Last night I had one of the spiciest dishes I’ve had in a long time. Except it wasn’t Japanese, it was Thai. One of my co-workers is married to a Thai woman and they recently celebrated the birth of their first child. His wife wanted to give birth in Thailand so that her parents could help out after the birth. He’s been in Thailand the past three weeks but returned on Sunday. I invited him out for a celebratory dinner and he decided on a Thai restaurant. I asked him whether he really wanted to have more Thai food especially after being there for the past three weeks but he said it was okay and knowing my penchant for spicy foods, he wanted to take me to a restaurant that his wife said served really authentic Thai dishes.
The restaurant was called Chao Thai in Shibuya but it’s really a chain of Thai restaurants. They had a very extensive menu and also offered set course meals which looked really good but my co-worker insisted we order multiple dishes from the menu. We started off with Po Pia Sod (Springs Rolls) and Tod Man Pla (Spicy Fried Fish Cakes). The Fish Cakes had some heat to them but, had I known what was to come, I would rate their overall heat as “Sissy”. We then stepped up the heat level with a spicy vegetables dish consisting of a Chinese green vegetable that had hollow stems and sliced chilis. Very spicy and very good. The vegetables were followed by a mixed seafood dish and a green curry with chicken (one of my favorite dishes). The mixed seafood also had sliced chilis and I was starting to feel the heat. My co-worker than asks if I’ve ever had Papaya Salad. I’ve heard of it but never ordered it. He insists we get it and says it’s incredibly popular in Thailand. He orders it “Thai-style” which sounded ominous but since my co-worker is the same one who took me to the Chinese red restaurant discussed in the first “Spicy Food In Japan” blog, I’m “assuming” it’s not going to be that hot. You know what happens when you “assume"............you get the sensation of lava being poured into your mouth against your will. That dish was so f’ing hot but it didn’t hit you immediately. This one lulled you into a dull stupor by first giving you the taste of sweet delicious papaya and then when your guard was down the freakin’ chilis kicked you in the gonads followed by the oh-so-enjoyable sensation of licking a red hot poker from a flaming fireplace. My face was red and tears were streaming from my eyes. I had to eat more of the green curry to cool down. After having the Thai-style Papaya Salad, the green curry tasted sweet and had no heat whatsoever. My co-worker was equally red, which looks even funnier on a Japanese person, and his forehead was one big sweaty mess. After I cooled down from the initial assault, I looked at the dish more closely and realized that the chilis used in this dish were the very small Thai chilis or what’s often called Bird’s Eye Chilis. The chilis from the earlier dishes were more likely a Jalapeno-like chili. The difference on the Scoville Scale is that the Thai chilis can easily be twenty times as hot as the Jalapeno. No wonder I was on fire. Oh, and if you think we wussed out and stopped after the first helping, you’d be wrong. We finished the damn dish but after the first wave, your mouth and face feel like they melted away so the pain is irrelevant at that point.
Monday, August 31, 2009
Thursday, August 27, 2009
I English Speak Good
Last night I happened to have dinner with a visiting U.S. co-worker and relayed a story that happened in May that I have not yet blogged about. He found it very amusing so I thought I would share in the blog.
My apartment has two restaurants in the building although they’re both part of the same restaurant called Sakura (Cherry Blossom). Although the first floor restaurant is a pretty sad affair (it doubles as the breakfast room in the morning), the VIP Lounge on the Penthouse floor (24th) of the apartment is very nice with a limited menu. So one Friday night in May I found myself bored and looking for something to do so I decided to go and visit the VIP Lounge. I figured it might give me a chance to meet some of my fellow apartment dwellers and I knew there were quite a few Westerners, including Americans, staying at the apartment complex. I entered the lounge around 8:30 PM and there was not another soul, other than myself, in the bar. Sad, very sad. I sat down at the bar anyway and after about ten minutes the bartender/waiter/busboy/chef appeared. Although he didn’t speak English it was easy enough to order a beer (Belgian Hoegaarden at $10/bottle, pretty typical). After trying to talk with the bartender/waiter/busboy/chef for a few minutes, he signed for me to wait and disappeared. A few minutes later he returned with the Manager and we performed a formal introduction.
A quick side story before I continue. Formal introductions are very important in Japan especially with respect to business. Business cards, therefore, are treated with the utmost respect. When you first meet someone in business, you hold the card with two hands and while bowing formally present the Japanese or English side depending on their expected language preference. You clearly pronounce your name and then let them know what you expect them to call you. Since the Japanese have trouble with the letter “v” in my last name, I always tell them to just call me Craig. They will always add “-san” on the end which is the equivalent of “Mr/Mrs/Miss” so I’m called Craig-san or Mr. Craig. The other person will then formally present their card and you are to take it with two hands and carefully read everything on the card and especially their title. If it’s in Japanese, you pretend to read it. The card must be treated very respectfully. You shouldn’t write on the card or stuff it in your pocket or make an origami animal (although cool) from it.
So as I made my formal introductions with the Manager, I learned that her name was Nahomi-san (Mrs. Nahomi). She spoke very little English but through a combination of her broken English, my broken Japanese and simple hand signals, I learned she briefly lived in Montreal with her husband who is a chef and I explained a little of my background and family. We carried on a broken conversation for another thirty minutes or so and then, amazingly, someone else joined us in the lounge. The third person was an Indian gentleman and after briefly speaking to him I learned he was a computer consultant temporarily in Japan supporting a contract for a telecommunications company. Here’s where the fun starts. After Nahomi-san formally introduced herself to the Indian gentleman, she asks him, in English, “What would you like?” The Indian is looking at her like she has two heads. I realize he couldn’t understand a word she said not because he didn’t speak English but because he couldn’t understand her accent. So I “translate” which in this instance was to repeat exactly what Nahomi-san said. “Oh, I see” said the Indian. “I’d like to see a menu”. Now it’s Nahomi-san’s turn. She looks at him and then at me. Same situation. Although she understands some English, she can’t understand his accent. Craig the parrot to the rescue. In English, I tell Nahomi-san he wants to see a menu. “Ahh”, Nahomi-san mutters. She quickly provides an English-language menu to the Indian. I have a feeling at what’s coming next since I’m familiar with the menu and there are almost no vegetarian items on it other than a few vegetable side dishes but certainly not enough for a meal. The Indian asks Nahomi-san if the chef could make him a stir-fry of just rice and vegetables. Once again, she looks at him and then at me. I dutifully repeat. “This is getting ridiculous”, I’m thinking. “You’re both speaking English!”
“Daijoubu”, Nahomi-san says which is slang for “No problem”. Off she goes to the kitchen and I tell the Indian she understands. He says to me, “I’m glad you’re here, I don’t speak Japanese.” “Neither do I”, I tell him. “She’s speaking English to you.” With all seriousness he looks at me and says “You’re kidding me!” The rest of the Indian’s dinner proceeded as before with me “translating” English to English between the two of them. Eventually the Indian left to go back to his apartment.
I was still drinking and talking with Nahomi-san. Once she knew the Indian gentleman wasn’t around, she says to me, “What room are you in? If he comes back another night I’m calling you up to translate for me. I couldn’t understand anything he said!”
If my current job doesn’t work out it looks like I might have a second career as an English translator. “So I got that goin' for me, which is nice.”
My apartment has two restaurants in the building although they’re both part of the same restaurant called Sakura (Cherry Blossom). Although the first floor restaurant is a pretty sad affair (it doubles as the breakfast room in the morning), the VIP Lounge on the Penthouse floor (24th) of the apartment is very nice with a limited menu. So one Friday night in May I found myself bored and looking for something to do so I decided to go and visit the VIP Lounge. I figured it might give me a chance to meet some of my fellow apartment dwellers and I knew there were quite a few Westerners, including Americans, staying at the apartment complex. I entered the lounge around 8:30 PM and there was not another soul, other than myself, in the bar. Sad, very sad. I sat down at the bar anyway and after about ten minutes the bartender/waiter/busboy/chef appeared. Although he didn’t speak English it was easy enough to order a beer (Belgian Hoegaarden at $10/bottle, pretty typical). After trying to talk with the bartender/waiter/busboy/chef for a few minutes, he signed for me to wait and disappeared. A few minutes later he returned with the Manager and we performed a formal introduction.
A quick side story before I continue. Formal introductions are very important in Japan especially with respect to business. Business cards, therefore, are treated with the utmost respect. When you first meet someone in business, you hold the card with two hands and while bowing formally present the Japanese or English side depending on their expected language preference. You clearly pronounce your name and then let them know what you expect them to call you. Since the Japanese have trouble with the letter “v” in my last name, I always tell them to just call me Craig. They will always add “-san” on the end which is the equivalent of “Mr/Mrs/Miss” so I’m called Craig-san or Mr. Craig. The other person will then formally present their card and you are to take it with two hands and carefully read everything on the card and especially their title. If it’s in Japanese, you pretend to read it. The card must be treated very respectfully. You shouldn’t write on the card or stuff it in your pocket or make an origami animal (although cool) from it.
So as I made my formal introductions with the Manager, I learned that her name was Nahomi-san (Mrs. Nahomi). She spoke very little English but through a combination of her broken English, my broken Japanese and simple hand signals, I learned she briefly lived in Montreal with her husband who is a chef and I explained a little of my background and family. We carried on a broken conversation for another thirty minutes or so and then, amazingly, someone else joined us in the lounge. The third person was an Indian gentleman and after briefly speaking to him I learned he was a computer consultant temporarily in Japan supporting a contract for a telecommunications company. Here’s where the fun starts. After Nahomi-san formally introduced herself to the Indian gentleman, she asks him, in English, “What would you like?” The Indian is looking at her like she has two heads. I realize he couldn’t understand a word she said not because he didn’t speak English but because he couldn’t understand her accent. So I “translate” which in this instance was to repeat exactly what Nahomi-san said. “Oh, I see” said the Indian. “I’d like to see a menu”. Now it’s Nahomi-san’s turn. She looks at him and then at me. Same situation. Although she understands some English, she can’t understand his accent. Craig the parrot to the rescue. In English, I tell Nahomi-san he wants to see a menu. “Ahh”, Nahomi-san mutters. She quickly provides an English-language menu to the Indian. I have a feeling at what’s coming next since I’m familiar with the menu and there are almost no vegetarian items on it other than a few vegetable side dishes but certainly not enough for a meal. The Indian asks Nahomi-san if the chef could make him a stir-fry of just rice and vegetables. Once again, she looks at him and then at me. I dutifully repeat. “This is getting ridiculous”, I’m thinking. “You’re both speaking English!”
“Daijoubu”, Nahomi-san says which is slang for “No problem”. Off she goes to the kitchen and I tell the Indian she understands. He says to me, “I’m glad you’re here, I don’t speak Japanese.” “Neither do I”, I tell him. “She’s speaking English to you.” With all seriousness he looks at me and says “You’re kidding me!” The rest of the Indian’s dinner proceeded as before with me “translating” English to English between the two of them. Eventually the Indian left to go back to his apartment.
I was still drinking and talking with Nahomi-san. Once she knew the Indian gentleman wasn’t around, she says to me, “What room are you in? If he comes back another night I’m calling you up to translate for me. I couldn’t understand anything he said!”
If my current job doesn’t work out it looks like I might have a second career as an English translator. “So I got that goin' for me, which is nice.”
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Lost In Translation
Prior to reading this blog, you may want to read the last section of the Politically Incorrect Tokyo Observations blog. It’s definitely relevant to the following blog.
Last weekend was a pretty busy sightseeing and souvenir shopping weekend. One of the souvenir shops I had planned to visit was the Oriental Bazaar in Harajuku. You may also remember that Harajuku is the area I refer to in the Sunday Freak Show blog. I visited Harajuku on Saturday which is the less busy day and it was still packed with people. I made my way through the crowds and found the store which was only about three blocks from the train station. Great store, a lot of touristy type items but decent quality and a great selection. Some of the items I was looking to buy were kimonos and yukatas. A yukata is a cotton kimono usually worn in the summertime but also used in the onsens. I was looking to buy a kimono for Ellen and a yukata for myself. One nice thing this store offered was both metric and English measurements but the measurements were only listed for the polyester and cotton kimonos. For the silk kimonos, there was no measurement. They had several hanging on the wall and they all looked like the same size but I wanted to be sure. So looking around the room, I saw a store employee working the area. The employee was a young guy, probably early twenties, with dyed blonde, spiked hair which is not that uncommon in Tokyo and especially in Harajuku. He saw me approaching and I asked him, “eigo wo hanase masu ka” (Do you speak English?). In a clear American accent and lacking any masculine tones, he says “Yessssssss”. Dom Deluise’s Director-character Buddy’s line, from Blazing Saddles, immediately comes to my mind, “Sounds like steam escaping”.
I ask for help with the kimonos and he “sashays” over to the kimono section.
The following is our conversation:
ME: Do the silk kimonos come in various sizes?
HIM: No, it’s only one size. Do you want to see the length?
ME: Sure. I’m interested in this one.
He takes the kimono off the wall.
HIM: Is this for a man or a woman?
ME: [Thinking to myself] Why would he ask that? Aren’t these all women’s kimonos?
ME: It’s for a woman.
HIM: [Sounding disappointed] Hmmm.
HIM: How tall is she? Is she taller than me?
ME: No, she’s just a little shorter than you.
HIM: [All excited] I’ll try it on!
He proceeds to slip on the silk kimono.
HIM: What do you think?
ME: [Being a wise-ass] It looks good on you.
The above was clearly “Lost in Translation” or he just didn’t care.
HIM: I know. I love silk against my body.
He’s rubbing the sleeves against his arms.
HIM: Do you want it?
ME: I’ll take it.
I pause and thinking more about his comment, I clarify
ME: Yes, I’ll take “the kimono”.
He continues to rub the kimono against his body.
ME: I think I’ll take this one here [as I proceed to take a different one of the wall] Thanks for the help.
HIM: [Sounding disappointed again] Okay.
You gotta love Harajuku.
Last weekend was a pretty busy sightseeing and souvenir shopping weekend. One of the souvenir shops I had planned to visit was the Oriental Bazaar in Harajuku. You may also remember that Harajuku is the area I refer to in the Sunday Freak Show blog. I visited Harajuku on Saturday which is the less busy day and it was still packed with people. I made my way through the crowds and found the store which was only about three blocks from the train station. Great store, a lot of touristy type items but decent quality and a great selection. Some of the items I was looking to buy were kimonos and yukatas. A yukata is a cotton kimono usually worn in the summertime but also used in the onsens. I was looking to buy a kimono for Ellen and a yukata for myself. One nice thing this store offered was both metric and English measurements but the measurements were only listed for the polyester and cotton kimonos. For the silk kimonos, there was no measurement. They had several hanging on the wall and they all looked like the same size but I wanted to be sure. So looking around the room, I saw a store employee working the area. The employee was a young guy, probably early twenties, with dyed blonde, spiked hair which is not that uncommon in Tokyo and especially in Harajuku. He saw me approaching and I asked him, “eigo wo hanase masu ka” (Do you speak English?). In a clear American accent and lacking any masculine tones, he says “Yessssssss”. Dom Deluise’s Director-character Buddy’s line, from Blazing Saddles, immediately comes to my mind, “Sounds like steam escaping”.
I ask for help with the kimonos and he “sashays” over to the kimono section.
The following is our conversation:
ME: Do the silk kimonos come in various sizes?
HIM: No, it’s only one size. Do you want to see the length?
ME: Sure. I’m interested in this one.
He takes the kimono off the wall.
HIM: Is this for a man or a woman?
ME: [Thinking to myself] Why would he ask that? Aren’t these all women’s kimonos?
ME: It’s for a woman.
HIM: [Sounding disappointed] Hmmm.
HIM: How tall is she? Is she taller than me?
ME: No, she’s just a little shorter than you.
HIM: [All excited] I’ll try it on!
He proceeds to slip on the silk kimono.
HIM: What do you think?
ME: [Being a wise-ass] It looks good on you.
The above was clearly “Lost in Translation” or he just didn’t care.
HIM: I know. I love silk against my body.
He’s rubbing the sleeves against his arms.
HIM: Do you want it?
ME: I’ll take it.
I pause and thinking more about his comment, I clarify
ME: Yes, I’ll take “the kimono”.
He continues to rub the kimono against his body.
ME: I think I’ll take this one here [as I proceed to take a different one of the wall] Thanks for the help.
HIM: [Sounding disappointed again] Okay.
You gotta love Harajuku.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
I've Met My Match
As readers of this blog may have surmised by now, there’s not much I won’t try food-wise. And usually, my stomach doesn’t bother me afterwards so whether it’s eels, sea urchins, fugu or a jalapeno cheeseburger, no problems afterwards. Not this weekend. I finally met my match.
Dinner on Saturday night was, in order, Beer, Ox Tongue, Shark Fin & Noodle Soup and Blue Liquor. You may be thinking, “Well, Ox Tongue and Shark Fin Soup aren’t that unusual.” In fact, some people reading this blog may even have tried these culinary treats. But I guarantee that you’ve probably never had them served the way I experienced them on Saturday. You see, those were all ice cream flavors. Yes, that’s right, ice cream courtesy of Ice Cream City in Namjatown.
A few weeks ago when I joined my co-workers for dinner at Namahage, I knew that the restaurant served raw horse (basashi). I decide to learn more about this Japanese delicacy and my subsequent Google query brought up an entry for basashi ice cream that was served at Ice Cream City so of course I needed to visit this unique attraction.
Last Saturday I boarded the Yamanote train and after thirty minutes arrived at Ikebukuro station. Ice Cream City is a section of an indoor theme park called Namjatown which itself is located inside a mall called Sunshine City 60 in an area of Tokyo called Ikebukuro.
Ice Cream City within Namjatown has about five or six ice cream stations where you can try Turkish pulled ice cream, Europrean-style gelato, or visit the Cup Ice Museum. It’s the Cup Ice Museum that I made my way to as they have hundreds of ice cream flavors all served in little cups that are about 4-5 ounces in size. A typical cup sells for about $4.00 but the most expensive flavor was caviar at $16 for a four ounce container. I walked around the Cup Ice Museum coolers for quite some time before finding the “alcoholic” ice cream flavors. Where else do you think I would start? The Beer-flavor caught my attention immediately and since my Japanese dinners have always started with a beer, why break from tradition? I sat down, popped the lid off and on the top was some salted nuts. Beautiful. This was my favorite flavor of the night. Japanese beers are not overly hoppy so the ice cream flavor met my expectations. If you’re thinking beer-flavored ice cream is disgusting, have you ever had an Ice Cream “Malt”? Think about it and you’ll realize that those flavors can work well together. If only I had stopped there I would have been a happy man. But greed and curiosity got the better of me. I next grabbed the ox tongue-flavor. Mistake #1. How bad could it be? When I popped the lid off, I knew right away something was NQR (Not Quite Right). There were small chunks of beef tongue riddled throughout the ice cream and the ice cream itself had a strange off-white color to it. My tongue (the human kind) was probably still a little frozen from the beer-ice cream so the first few spoonfuls didn’t quite get the flavor across. Mistake #2, I then made the error of letting a large spoonful of the ice cream melt on my tongue. Imagine enjoying a nice cool creamy treat (the ice cream base itself was okay despite the off-white color) and then suddenly your taste buds experience a shocking splash of juicy beefy tongue. Mmmm. The brain struggles to comprehend what is occurring. Mistake #3, for some dumb reason I finished the whole cup. Immediately my stomach started churning a little bit revolting at what I had just eaten. Did I quit then? Hell no, that’s for amateurs and intelligent people. Mistake #4, I actually bought a bottle of water not to clean the taste out of my mouth but to cleanse the palette so I could better taste the next ice cream. Mistake #5, for some stupid reason I went with Shark Fin & Noodle Soup-flavor next. When I removed the lid, on the top was what I assumed was some kind of candy concoction. It wasn’t candy. I don’t know what it was but it wasn’t candy. After eating the topping and about half the cup, I had enough. I don’t know whether it was the fishy cartilage taste or the cold slimy noodles but this wasn’t a winner. Just writing this blog now and thinking about those flavors is causing me to fight back the bile in my throat. Mistake #6, to finish the meal I decided to have an after-dinner drink flavor (Blue Liquor). It seemed logical at the time. I assumed “Blue Liquor” was going to be Curaçao, the bitter orange liqueur of the Caribbean or Blue Triple Sec which is also an orange-flavored liqueur. Truthfully, it may have been this but I certainly didn’t taste orange in the ice cream. Frankly I didn’t taste much of anything at this point other than a slight alcohol taste. It could be that after four months abusing my taste buds in Tokyo, they committed suicide en masse.
Nonetheless, those four unique flavors made for an interesting train ride back to my apartment. I was breaking out in cold sweats the whole way home and for me this is usually a prelude to a good projectile vomiting session. I used every mental distraction technique I could think of to get my mind off of the feeling in my stomach and not launch on the train. Many Japanese already think most gaijins are disease-carrying creatures as it is. I’ve watched them try to furtively apply a face mask if I get too close to them on the subway so you can imagine their reaction if I started spewing cold, milky, tongue-chunky fluid around the train. Actually, that sounds like a great “Jackass” bit but since I’m just days away from freedom and not wanting to be quarantined, I did everything I could to hold it in. My stomach settled down as I walked back to my apartment and even though it was only about 6:30 PM, I actually crashed on my bed for an hour just to further let the feeling pass. Luckily I was able to sleep through the worst of it but the rest of the night and for most of the following morning, my stomach did not feel right. Cool and horrible experience all at the same time.
Mistake #7, I’m probably going back this weekend. I never said I learn from my mistakes. There are way too many freaky flavors that I want to try. Here’s a list of some of the other unique ice cream flavors that were being offered at the time of my visit. The ones in blue are the ones I’m most interested in trying:
Ice Cream City
Adzuki Beans
Avocado
Blue Liquor
Buckwheat
Caviar
Cheese Risotto
Chicken Wing (not Buffalo)
Crab
Deep Seawater (?)
Eel
Eggplant
Fish Sauce
Flat Wheat Noodle
Garlic
Garlic & Mint
Grated Yam
Health Food (lots of veggies)
Indian Curry
Miso Noodle
Natto (Fermented Soybean)
Octopus
Old Taste (WTF?)
Ox Tongue
Potato & Butter
Powdered Pearl (most popular)
Rose
Saké
Sea Urchin
Seaweed
Shark’s Fin & Noodle
Shochu (Barley Liquor)
Shrimp
Soy Sauce
Soybean Flour
Squid
Squid Ink
Sunflower
Tofu
Tomato
Tulip
Viper (Mmm, snake)
Wasabi
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Minor Tokyo Annoyances
Well, here I am back in Japan. But this is a short trip and potentially my last. I return to the U.S. on Sept 3rd but I’ll have a few more blogs before then for everyone’s amusement.
Today I figured I would spout off on a few little minor annoyances with living and working in Tokyo.
Beware Decorative Marble!
The National government of Japan and the local Tokyo government are constantly warning the average citizen and tourist about various dangers. You hear and see these warnings everywhere you go. As an example, on the subway there are posted signs warning you of getting stuck between the doors when they close. Not that the door would crush you as they don’t close that quickly and they also automatically spring back when they encounter resistance. However, the Government still wants to make sure you’re aware of the danger (or lack thereof). My understanding of the warnings is that the Government truly wants to warn the citizens and not because they’re afraid of litigation. Their society is just not as litigious as the U.S. In most cases, I have no idea how you could possibly be injured by the particular threats the warning notices are conveying. I guess there are idiots in every country that can’t walk and chew nori at the same time. The warnings are not the annoyance however. It’s the lack of warning where there are real threats that are the annoyance. As an example, many office buildings like to decorate the outside plazas of their buildings with marble. But they don’t just put the marble in columns and walls; they actually put marble on the plazas and walkways. I’ve included two examples.
The first photo is taken right outside of my apartment and I’m highlighting the marble in red on both photos. The marble outside of my apartment is used to separate the sidewalk from the plaza area outside the office and apartment buildings. In the second photo, this is the walkway into the Shinagawa Post Office. I’ve highlighted two marbles slabs but you can see the marble goes all the way out to the sidewalk. So what’s so dangerous about the marble? Nothing on a nice sunny day but on a rainy day which is pretty much every day from mid-June through mid-July, these become sidewalks of death. The first time I stepped on a wet marble slab I nearly went flat on my back. The acrobatic maneuver I performed to stay on two feet was quite impressive but I probably did more damage tearing muscles and ligaments than if I had just taken the fall. I now realize that these slabs are probably meant for the amusement of locals.
Enjoying the View?
The men’s room in my one office has floor to ceiling (about 12 feet high) windows. Although there are vertical blinds on the windows, they’re almost never closed so when you use the urinals you use them in full view of a major hotel and two office buildings. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not against public urination as long as the proper amount of alcohol has been applied to my system but there’s just something odd and annoying when you’re stone cold sober. The girls in the office building across the street don’t help when they hold up a score for each of the guys.
Musical Trains
I’ve yet to completely figure this one out. Sometimes when I take the subway from my Roppongi office back to Shinagawa apartment, the train will stop after a station or two and everyone must exit that train, cross the platform and board the next train on the opposite tracks. You do not want to be on these “Last Stop” trains. I’m assuming the trains are going into scheduled maintenance but it’s just frustrating because it typically happens during rush-hour. This happened to me last Wednesday night. When I got on the train in Roppongi, there were not as many people on-board as there usually is. That was my first clue that I might be on the “Last Stop”. Sure enough, as we approached the second stop, everyone began fidgeting and pushing their way towards the doors. Because once the doors open, there’s a mad dash across the platform to the other side. If you don’t get a spot in the front of the line, you might not be able to squeeze onto the first train and have to wait. That’s musical trains and it’s just as annoying and frustrating as the kids game.
Today I figured I would spout off on a few little minor annoyances with living and working in Tokyo.
Beware Decorative Marble!
The National government of Japan and the local Tokyo government are constantly warning the average citizen and tourist about various dangers. You hear and see these warnings everywhere you go. As an example, on the subway there are posted signs warning you of getting stuck between the doors when they close. Not that the door would crush you as they don’t close that quickly and they also automatically spring back when they encounter resistance. However, the Government still wants to make sure you’re aware of the danger (or lack thereof). My understanding of the warnings is that the Government truly wants to warn the citizens and not because they’re afraid of litigation. Their society is just not as litigious as the U.S. In most cases, I have no idea how you could possibly be injured by the particular threats the warning notices are conveying. I guess there are idiots in every country that can’t walk and chew nori at the same time. The warnings are not the annoyance however. It’s the lack of warning where there are real threats that are the annoyance. As an example, many office buildings like to decorate the outside plazas of their buildings with marble. But they don’t just put the marble in columns and walls; they actually put marble on the plazas and walkways. I’ve included two examples.
The first photo is taken right outside of my apartment and I’m highlighting the marble in red on both photos. The marble outside of my apartment is used to separate the sidewalk from the plaza area outside the office and apartment buildings. In the second photo, this is the walkway into the Shinagawa Post Office. I’ve highlighted two marbles slabs but you can see the marble goes all the way out to the sidewalk. So what’s so dangerous about the marble? Nothing on a nice sunny day but on a rainy day which is pretty much every day from mid-June through mid-July, these become sidewalks of death. The first time I stepped on a wet marble slab I nearly went flat on my back. The acrobatic maneuver I performed to stay on two feet was quite impressive but I probably did more damage tearing muscles and ligaments than if I had just taken the fall. I now realize that these slabs are probably meant for the amusement of locals.Enjoying the View?
The men’s room in my one office has floor to ceiling (about 12 feet high) windows. Although there are vertical blinds on the windows, they’re almost never closed so when you use the urinals you use them in full view of a major hotel and two office buildings. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not against public urination as long as the proper amount of alcohol has been applied to my system but there’s just something odd and annoying when you’re stone cold sober. The girls in the office building across the street don’t help when they hold up a score for each of the guys.
Musical Trains
I’ve yet to completely figure this one out. Sometimes when I take the subway from my Roppongi office back to Shinagawa apartment, the train will stop after a station or two and everyone must exit that train, cross the platform and board the next train on the opposite tracks. You do not want to be on these “Last Stop” trains. I’m assuming the trains are going into scheduled maintenance but it’s just frustrating because it typically happens during rush-hour. This happened to me last Wednesday night. When I got on the train in Roppongi, there were not as many people on-board as there usually is. That was my first clue that I might be on the “Last Stop”. Sure enough, as we approached the second stop, everyone began fidgeting and pushing their way towards the doors. Because once the doors open, there’s a mad dash across the platform to the other side. If you don’t get a spot in the front of the line, you might not be able to squeeze onto the first train and have to wait. That’s musical trains and it’s just as annoying and frustrating as the kids game.
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Spicy Food in Japan.....Part 2
I’ve got my name on the wall!
My Japanese co-workers know I like really spicy food. They recently found a curry restaurant (Robinson's) in Shinagawa where you can personally order your heat index. If you order and finish a curry meal with a heat level of fifty or above, they print out a page with your name and comment and pin it to the wall. The first time they went, the hottest they ordered was five but Liu-san, a Chinese co-worker married to a Thai, said it was weak and thought he can handle more. Today we went back to get our names on the wall. There were six in our party, three Japanese and three foreigners (Chinese, New Zealander, and me). The three Japanese all ordered a level five and the three gaijins all ordered a fifty. My lunch was the first one out and the three Japanese were concerned because the color of the stew was red when over here it is normally brown. The chili oil was even starting to pool on top. They watched as I took the first spoonful and although it was spicy, I knew it wasn’t going to be difficult to finish. I’ve had much hotter Indian and Thai dishes. When I come back at the end of August my name should be up by then and I’ll get a photo taken. Plus Liu-san and I are determined to go for 100 as the next level. There were plenty of other higher scores, 100s, 300s, and three people who did 5000, 7000, and 8000. My co-workers all said they must have been drunk to do that. I’ll see what 100 is like and go from there.
My Japanese co-workers know I like really spicy food. They recently found a curry restaurant (Robinson's) in Shinagawa where you can personally order your heat index. If you order and finish a curry meal with a heat level of fifty or above, they print out a page with your name and comment and pin it to the wall. The first time they went, the hottest they ordered was five but Liu-san, a Chinese co-worker married to a Thai, said it was weak and thought he can handle more. Today we went back to get our names on the wall. There were six in our party, three Japanese and three foreigners (Chinese, New Zealander, and me). The three Japanese all ordered a level five and the three gaijins all ordered a fifty. My lunch was the first one out and the three Japanese were concerned because the color of the stew was red when over here it is normally brown. The chili oil was even starting to pool on top. They watched as I took the first spoonful and although it was spicy, I knew it wasn’t going to be difficult to finish. I’ve had much hotter Indian and Thai dishes. When I come back at the end of August my name should be up by then and I’ll get a photo taken. Plus Liu-san and I are determined to go for 100 as the next level. There were plenty of other higher scores, 100s, 300s, and three people who did 5000, 7000, and 8000. My co-workers all said they must have been drunk to do that. I’ll see what 100 is like and go from there.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Did You Ever Notice.....Part 2
Once again, it’s time for a quick trip back to the U.S. so I’ll be taking a short break from the blog. I’ll be traveling back to the States from August 6-16 to see the family. Here are some more observations and stories that don’t fit into any specific blog I may have posted so far.
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The Japanese are terrified of rain.
The moment one raindrop hits the sidewalk, out come the umbrellas and they go into doubletime. Now, I understand why the umbrellas are necessary because some of the downpours are quite significant. That just makes sense but many of the rains are very light, sporadic sprinkles but the Japanese still act like a monsoon is hitting. I always carry an umbrella with me but the moment I realize it’s a light shower, I’ll put it away. They just stare at me and I can tell they’re thinking, “Hey, crazy Gaijin, are you too stupid to realize it’s raining!” This is happening more frequently as we’re coming to an end of the rainy season in Japan. The best explanation I’ve heard so far came from one of my Japanese co-workers who is an exceptionally small guy. As we were walking to lunch one day, a light rain started. I opened my umbrella like the rest of them but put it away when I saw how light the rain was. My co-worker asked me “Are you immune to the rain? Aren’t you getting wet?” When I replied that it wasn’t that heavy of a rain to warrant the umbrella, he replied, “Perhaps you don’t realize the proportion of a raindrop hitting your body versus one hitting mine. It hurts.” F’ing brilliant. That line had me laughing all afternoon.
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Since I’ve been in Japan, I am aware of only two earthquakes that have occurred in the Tokyo area. One occurred while I was sleeping and the other was East of Tokyo and I never noticed the effects even though many people in Tokyo felt it. I will say that a few times a week I do feel the ground move and spin and I will get a sudden wave of nausea that will hit me typically around 10:00-11:00 PM on Friday and Saturday nights usually after I’ve left the Izakaya (Bar). It’s curious that the earthquakes regularly hit around this time.
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Take a look at the following picture. It’s a snapshot of various beer cans that are available in my local supermarket. This isn’t an optical illusion and I didn’t manipulate the photo. From largest to smallest:
Bomber-size (500 ml or 16.9 ounces)
Standard-size (350 ml or 11.8 ounces)
Pony-size (250 ml or 8.5 ounces)
WTF-size (135 ml or 4.6 ounces)!
For what possible reason would you sell a 4.6 ounce beer can other than for some Gaijin to buy and include as a photo in his blog?
------------------
I love Japanese konbinis. A konbini is a Japanese Convenient store and includes chains like 7-Eleven, AM/PM, FamilyMart and Lawson’s. They’re everywhere in Tokyo. I believe there’s a Japanese law that you must have at least one konbini on every city block. In addition to carrying your typical water, soda and iced tea (green, of course), you can get beer, wine and liquor. Many of them actually have a pretty good selection. And, if you’re looking for snacks, they have the standard candy bars but also squid jerky and dried fish. Mmmm, chocolate and dried salty fish, the latest craze soon to be sweeping America. When you’re drunk and got the munchies, you tend to get creative in your snack selection.
------------------
Over the last few weeks I’ve become a regular visitor to my
apartment’s gym on the 24th floor. Don’t jump to conclusions; it’s not what you think. I happened to stumble up to the bar, also on the 24th floor, and accidently turned left into the gym instead of right into the bar. Surprise, surprise, I was still able to get the same end results for a lot less money. Take a look at this snapshot of the gym’s vending machine. As you can see they have energy drinks and healthy green tea but they also sell beer! 220 Yen ($2.30) for a 12 ounce Asahi or 290 Yen ($3.00) for the bombers. That same 12 ounce Asahi is probably $8.00 in the bar. What a bargain. My fellow apartment dwellers aren’t so happy with me since I don’t buy just one and leave. The recumbent bikes are right next to the vending machine so you can plop yourself down on the bike and take a nice leisurely ride with your cold brew(s). One word of advice from experience talking, stick to two or three and then leave. Six or more could potentially result in nausea and regurgitated maguro sashimi is very difficult to clean out of the cracks and gaps of a recumbent bike.
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I forgot to blog about this men’s fashion trend earlier but many Japanese business men wear a style of dress shoes that are easily three to four inches longer than their feet. Here’s a picture of the oversized, square-tipped dress shoe.
The first time I saw this style I was on the subway. I was packed in like a sardine and looking down at the floor and saw what was probably the equivalent of a U.S. Men’s size 13 shoe. I followed the shoe up to the person expecting a six foot and above individual and instead this guy was probably five foot five. When I looked back down at the shoe, you could see where his toes were within the shoe and clearly there was at least three inches of shoe beyond his toes. WTF? The more I started looking around; I started seeing this style of shoe everywhere. Why would short Asian men want to give others the impression that their feet are really bigger than they really are? Hmmm, maybe this is the equivalent of an American man’s sports car complex?
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Back on July 22nd, Asia experienced a major solar eclipse. The best viewing in Japan was down south_1.jpg)
in the Okinawa area. In Tokyo, we were predicted to have about a 75% eclipse. On the day of the eclipse, a co-worker and I headed outside to see if the eclipse would be visible even though it was an incredibly cloudy day. As soon as we walked outside, the clouds parted briefly and I was able to get this quick shot with my Blackberry Storm. I took several shots after that but the first one was the best. Most of my co-workers didn’t get a good shot and my lucky snap became the de facto image passed around the office.
------------------
The Japanese are terrified of rain.
The moment one raindrop hits the sidewalk, out come the umbrellas and they go into doubletime. Now, I understand why the umbrellas are necessary because some of the downpours are quite significant. That just makes sense but many of the rains are very light, sporadic sprinkles but the Japanese still act like a monsoon is hitting. I always carry an umbrella with me but the moment I realize it’s a light shower, I’ll put it away. They just stare at me and I can tell they’re thinking, “Hey, crazy Gaijin, are you too stupid to realize it’s raining!” This is happening more frequently as we’re coming to an end of the rainy season in Japan. The best explanation I’ve heard so far came from one of my Japanese co-workers who is an exceptionally small guy. As we were walking to lunch one day, a light rain started. I opened my umbrella like the rest of them but put it away when I saw how light the rain was. My co-worker asked me “Are you immune to the rain? Aren’t you getting wet?” When I replied that it wasn’t that heavy of a rain to warrant the umbrella, he replied, “Perhaps you don’t realize the proportion of a raindrop hitting your body versus one hitting mine. It hurts.” F’ing brilliant. That line had me laughing all afternoon.
------------------
Since I’ve been in Japan, I am aware of only two earthquakes that have occurred in the Tokyo area. One occurred while I was sleeping and the other was East of Tokyo and I never noticed the effects even though many people in Tokyo felt it. I will say that a few times a week I do feel the ground move and spin and I will get a sudden wave of nausea that will hit me typically around 10:00-11:00 PM on Friday and Saturday nights usually after I’ve left the Izakaya (Bar). It’s curious that the earthquakes regularly hit around this time.
------------------
Take a look at the following picture. It’s a snapshot of various beer cans that are available in my local supermarket. This isn’t an optical illusion and I didn’t manipulate the photo. From largest to smallest:
Bomber-size (500 ml or 16.9 ounces)
Standard-size (350 ml or 11.8 ounces)
Pony-size (250 ml or 8.5 ounces)
WTF-size (135 ml or 4.6 ounces)!
For what possible reason would you sell a 4.6 ounce beer can other than for some Gaijin to buy and include as a photo in his blog?
------------------
I love Japanese konbinis. A konbini is a Japanese Convenient store and includes chains like 7-Eleven, AM/PM, FamilyMart and Lawson’s. They’re everywhere in Tokyo. I believe there’s a Japanese law that you must have at least one konbini on every city block. In addition to carrying your typical water, soda and iced tea (green, of course), you can get beer, wine and liquor. Many of them actually have a pretty good selection. And, if you’re looking for snacks, they have the standard candy bars but also squid jerky and dried fish. Mmmm, chocolate and dried salty fish, the latest craze soon to be sweeping America. When you’re drunk and got the munchies, you tend to get creative in your snack selection.
------------------
Over the last few weeks I’ve become a regular visitor to my
apartment’s gym on the 24th floor. Don’t jump to conclusions; it’s not what you think. I happened to stumble up to the bar, also on the 24th floor, and accidently turned left into the gym instead of right into the bar. Surprise, surprise, I was still able to get the same end results for a lot less money. Take a look at this snapshot of the gym’s vending machine. As you can see they have energy drinks and healthy green tea but they also sell beer! 220 Yen ($2.30) for a 12 ounce Asahi or 290 Yen ($3.00) for the bombers. That same 12 ounce Asahi is probably $8.00 in the bar. What a bargain. My fellow apartment dwellers aren’t so happy with me since I don’t buy just one and leave. The recumbent bikes are right next to the vending machine so you can plop yourself down on the bike and take a nice leisurely ride with your cold brew(s). One word of advice from experience talking, stick to two or three and then leave. Six or more could potentially result in nausea and regurgitated maguro sashimi is very difficult to clean out of the cracks and gaps of a recumbent bike.------------------
I forgot to blog about this men’s fashion trend earlier but many Japanese business men wear a style of dress shoes that are easily three to four inches longer than their feet. Here’s a picture of the oversized, square-tipped dress shoe.The first time I saw this style I was on the subway. I was packed in like a sardine and looking down at the floor and saw what was probably the equivalent of a U.S. Men’s size 13 shoe. I followed the shoe up to the person expecting a six foot and above individual and instead this guy was probably five foot five. When I looked back down at the shoe, you could see where his toes were within the shoe and clearly there was at least three inches of shoe beyond his toes. WTF? The more I started looking around; I started seeing this style of shoe everywhere. Why would short Asian men want to give others the impression that their feet are really bigger than they really are? Hmmm, maybe this is the equivalent of an American man’s sports car complex?
------------------
Back on July 22nd, Asia experienced a major solar eclipse. The best viewing in Japan was down south
_1.jpg)
in the Okinawa area. In Tokyo, we were predicted to have about a 75% eclipse. On the day of the eclipse, a co-worker and I headed outside to see if the eclipse would be visible even though it was an incredibly cloudy day. As soon as we walked outside, the clouds parted briefly and I was able to get this quick shot with my Blackberry Storm. I took several shots after that but the first one was the best. Most of my co-workers didn’t get a good shot and my lucky snap became the de facto image passed around the office.Saturday, August 1, 2009
Fugu You Too!
Another epicureal peak conquered! I have eaten fugu. Unfortunately the view from the summit was not as grand as I would have imagined but there was a hidden gem discovered as will be described in the blog. As many followers of the blog have read, I’ve been “dying” to try fugu or Japanese pufferfish. My co-workers and I finally were able to make a reservation for five at “Genpin Fugu” in Roppongi on Friday night.
We arrived at the restaurant and first ordered a beer. This seems a fairly standard ritual at most of the dinners I’ve been to and you toast each other with “Kampai” and clink glasses. Some rituals are just universal. What surprised me most was that I noticed my hand was shaking a little when we toasted. Now, I’d like to think this was because it was 7:00 PM on a Friday and I’d yet to have a drink. Normally, I’d be six deep by seven but, in truth; I realized I was bit nervous about the meal. Oh sure, the odds were definitely stacked in my favor. This was a fully licensed fugu restaurant and most fugu poisonings in Japan are the result of fisherman eating their catch but, the more I thought about it, this was a really dumb idea. I’d like to think I’m not prone to doing stupid things but this was one of them. But as I’ve said previously in this blog, I’m using my trip to Japan as a way to experience new things and not allow my normally logical mind to stop me
from enjoying these experiences. So when the waiter placed our first fugu course in front of me. I dove right in. The first course was Fugu Skin Sashimi and it’s what I’m eating in the photo to the right. If you think about this for a second, you might realize what the texture was like. The pufferfish, when threatened underwater, can inflate itself with water, until it’s almost spherical in shape. Once it’s no longer threatened, it deflates itself. So the skin is very elastic in nature, almost like a balloon. So as I popped that first piece of Fugu Skin Sashimi in my mouth and bit down, that’s what I thought I was eating…..a balloon. Texturally, it was horrendous and I made sure my facial expressions did not give away my personal feeling. I also noticed a faint, what I’ll call “medicinal” taste on the far back of my tongue near the throat. It wasn’t pleasant or unpleasant, just noticeable. So after much chewing and pondering whether that “medicinal” taste would subsequently lead to muscle paralysis and then death, I completed the first course. One fugu dish down.
But we were a long way off from being completed with the meal. The second course was fugu sashimi
where the meat is sliced very thin. A wedge of lime was provided and was squeezed over the sashimi. The sashimi was then dipped into soy sauce with green onions and radish. I eat sashimi weekly but normally with maguro (blue fin tuna), sake (salmon) and saba (mackerel). I assumed that since the fugu was sliced thinly, it would be tender just as the other types of sashimi are. Nope. It wasn’t as rubbery as the fugu skin sashimi but definitely very chewy. My jaw was going to get a workout tonight (nudge, nudge, say no more squire). Once again, that same “medicinal” flavor was hitting the back of my tongue.
One of my co-workers then suggested we have some saké (rice wine not salmon which is spelled
sake). Of course, we couldn’t have just everyday saké. Instead we were served Fugu Hire-zake or Pufferfish fin saké. The fish fins are deep fried then soaked in some kind of liquid combustible. The fins are then lit aflame and dunked in the warmed saké. They place a lid over the flaming saké cup and after about twenty seconds, you can start to drink. In general, I like saké. But then again, there are very few alcoholic beverages I don’t like. However, I’m not sure placing the lid over the cup before all the liquid combustible is burned off is such a good idea as the first taste was not that of sweet saké. I thought, “Won’t this be ironic if I am poisoned in a fugu restaurant but not by the fish but because of some un-ignited chemical fuelant”.
The third course was a chunky fugu sashimi but this was placed on a piece of Chinese cabbage and topped with a spicy sauce and green onions. This dish I liked a lot and for some reason the fugu wasn’t that chewy. Probably my jaw was numb at this point. No “medicinal”
taste but then again I’m a believer that a good sauce can mask almost any food.
Fourth course was deep-fried fugu. I watched as my co-worker popped a piece of the fried fish into
his mouth and I did the same. Before he had a chance to warn me I bit down and felt something akin to a razor blade slicing into the roof of my mouth. I heard him say “Be careful, you have to eat around the bones”. Why would the restaurant serve chunky (boneless) fugu sashimi but when it comes to coating the fish and frying it, they keep the bones intact?! More amazing still, my co-workers popped chunk after chunk of fried fish into their mouths and would then remove a 3-D jigsaw puzzle-looking bone that was picked completely clean. A little Blazing Saddles Taggart comes to mind: “God darnit, Mr. Lamarr, you use your tongue prettier than a twenty dollar whore”.
Fifth course they brought out a small charcoal grill and cooked up several pieces of fugu similar in size to the fried fugu. The ashes from the grill were floating everywhere, in the dipping sauces, in my saké, even found some in my underwear later on. Don’t ask. Let’s just say I had a lot more Fugu Hire-zake after the first.
Sixth course was fugu hotpot also known as shabu-shabu (“swish-swish”). A big bowl of water was
placed on the center grill of the table and boiled. They then placed a layer of fugu chunks in the bottom, followed by Chinese cabbage, big chunks of tofu, ginger bulbs and mushrooms. While this was cooking up, they provided various cuts of fugu that you quickly dipped (swish-swish) into the hotpot to lightly cook and then dipped in a tangy ponzu vinegar sauce. The flesh portions were similar to the fugu sashimi and a light cooking made them easy to eat. However, my co-workers insisted I try something from another plate which I have no idea what part of the fish it was. I believe it was the egg sac where the roe is held but honestly I am not sure. Nonetheless, it was impossible to eat. I was chewing and chewing but the material just wasn’t breaking down. I eventually had to swallow the item whole. I would liken that experience to the following; imagine if you found a whitish-pink balloon that had been sitting outside all summer in a fetid puddle of water such that the balloon was all coated with a thick slimy layer of scum and little back spots where mold and mildew had adhered to the balloon. Then, since you missed lunch you decided on a little nourishment and popped that elastic morsel into your mouth but rather than having the common sense to spit out, you gnawed and chewed like a wild animal before powering it down like a Columbian drug mule prepping for her trip to America. Mmmm, slimy moldy balloons.
It was during the shabu-shabu, however, that I discovered the hidden gem. In addition to the various ingredients that were added above, there was also a green leafy plant that was also provided for consumption but it wasn’t added to the shabu-shabu while the soup cooked. The diners were allowed to quickly boil these green stalks and then dip in the ponzu and eat. I tried one and it was delicious. There was an initial floral taste to the plant followed by a slight bitterness which was counter-balanced by the sweetness from the ponzu sauce. Fantastic. I asked my co-workers what it was and they said Shungiku. If you’re like me, that meant nothing. My co-worker than used my blackberry to look up the English word and he replied “Garland Chrysanthemum”. Okay, not much better other than knowing that a Chrysanthemum is a flower. But it was still delicious.
After most of the soup ingredients are consumed, they then add rice and eggs to the broth and make Zosui rice. The rice/soup is served with green onions and nori (seaweed) and a side order of Japanese pickles.
And then finally we finished off the meal with some dessert which was a mango ice cream.
Throughout the meal, we primarily drank saké. For the early part of the meal, I was drinking the Fugu Hire-zake. They only light the first cup on fire and after that just refill your cup which I did multiple times. One of my co-workers considers himself quite a saké aficionado so I asked him if he would recommend a little sampling of sakés which he was pleased to do. We tried three different sakés all with the latter half of the meal. I told him I would withhold my comments and rankings until I tried all three that he selected. They served the saké in a tall glass shooter that was placed in a lacquerware box and they overfill the glass so that the lacquerware box is about half-filled. You drink the shooter glass first and then the saké in the box. Since these were all better quality sakés, they were served cool not warmed. The first saké was excellent with a really clean taste. The second was acceptable but I did not like it as much as the first. The third was a sweeter variety different from the first two and one that many Americans would probably enjoy. When I completed the sampling, I told my co-worker that, for my tastes and what I thought was the better quality products, the first saké was the best, the third (sweet) saké was second and the middle saké was last. My ranking really surprised my co-worker as he said that is how a Japanese person would rank them. As a side note, they’re always amazed when a gaijin can do something that they consider “Japanese”. I occasionally will use (properly pronounced) various Japanese phrases that I’ve learned and you would think they were watching a dog talking. I probably should be insulted by it but I generally find it more humorous and like surprising them. My co-worker was so pleased that I appreciated quality saké that he brought in a bottle of saké for me on Monday which is one of his favorite brands. I am now obligated to search out an equal quality product and bring that back from America as a gift. Not a problem. I love international cooperation.
We arrived at the restaurant and first ordered a beer. This seems a fairly standard ritual at most of the dinners I’ve been to and you toast each other with “Kampai” and clink glasses. Some rituals are just universal. What surprised me most was that I noticed my hand was shaking a little when we toasted. Now, I’d like to think this was because it was 7:00 PM on a Friday and I’d yet to have a drink. Normally, I’d be six deep by seven but, in truth; I realized I was bit nervous about the meal. Oh sure, the odds were definitely stacked in my favor. This was a fully licensed fugu restaurant and most fugu poisonings in Japan are the result of fisherman eating their catch but, the more I thought about it, this was a really dumb idea. I’d like to think I’m not prone to doing stupid things but this was one of them. But as I’ve said previously in this blog, I’m using my trip to Japan as a way to experience new things and not allow my normally logical mind to stop me
from enjoying these experiences. So when the waiter placed our first fugu course in front of me. I dove right in. The first course was Fugu Skin Sashimi and it’s what I’m eating in the photo to the right. If you think about this for a second, you might realize what the texture was like. The pufferfish, when threatened underwater, can inflate itself with water, until it’s almost spherical in shape. Once it’s no longer threatened, it deflates itself. So the skin is very elastic in nature, almost like a balloon. So as I popped that first piece of Fugu Skin Sashimi in my mouth and bit down, that’s what I thought I was eating…..a balloon. Texturally, it was horrendous and I made sure my facial expressions did not give away my personal feeling. I also noticed a faint, what I’ll call “medicinal” taste on the far back of my tongue near the throat. It wasn’t pleasant or unpleasant, just noticeable. So after much chewing and pondering whether that “medicinal” taste would subsequently lead to muscle paralysis and then death, I completed the first course. One fugu dish down.But we were a long way off from being completed with the meal. The second course was fugu sashimi
where the meat is sliced very thin. A wedge of lime was provided and was squeezed over the sashimi. The sashimi was then dipped into soy sauce with green onions and radish. I eat sashimi weekly but normally with maguro (blue fin tuna), sake (salmon) and saba (mackerel). I assumed that since the fugu was sliced thinly, it would be tender just as the other types of sashimi are. Nope. It wasn’t as rubbery as the fugu skin sashimi but definitely very chewy. My jaw was going to get a workout tonight (nudge, nudge, say no more squire). Once again, that same “medicinal” flavor was hitting the back of my tongue. One of my co-workers then suggested we have some saké (rice wine not salmon which is spelled
sake). Of course, we couldn’t have just everyday saké. Instead we were served Fugu Hire-zake or Pufferfish fin saké. The fish fins are deep fried then soaked in some kind of liquid combustible. The fins are then lit aflame and dunked in the warmed saké. They place a lid over the flaming saké cup and after about twenty seconds, you can start to drink. In general, I like saké. But then again, there are very few alcoholic beverages I don’t like. However, I’m not sure placing the lid over the cup before all the liquid combustible is burned off is such a good idea as the first taste was not that of sweet saké. I thought, “Won’t this be ironic if I am poisoned in a fugu restaurant but not by the fish but because of some un-ignited chemical fuelant”.
The third course was a chunky fugu sashimi but this was placed on a piece of Chinese cabbage and topped with a spicy sauce and green onions. This dish I liked a lot and for some reason the fugu wasn’t that chewy. Probably my jaw was numb at this point. No “medicinal” taste but then again I’m a believer that a good sauce can mask almost any food.
Fourth course was deep-fried fugu. I watched as my co-worker popped a piece of the fried fish into
his mouth and I did the same. Before he had a chance to warn me I bit down and felt something akin to a razor blade slicing into the roof of my mouth. I heard him say “Be careful, you have to eat around the bones”. Why would the restaurant serve chunky (boneless) fugu sashimi but when it comes to coating the fish and frying it, they keep the bones intact?! More amazing still, my co-workers popped chunk after chunk of fried fish into their mouths and would then remove a 3-D jigsaw puzzle-looking bone that was picked completely clean. A little Blazing Saddles Taggart comes to mind: “God darnit, Mr. Lamarr, you use your tongue prettier than a twenty dollar whore”.Fifth course they brought out a small charcoal grill and cooked up several pieces of fugu similar in size to the fried fugu. The ashes from the grill were floating everywhere, in the dipping sauces, in my saké, even found some in my underwear later on. Don’t ask. Let’s just say I had a lot more Fugu Hire-zake after the first.
Sixth course was fugu hotpot also known as shabu-shabu (“swish-swish”). A big bowl of water was
placed on the center grill of the table and boiled. They then placed a layer of fugu chunks in the bottom, followed by Chinese cabbage, big chunks of tofu, ginger bulbs and mushrooms. While this was cooking up, they provided various cuts of fugu that you quickly dipped (swish-swish) into the hotpot to lightly cook and then dipped in a tangy ponzu vinegar sauce. The flesh portions were similar to the fugu sashimi and a light cooking made them easy to eat. However, my co-workers insisted I try something from another plate which I have no idea what part of the fish it was. I believe it was the egg sac where the roe is held but honestly I am not sure. Nonetheless, it was impossible to eat. I was chewing and chewing but the material just wasn’t breaking down. I eventually had to swallow the item whole. I would liken that experience to the following; imagine if you found a whitish-pink balloon that had been sitting outside all summer in a fetid puddle of water such that the balloon was all coated with a thick slimy layer of scum and little back spots where mold and mildew had adhered to the balloon. Then, since you missed lunch you decided on a little nourishment and popped that elastic morsel into your mouth but rather than having the common sense to spit out, you gnawed and chewed like a wild animal before powering it down like a Columbian drug mule prepping for her trip to America. Mmmm, slimy moldy balloons.It was during the shabu-shabu, however, that I discovered the hidden gem. In addition to the various ingredients that were added above, there was also a green leafy plant that was also provided for consumption but it wasn’t added to the shabu-shabu while the soup cooked. The diners were allowed to quickly boil these green stalks and then dip in the ponzu and eat. I tried one and it was delicious. There was an initial floral taste to the plant followed by a slight bitterness which was counter-balanced by the sweetness from the ponzu sauce. Fantastic. I asked my co-workers what it was and they said Shungiku. If you’re like me, that meant nothing. My co-worker than used my blackberry to look up the English word and he replied “Garland Chrysanthemum”. Okay, not much better other than knowing that a Chrysanthemum is a flower. But it was still delicious.
After most of the soup ingredients are consumed, they then add rice and eggs to the broth and make Zosui rice. The rice/soup is served with green onions and nori (seaweed) and a side order of Japanese pickles.
And then finally we finished off the meal with some dessert which was a mango ice cream.
Throughout the meal, we primarily drank saké. For the early part of the meal, I was drinking the Fugu Hire-zake. They only light the first cup on fire and after that just refill your cup which I did multiple times. One of my co-workers considers himself quite a saké aficionado so I asked him if he would recommend a little sampling of sakés which he was pleased to do. We tried three different sakés all with the latter half of the meal. I told him I would withhold my comments and rankings until I tried all three that he selected. They served the saké in a tall glass shooter that was placed in a lacquerware box and they overfill the glass so that the lacquerware box is about half-filled. You drink the shooter glass first and then the saké in the box. Since these were all better quality sakés, they were served cool not warmed. The first saké was excellent with a really clean taste. The second was acceptable but I did not like it as much as the first. The third was a sweeter variety different from the first two and one that many Americans would probably enjoy. When I completed the sampling, I told my co-worker that, for my tastes and what I thought was the better quality products, the first saké was the best, the third (sweet) saké was second and the middle saké was last. My ranking really surprised my co-worker as he said that is how a Japanese person would rank them. As a side note, they’re always amazed when a gaijin can do something that they consider “Japanese”. I occasionally will use (properly pronounced) various Japanese phrases that I’ve learned and you would think they were watching a dog talking. I probably should be insulted by it but I generally find it more humorous and like surprising them. My co-worker was so pleased that I appreciated quality saké that he brought in a bottle of saké for me on Monday which is one of his favorite brands. I am now obligated to search out an equal quality product and bring that back from America as a gift. Not a problem. I love international cooperation.
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