Maybe it’s a good thing that I am not very adventurous when it comes to exotic foods, because otherwise this post would be endless. Japan is full of weird food. Things that aren’t actually food, but that they insist on eating. But for every gross fermented bean sushi roll, there is something delicious to balance. For my sake, I will stick to describing the good memories.
The first dinner was one of my favorites: shabu shabu. Margie makes the Chinese equivalent sometimes, so I was familiar with the process. Basically, the table has a big pot of boiling broth, and they just bring out a platter of raw meat and vegetables. That might sound simple, but when no one at the restaurant speaks English, it is hard to order, even at a restaurant with one thing on the menu. Anyways, I guess it is the same idea as fondue. I love it because it forces you to eat slowly and I think it is delicious.
We fell into a tourist trap when we had dinner at the restaurant where the Kill Bill bloodbath was filmed. Not the biggest fan of the food, but they had some delicious dry ginger ale. Our waiter was Cuban and spoke perfect English, which would have been great if I was at a Cuban restaurant in Florida. Oh well.
I had “DeNiro’s Favorite” at Nobu: black cod with miso. I saw some people order it at other restaurants, and it always looked good. I also had a wasabi cocktail, which turned out to be really tasty and interesting. Dessert was unreal. Chocolate souffle is pretty common, but this was the best I have ever eaten. I wish I knew what was different about it, but it looked about the same as the one I made on Valentine’s Day. Instead of a ramekin, it came in a bento box, but it had vanilla ice cream and raspberries on top, just like mine. Maybe if I make it in a bento box instead, it will magically become delicious next time.
For one meal, we went to a tempura restaurant. This was another do-it-yourself place, but instead of a pot of broth, they bring a pot of hot oil. First, you dip your meat or vegetable skewer into some batter, then fry it. I didn’t really care for it, but it was fun. Well, it was fun until I got splattered in the face with hot oil. That put a damper on the meal.
The Japanese give a whole new meaning to food courts. Underneath all of the major department stores, there is a whole bustling civilization of food vendors and buyers. But here’s the crazy thing: none of them are eating! They are surrounded by delicious food, but there are no tables anywhere. Apparently it is frowned upon to eat in public in Japan. It was so awkward to be the lone eater in a sea of people so disciplined that they could wait to bring their food home to eat it. I felt like such a glutton.
Alana and I were on an ongoing quest for mochi on the trip. When I think of mochi, I think of the balls of ice cream wrapped in mochi that you can get at Trader Joe’s. In Japan, the mochi selection is much wider than flavors of ice cream. The favorite mochi pairing seems to be red bean paste, which caught me off guard, but eventually grew on me. I still prefer the ice cream filling, but it was fun to really dig deep to the roots of my mochi love.
The family took a cooking class together in Kyoto that was a lot of fun. We made sesame spinach salad, tempura, sushi, and miso soup. They are all very simple to assemble, but the preparation is laborious! Making sushi rice, for example, takes effort. Susan wanted to know if you can just use Uncle Ben’s, and the answer, if you are also wondering, is no. For some reason, even the miso soup in Japan is better than at Japanese restaurants in America. So now I can make a full Japanese meal, but honestly I think I would elect to go out rather than go through that whole process again.
Another night, we went to a Korean BBQ restaurant where you grill your own meat. The more I think about it, I am beginning to realize that we did most of our own cooking while we were in Japan, even thought we weren’t aware of it at the time. No wonder you’re not supposed to tip.
Some of our meals had a fixed menu. Those were pretty amusing, because we couldn’t read the menu. None of us had any concept of how much food was on the way. Five courses into the meal, as we are packing up to leave, and they suddenly bring in another dish. Try to leave again, and the next course comes. What’s worse, Japanese waiters don’t bring the check before you ask for it, so you really never know when the meal is over.
Save the best for last. A stone’s throw from the Tokyo fish market is a row of tiny hole-in-the-wall sushi bars. They are barely wide enough for the chefs, customers, and a skinny waitress to scoot by. But this is the most fresh and delicious sushi you can possibly imagine. I am finally convinced that the Japanese know how to make sushi. Peter had the opportunity to sit next to some businessmen who were on their way to work (remember this is at 6 in the morning) and took him under their wing. They trained him in the ways of the Samurai. First, they bought him a Samurai roll, which looked spicy. Then he polished it off by throwing back a nice morning sake. Best way to start the day!
Final notes: the McDonald’s Teriyaki McBurger is just a normal hamburger soaked in teriyaki sauce and covered in mayonnaise. Sushi on a conveyor belt is about what you would expect. Fried dumplings are better than steamed, and also easier to pick up with chopsticks.
For Easter, my mom sent me a big box of treats. The contents included a three-ounce bar of chocolate called Mo’s Dark Bacon Bar. The front of the box simply says, “Applewood smoked bacon, alderwood smoked salt, dark chocolate.”
