji.

• 1 qt. cold water (plus an additional 1/4 cup)
• 1 oz. dried kelp
• 1 oz. bonito flakes

Place the cold water and the kelp in your soup pan. Heat the water, uncovered, to 200-210 degrees F. (The book suggests cooking the kelp in heated water close to, but not, water's boiling point). Cook the kelp until you can break the fleshiest part of the kelp with your thumbnail. This should take between 10-12 minutes.

Remove the kelp, and pour in the additional 1/4 cup of water. Immediately add the bonito flakes. Allow the stock to return to a full boil. Once full boil is obtained, remove the stock from heat immediately. Allow the flakes to settle on the bottom of the soup pan. Filter off any foam, and then strain the flakes out of the stock.

Voila! Dashi!

NOTE: If you want to make a dashi called Niban Dashi, save the used bonito flakes and kelp.

Serves 6, but really, use it as stock for other dishes