Ah So Moments

There is a cluster of gift shops and food concessions near the elevator that takes you to the base of Kegon Falls. Ouiser, who had visited Kegon Falls several months ago, mentioned fish sticks as we were strolling in that direction. "What an odd thing for her to remember" flashed across my mind in the seconds remaining before we reached the market area.  Is there anything more mundane than fish sticks?  Why would I want to buy one?  Who over the age of eleven would want to eat one?

Oh! Or better yet Ah so!  Here's a food-on-a-stick we didn't spot at the Minnesota State Fair.

The youngest member of my family owns a hat like the man is wearing in the picture. That hat is one of the more frivolous purchases we've made in the past several years. I've rarely bought a hat that I didn't later regret. Maybe this one will be the exception. Maybe he can cover it in plastic and wear it as an umbrella.

There was a calendar conflict today that I spent way too much time resolving. The JAW ladies gathered at Tadodai House at the same time the Shonan ladies made holiday decorations out of broken blue-and-white pottery at the community center. I decided to attend the latter, a smaller group where absences are more noticed, but woke up sneezing and coughing. The little boy next door is sick today also and stayed home from school. We sat next to each other in the flu shot clinic the day before yesterday. Ah so. I sent my regrets to the Shonan ladies, felt sorry for myself for a few minutes, then spent the morning knitting Christmas gifts for unsuspecting relatives.

I had expected to be sharing a picture of a pottery wreath today. Fish sticks are probably more interesting. Things always have a way of turning out for the better.

I Could Get Used to Eating Like This

Le Normandie is a traditional French restaurant on the fifth floor of the new section of the Hotel New Grand. We bowed regally to the waiters as the maitre d' ushered us across the room to a window table offering an awesome panoramic view of Yokohama's harbor.

Matsuzaki-san encouraged us to try the Japanese curry.  While we waited for our food, she shared photographs taken when she lunched in the same restaurant in the early 1950s.

Matsuzaki and her great-grandfather

I envy her possession of this photograph. Why don't I have one of me with my great-grandfather?

With her mother on a terrace that no longer exists.

Japanese curry is served with an assortment of condiments: pickled cucumbers and radishes, chutney, fried onions, coconut, pearl onions, etc. I placed little spoonfuls along the side of my plate but Fearless heaped her relishes on top of her curry. Fearless is not an ironic nickname.

All six options on the dessert cart looked scrumptious. Matsuzaki-san suggested we each order a different dessert to share with each other. We made Fearless choose the three desserts. This sort of decision is sheer agony for Matsuzaki and me.

When the waiter heard of our plan, he offered to divide the desserts for us. That turned out to be a great idea since the size of the portions he placed in front of us were larger than we expected.

The raspberry and cream sauce was an unanticipated bonus.

The week after next, Matsuzaki-san, Fearless, and I are going to Kanazawa for two nights to see the famous landscape garden, Ninja temple, and old samurai quarter. Something tells me we'll be eating well on that trip!

Plum Blossoms at Kai-raku-en

High on a hill overlooking the town of Mito in Ibaraki Prefecture, one hundred kilometers northwest of Tokyo, there's a plum orchard shouting, "Do not despair!  Spring will soon be here!"

More than 3,000 ume (plum) trees have been planted here since 1841.  Kairakuen, one of the three most acclaimed gardens in Japan, was the brainchild of Tokugawa Nariaki, the ninth Lord of Mito.  Kairaku means "to share pleasure with people" and one of the significant aspects of this garden is that it was always meant to be shared with the common folk rather than reserved for the nobility's enjoyment.

We meant to visit Kairakuen on February 15 but a dusting of snow that morning scotched that idea. Thank God for that snowfall since postponing our adventure for a week landed us in Mito during the annual Plum Festival.

Where there's a festival, there is always festival food.  The paths leading to the garden were littered with vendors offering all sorts of tasty treats. Alas, there were not any potatornadoes to be found, but a fried beef cutlet and plum-flavored ice cream consoled my taste buds. 

Steel yourself. You'll be seeing at least three more posts somehow related to Kairakuen.

(Almost) Too Cute to Eat

Reiko ushered me into a wonderful bakery in Kurihama after we hiked through Flower World. I was fixing dinner that night for a family with a new baby, so I decided to get the Hello Kitty and Pikachu buns for the older siblings. Not that I ever need an excuse to buy baked goods . . .

Matt polished off Totoro before I could dream up a way to ship it to Totoro's fans in Norfolk or Peoria. The baker makes cartoon character buns in every size imaginable. I'm searching for an excuse to order a 10" x 12" Totoro. Matt doesn't seem very enthused about a Totoro graduation party so maybe we'll have to plan a special homecoming celebration for the Ancient Mariner.

Yet the bakery was not the day's culinary highlight. That prize goes to the noodle shop in the Kurihama station where Reiko treated me to slurpy ramen, the freshest gyoza that's ever danced across my taste buds before melting in the back of my mouth, and a mango dessert with a pleasant texture somewhere between jello and pudding.

Between slurps, I quizzed Reiko on gyoza sauce. This was a self-serving conversation since the three miniscule sauce packets the department store clerk tucks into my box of gyoza in the department store basement do not begin to cover my 18 dumplings.

Reiko makes her own sauce from three ingredients: soy sauce, vinegar, and rayou. Rayou is a Chinese oil infused with chili peppers. Subsequently I learned that Dr. T dips his gyoza in a homemade sauce concocted from soy sauce, vinegar, and sesame oil.

I'll try making my own sauce soon but not before we polish off the bottled gyoza sauce Reiko found for us in a grocery store. The bottled sauce combines Reiko's recipe with Dr. T's. Yum.

Inhaling Wisteria and Yakisoba

Go bury your nose in the nearest wisteria even if it means climbing a barbed wire fence and facing down a Doberman. Assuming you survive the Doberman, you will thank me for this advice. (And if you don't survive the Doberman, I'll be consoled knowing that thoughts of me were among your last.)
Today's adventure took us to the village of Koshigaya, about 90 minutes and just one train transfer north of Yokosuka. Hisaizu-jinja Shrine was our specific destination and we had no trouble finding it. We just followed the trail of wisteria along the canal bank. Sniff, sniff, sniff, sniff. Aaaaaah.
Like many bridges in this country, the bridge we took across the canal was a work of art. Many manhole covers are works of art too. The people who work on neighborhood revitalization at the Department of Housing and Urban Development ought to try to sneak more whimsy into public projects in our country . . .

While we're wending our way to Hisaizu-jinja, I'll share some snippets from my guidebook, "A Flower Lover's Guide to Tokyo" by Sumiko Enbutsu.

In 1837, nearly 200 years ago, a rice farmer named Kawanabe Kunizo moved a 50-year old wisteria by boat from a village 20 kilometers away and planted it at Hisaizu-jinja shrine to express his gratitude to a famous scholar, Hirata Atsutane, who shared his extensive knowledge about classical literature with area farmers on his frequent visits to the shrine.

The shrine itself, which sits within a sacred forest of pine and cypress, is believed to have been founded in the 12th century.

Kawanabe planted his wisteria on the edge of a pond. We'll stroll to the other side of the pond in a minute to get a panoramic view.

Let's see what the trunk of an almost 250-year old wisteria looks like. Pretty much what I expected. How about you?
Oh, the view from across the pond is quite lovely. The only problem is I can't smell the wisteria from over here. Sniff, sniff. The scent is too delicate to carry this far. Sniff, sniff. I am starting to look like a Mississippi bloodhound tracking an escaped convict through a swamp.
Check out the miniature shrine on the tiny island in the middle of the pond. Egad! Shades of Shomyo-ji, there are at least two dozen turtles piled up on the left side of that island. I think I'll admire the festive lanterns instead and follow them to the food stalls along the path to the shrine. The food stalls and lanterns only appear when the wisteria is blooming. This is my lucky day!
Look at that enormous lantern! How can I give my readers an idea of the size of that thing? Oh, good, that lady is trying to get her two little dogs to pose in front of the lantern. Now you can see that it's definitely larger than your average lantern.

This is where I was going to insert the obligatory group picture but my pants look really stupid with my shoes so you'll just have to use your imagination.

Time for lunch. Would anyone care for a fishstick? I thought not. For the first time in my life, I tried yakisoba. Remember how Goldilocks tasted Baby Bear's porridge and she ate it all up? That was me and the yakisoba. Then we couldn't help but notice Jane moaning as she nibbled on a pancake shaped like a hockey puck so we all got one of those for dessert. They were piping hot, filled with custard, and really did taste like pancakes.

My only regret is that I talked myself out of tucking my knitting into my bag when I set out this morning. The trains weren't nearly as crowded as we were warned to expect by the official Navy Know-It-All(s) so I could have added an inch or two to my sock-in-progress. And Mary Beth could have borrowed one of my needles to poke the drunk who sprawled next to her between Tokyo and Koshigaya.

Honto Comical

Gundam is a Japanese anime (cartoon show) that premiered in 1979. This summer a life-size replica was erected on the Tokyo waterfront to celebrate Gundam's 30th anniversary. According to Matt, our resident expert on contemporary Japanese culture, the month long display was so successful plans are now in the works to replicate Gigantor.

Most of our American friends here have been underwhelmed with a giant robot that just stands there and belches smoke every half hour. We are easier to please. There wasn't an admission fee, the park was lined with booths hawking festival food (the Japanese equivalent of county fair food), and, since Matt wanted a rare photo of all three of us, Mike and I had the chance to see our kid bow politely and engage an older Japanese man in conversation. In Japanese no less. Their exchange distracted me from my mission to try a potatornado - a spiral-cut potato fried on a skewer and available with and without powdered sugar - so I'll be frequenting festivals until I track down that booth.

The company that created Gundam, Bandai Entertainment, is also responsible for Super Sentai, the concept behind Power Rangers. Matt and I, also known as Billy and Kimberly, both have fond memories of the Power Rangers. While "researching" this post, we learned that there is a Bandai Museum in Mibu, Tochigi, about three hours northwest of Yokosuka by train. This has all the earmarks of another great mother-son adventure.

But first things first. Our Unaccompanied Baggage shipment has reached Japan and will be delivered to our house next Monday. Just thinking about being reunited with my computer is making me giddy. Matt and Mike feel the same way about a guitar and bicycle.