Blue Lotus

Wrapping up the holidays

Just as Christmas doesn't end on December 25th in the west, Oshogatsu (Japanese New Year) keeps going well after the year has begun. Even once the traditional three days of celebrations are over and life returns to normal, there are things like shinnenkai (New Year parties), dondoyaki (bonfires fueled by New Year's decorations), hatsumode (first shrine visits of the year) for those who didn't do it in the first three days, and a host of other hatsu (firsts), like hatsugeiko (first practice or training), hatsugama (first tea ceremony), hatsushigoto (first day of work) and hatsuichi (first market). I'm sure we're not the only couple who makes up our own hatsus, some of which are not fit for sharing.

One day I always look forward to is January 7th, called jinjitsu no sekku (human day festival) or nanakusa no sekku (festival of seven herbs). The day is celebrated by eating nanakusagayu (rice porridge with seven herbs), which is standard okayu (congee or rice porridge) to which the seven herbs of spring are added. These herbs were traditionally gathered wild (remember that oshogatsu was celebrated in early spring on the old lunar calendar) but are now sold at supermarkets, and eating them on this day is said to bring good health all year. I've gone into more detail in previous posts, so if you're curious about what the herbs are or want a recipe, check this old post.

Like many people, I find this simple dish a nice contrast to the highly seasoned osechi (New Year's foods), rich food and ever-flowing alcohol served during the holidays. That's our nanakusagayu above, a bit on the thick side, served with sweet shrimp sashimi in mentaiko (spicy cod roe), sent from a friend in Toyama prefecture (famous for its shrimp) and kombu no tsukudani (soy-braised kelp).

The next occasion is kagamibiraki on January 11th. On this day the kagamimochi (ornamental mochi, or rice cakes, placed on a special altar at the end of the previous year) is broken and eaten. Traditionally the mochi was homemade and consisted of two large disks, placed on a small wooden alter and finished off with fern leaves, daidai citrus, and various paper decorations. In the old days houses were unheated and very dry and after a few weeks the kagamimochi would be hard and brittle, so breaking it was easily- and dramatically- accomplished with a swing of a mallet.

Modern homes are relatively warm and humid though, which causes the kagami mochi tends to get moldy before it dries out, much to the disgust of housewives who then have to carve the mold off of the shattered pieces before cooking them. A clever if unattractive solution is store-bought kagamimochi, which is encased in plastic and often comes with its own little altar and decorations made of cardboard and plastic. The mochi stays fresh and mold-free, and "breaking" it involves peeling off the plastic and cutting it up with a kitchen knife (which is interesting because it's traditionally bad luck to use a knife for kagamibiraki).

The mochi is usually toasted and added to oshiruko (sweet azuki bean soup), but my sweet tooth has completely vanished recently so we made it into isobeyaki (toasted mochi dipped in soy sauce and wrapped in nori seaweed).

 

We ate it with dinner, first with plain soy sauce then with yuzu-ichimi (chili pepper with yuzu citrus peel) and cheese, shown above in the middle, along with mizuna greens dressed with sesame, sauteed shimeji, eringi and shiitake mushrooms, yakishishamo (grilled smelt) and miso soup with kabocha squash and tofu.

Next up were prayers at the local shrine. This wasn't hatsumode for me as I had already been to Meiji Jingu with a friend, but it was a first for Hideaki. He has in the past occasionally skipped hatsumode altogether, but this is his yakudoshi (year of calamity). Maybe. There are a few ages that are considered very unlucky, different for men and women, and the system seems to differ slightly according to region and shrine. For men, age 42 is especially unlucky, and although Hideaki only turns 41 this year this still counts as yakudoshi. Apparently some shrines claim that that the years before and after the yakudoshi are also unlucky, and others use the old system of counting ages in which a baby is already one year old at birth. So for whatever reason he needs to be careful this year, and he made sure to do his hatsumode.

We were hoping to buy a talisman or something to protect him during the year, but it seems the only thing to do is pay the shrine a whole bunch of money so he could be blessed buy a priest. I had already gone through that a few days before at Meiji Jingu (for the blessing of a new business rather than for yakudoshi, but the ritual is exactly the same), and although it was an interesting thing to experience, it was also long, silly and boring. Once is definitely enough for me, and neither of us are that superstitious, so we were leaning towards not doing anything when he decided to buy himself an omikuji (paper fortune). He got daikichi (the highest good luck) and that clinched it- no need for a dumb shinto ceremony when his luck was ensured. Actually daikichi is often thought of as bad luck, since once the good luck runs out the only way to go is down. But in this case we figured the daikichi would balance out his yakudoshi and this would turn out to be an average year.

In late January the post office announces the winning numbers in their otoshidama nengajo kuji (New Year's postcard lottery). The nengajo (New Year's postcards) received in the first few days of the year usually come with a lottery number (shown at bottom left of the postcards above), and that number can bring a variety of prizes, from a TV or overseas vacation all the way down to a set of two commemorative stamps. We were hoping that Hideaki's daikichi fortune would ensure us a good prize, and although we did win three sets of stamps (our biggest haul ever), the better prizes alluded us.

I'm never sure what to do with these stamps- it always seems like such a shame to use them, but also a waste not to. I think this year I'll keep one set and give away two. So if any of you readers are a stamp collector, let me know and I'll send you a set.

And then the last two Christmas packages from my mom finally arrived, two months late. We don't know what went wrong- the fist box arrived in less than a week, but the others took forever to make the journey across the Pacific. It turned out to not be so terrible, since as I wrote earlier I was sick on Christmas and although Hideaki had just found out he had a job we still couldn't afford presents for each other (having spent all our money on a fancy Christmas brunch with family). I had been rather bummed about our non-Christmas, but in hindsight it was actually a great day, since news of a new job was really the best present we could have hoped for. Or second best, but I'm not quite ready to announce the other gift we got that day.

So having kept all the decorations up (that's our "tree" above) we had a wonderful Christmas in January, with a bunch of great presents from back home, a present each to each other, and stockings full of goodies (Santa knows all about Christmas in January, apparently).

And of course, Christmas dinner. I roasted a duck for the first time ever, thinking its small size would make it easier than the small turkey or chicken I usually attempt (like most Japanese kitchens, we only have a tiny convection oven). It turns out that roasting a duck is harder than it seems, because although it was relatively fast and easy, it wasn't nearly as good as expected. The skin was wonderfully crispy, which never happens with other whole birds in my oven, but the meat was tough. And although in the past I've complained about soft, flabby chicken skin, I now realize that tender, juicy meat is a thousand times more important than crispy skin. I don't know if it was the recipe, my oven, the bird itself or simply my lack of skill, but I don't think I'll be messing with a whole duck again.

Still, served with orange gravy, mashed potatoes and brussel sprouts, it was a nice festive meal and we were more than satisfied with our late Christmas.

The last holiday event was setsubun. Setsubun technically means "seasonal division" and falls four times a year, but in practice is only celebrated on February 3rd. The main activity is mamemaki (bean throwing), which is done to invite luck into the home and ward off evil. We skipped the ehomaki, a newish custom of eating a fat roll of sushi while facing the year's lucky direction, as we decided a few years ago that it's a dumb tradition- the store-bought sushi is never very tasty and eating the whole huge thing without talking is no fun at all.

So we just tossed roasted soybeans around the house (those are the tossed beans above) and Hideaki ate 41 of them, equal to his age this year, to bring good luck (I refrained as I hate eating the dry, tasteless beans). I wrote a bit more about mamemaki and ehomaki in this post a few years ago, so have a look if you're interested.

And now Christmas and New Years are finally over, Hideaki has become a regular overworked salaryman, and I'm looking forward to what is pretty much guaranteed to be a better year than last.

A few more holiday pictures can be seen here.

Snow

Last night, just as I was thinking winter would sneak by undetected this year, Hideaki came home from work with rosy cheeks and a head adorned with snowflakes. I'd had no idea it had been snowing, having napped the evening away (a wonderful new habit of mine) after getting soaked in the rain earlier. But somewhere during my slumbers the raindrops had turned to snowflakes, great big fluffy snowflakes, and although we huddled under a blanket on our balcony and enjoyed the view for a while, we were both too tired to actually go out and enjoy it. All that napping can really tire a girl out, after all (I have no idea what his excuse was).

So I had to hope the snow would stick around, and sure enough when I opened the curtains this morning there was a blanket of rapidly melting but still pretty snow on the ground. So I put on my snow boots and headed out to enjoy our first real snowfall in two years.

Like all snowy days in Tokyo there were very few people about, even at the local park which is normally bustling with activity at this time of day. A few intrepid seniors out for their morning walk, a handful of park security guards and volunteers clearing paths, a grand total of three moms with their kids, and four people walking their dogs.

The toy poodle and chihuahua were not having any fun at all, mincing around on the cold wet path as if they were cats. A couple of real dogs were making the most of the snow, including the one above, whose owner looked like she was having almost as much as her dog. It was also nice to see one man who, like me, was purposely walking on the fresh virgin snow instead of the cleared path, although when he saw me looking he sheepishly returned to the path. Lord knows why.

But the place was otherwise deserted, and I felt like I had the whole park to myself. So I did what I always do when it snows: take pictures of flowers. Above is a frosty ume (Japanese apricot) blossom, and below are a couple of icy clusters of mansaku (witch hazel) flowers.

I wanted to stay out longer, but the rumblings in my tummy told me it was time to head home for breakfast. Now that that's out of the way, I think I'll go have a nap. Yawn.

Ogasawara, Part One

Last month I briefly mentioned a recent trip:

And just last week I was whisked away for a surprise free trip to, well, you'll find out soon enough. It involved a few days of heaven, a few hours of hell, and exciting events like almost getting eaten by a (probably) imaginary shark and finally finding out what and where Canada's famed (in Japan only) "Maple Kaido" is.

Well, the trip was to the Ogasawara Islands, and it was one of the best things that happened to me in ages. So it's about time I blogged about it.

I was chosen as one of 10 foreigners to take part in a six day "fam tour" (I didn't know what it meant either) to the islands, with the Tokyo government footing the bill. With us were two Tokyo government employees, two representatives of a travel consultant company, and one of Japan's leading travel experts.

You might be wondering how on earth I managed to get in on this, and I still have no idea, other than really good luck. You might also be thinking that a free trip sounds too good to be true, and wondering what the catch was. The only catch was this: that we give our impressions of the islands and our advice for improving tourism services for foreign visitors. This involved two meetings with local tourism people as well as filling out a lengthy questionnaire, and although I tried to fulfill my duties well I am sure I got the better end of the bargain.

You might also be wondering where the hell the Ogasawara Islands are, so I'll tell you: they are about 1000 km directly south of Tokyo, and like the Izu Islands are actually part of the municipality of Tokyo. But it would be hard to find a place that's more different from Japan's capital: these beautiful islands are lush with tropical vegetation and dotted with gorgeous white sand beaches. And they're sparsely populated: only two islands are inhabited by civilians, with Chichijima and Hahajima (literally "Father Island" and "Mother Island") sharing 2244 residents between them. Among the other 30 or so islands is one you've heard of: Iwo Jima (now called Iwoto in Japanese), currently used by the Self Defense Forces and the American Navy for training.

The Ogasawaras are also know as the Bonin Islands in English, Bonin being a corruption of the old Japanese name Bunin, which meant "uninhabited". That's exactly what the islands were until they were colonized in 1830 by a small group of Americans and Hawaiians, with Japanese, Europeans and other Pacific Islanders eventually settling in as well. Residents were evacuated from the islands during WWII, and although non-Japanese were allowed to return under American occupation, Japanese nationals were only allowed back when the Ogasawaras were returned to Japan in 1968.

Because of the islands' distance from other islands, as well as their late colonization, many plants and animals evolved in isolation. Well over 100 unique species can be found on the Ogasawaras, and the waters abound with sea life, including dolphins, whales, sea turtles and the giant squid (including the first giant squid to be captured on film), earning the islands the unofficial title "The Galapagos of the East". The Ogasawara Islands are currently being evaluated for World Heritage status, and if its granted (a decision will be made in 2011) an increase in tourism, particularly by non-Japanese, is expected.

Thus the free trip. But if the islands are so great, why haven't I visited before? Because the ferry is the only practical way to get there, and it takes 25.5 hours and costs 23,250 yen minimum, plus fuel surcharge. There is no airport or high speed ferry service (both were considered but ultimately rejected), so the only choice is to take the Ogasawara Maru from Tokyo to Chichijima. The 25.5 hours is only in good weather (in bad weather it takes longer or service is canceled) and its another couple hours to get to Hahajima. There are a few alternatives, but the occasional private cruise ship or military helicopter flight is likely beyond the reach of most, and although it's possible to save money by booking a passage on a freight ship that regularly visits the island, the trip takes over two days.

So it's easy to see why I jumped at the chance to take this trip, and I liked it so much that someday I hope to actually go on my own dime.

We set sail from Tokyo's Takeshiba Sanbashi Pier on November 25th last year. That's the Ogasawara Maru above (or at least the part of it that would fit in my viewfinder), but those aren't Tokyo skies- we were a bit rushed that morning so I took this after we arrived in Chichijima. No, the skies over Tokyo were grey and dull, making me really glad to be leaving. Below is the view while we were heading through Tokyo Bay:

 

At Takeshiba we were all introduced, and given a speech and send off from the president of Mile Post Consultants, the company arranging the trip. We looked like a promising bunch, and I was pleased to have already met two of the other participants: Mike, a New Zealander who owns Canyons in Minakami, who I'd met briefly when I did some rafting and canyoning up there a few years ago; and Helen, a translator also from New Zealand, who I know online from a few forums (including eGullet) and had met once with a few other eGulleters for lunch. The other participants were Mark, an Australian who runs HappyRaft in Shikoku; Charles, New Zealander and founder of Bungy Japan in Minakami; Australian Robert, general manager of Elanex Japan KK, a translation company; Tim, an American studying law in a Japanese university; Maya from Bulgaria, Outbound Travel Rep at the Japan Association of Travel Agents; Laura, a British translator; and Han, a business lady from China. The Japanese members were Kobayashi-san, secretary general of the Japan Ecotourism Society and director of the Evolution Tourism institute; Saito-san, marketing and planning manager at Mile Post Consultants; Fukawa-san, general manager of marketing and planning at Mile Post and the man in charge; and two diminutive government employees whose names I forget (I'll just call them Tweetledee and Tweetledum).

All in all an impressive bunch, and soon I was wondering why I was there. I was certainly the least accomplished of the foreigners, and also the least fluent in Japanese. Which mattered, because the entire tour would be conducted in Japanese. But what the hell, I was there so I vowed to make the most of it.

This was my seventh trip out of Tokyo Bay (the ferries to Oshima and Mikurajima follow the same route) so I didn't feel the need to linger up on deck to enjoy the view, which is not very enjoyable (at least by daylight) anyway. Besides, it was freezing, and the winter jacket I'd figured would be too hot was barely enough to keep the wind out. So I went I checked out my room instead.

There are only two classes- 1st and 2nd- but a number of options within each one, and our rooms were lower 1st class. They had four beds, a little table and chairs, a TV and DVD player (not knowing about the DVD player- there was also a library of DVDs to borrow- I had brought my laptop and a several DVDs, which I instantly regretted), and a view. The room would have cost 46,500 yen per person, plus fuel surcharge and although the picture makes it look cramped, it was quite nice by ferry standards. I've done lower 2nd class, the cheapest option available, on a 9 hour trip from Hokkaido to Aomori and a 24 trip from Kyushu to Okinawa, and sharing a floor with dozens of other people, many of them drunk, is not nearly as fun as it sounds; upper 2nd class on the ferry to Mikurajima has similar bunks but in a much more cramped room with about a dozen other people and no extras like seats or a TV. So it may not look like much, but we were traveling in style.

Although the rooms were for four people they kindly put only two of us in each room. My roommate was Laura, who came across as laid back but soon revealed a wicked sarcastic edge and a bit of a party girl attitude. Soon after we'd settled in she whipped out a mickey of whiskey and took a generous gulp, then held the bottle out to me. I declined, seeing as I was terrified that my seasickness meds weren't going to work, and well, it was 10:30 in the morning. But I took it as a good sign. This was definitely going to be an interesting trip.

I spent the day exploring the ship, reading through the heaps of tourist brochures and we'd received, and getting to know my fellow tourists. Poor Laura soon was hit was a killer bout of seasickness and spent most of the trip in bed, so I tagged along with Helen and Maya. We made frequent trips to the decks to watch passing islands (pretty much the entire Izu Islands chain can be seen on route) and check the weather. By the time the sun was setting, above, it had warmed up considerably, and my jacket stayed packed away for the next six days.

After the sunset we broke out the snacks, some brought from home, some bought on board. And when adults and snacks get together in Japan there is always alcohol involved, so we stocked up on that too. I was surprised at the wide amount of adult beverages available on board: beer and sake, of course, but with a far better selection than is the norm, along with wine- in bottles and cans(!)- and two products of the islands: rum and passion fruit liqueur. I settled for some rum and Diet Coke, vowing to take a picture of the rum bottle later when the light was better (but never getting around to it, which is just as well because the rum, sadly, was terrible).

Like all ferries in Japan, this had a small concessionary selling souvenirs and toiletries, vending machines all over the place selling snacks, soft drinks and alcoholic drinks, and a snack bar offering curry rice, ramen and such. It also had a few things I'd never seen before, like a number of lounges, a children's playroom, a DVD library and viewing room, a karaoke room, and a full service restaurant. The restaurant was actually quite decent, if a little pricey, and although I was pretty full from snack time we had a late dinner there.

I had a bowl of oden (seafood, eggs, vegetables and other tidbits simmered in stock) and a small bottle of wine of a type that I would never normally buy, but when in vacation mode (and after that rum) almost anything tastes nice.

Next morning I awoke to discover the grey skies were long gone and it was t-shirt weather. I slept through the sunrise, unfortunately, but the view of the blue sky and wispy clouds was pretty enough.

Soon I could spot seabirds like this katsuodori (brown booby) and the occasional flying fish. The birds were flying alongside us, waiting to spot flying fish as they escaped from the boat, and I was treated to many a dive, but I never got to see a successful catch. What I was really hoping to see was whales or dolphins, but none materialized.

A tourism official from the islands was on board and gave a talk about the islands' wildlife (he'd also given a slide show about tourism in general the night before). I'm not sure if this is a regular thing on the ferry, but it was nice to learn a bit, and even nicer to have something to do.

Finally we spotted land. I think many of the little islands were named as we passed but I didn't bring my notebook with me so have no idea what they are, except that they began with the Mukojima group of islands and ended up at the Chichijima group.

And then we were entering Chichijima's Futami Bay, and our long journey was over. 

Part Two to come soon. In the meantime, pictures from the trip are here.

New Year's

Like every year, this past oshogatsu (New Year holiday) was all about food, starting with a crab feast that featured the impressive looking claw above.

We spent the holidays in Osaka with my in-laws, Hideaki enjoying his last bit of freedom and staying for a leisurely eight days, me staying for four thanks to my work schedule. Although it was a short stay for me it didn't feel as rushed as usual, perhaps because I went by shinkansen (bullet train) rather than by plane like my husband usually insists on. I vastly prefer the shinkansen, and although it takes a little longer it is a much more comfortable and civilized way to travel, so when I'm on my own I always choose the train.

I arrived on New Year's Eve, just in time for dinner. My brother-in-law had sent four crabs from Kushiro, Hokkaido, an annual tradition. They were already boiled and were served in the typical Japanese style: the legs cracked off and scored to allow diners to open them with their hands. No melted butter or condiments of any kind, since the crabs were all tasty enough not to need anything.

First there was the fearsomely spiky hanasakigani (spiny king crab or blue king crab), above. This had very firm flesh and a strong crab flavour and yielded the most meat, but was the toughest to eat- not only were the spikes sharp and numerous, but the shell was very thick.

Next, two kegani (hairy crabs), which was easy to open, thanks to the softer shell, but has so little meat that you really have to work to get a mouthful. The flesh is soft and flaky and the flavour sweet and delicate, and it has the best miso (innards).

There was also tarabagani (red king crab), which Goldilocks would declare to be just right: easier to open than the hanasaki but much more meat than the kegani, the flesh not too tough and not too flaky, neither too strong nor too subtle in flavour. Like every year, we felt extremely lucky to be able compare three different types of crab.

After the crab was the traditional toshikoshisoba (year-crossing noodles), mine topped with nishin (partially dried herring). And then we got to work on another tradition:

Addressing our nengajo (New Year's postcards). We'd actually got them made early this year, or I should say Hideaki got them done early- for the first time ever he made them all by himself, and a very good job he did. But handwriting the addresses and messages got put off and we found ourselves madly trying to get them done before midnight (you are actually supposed to do it by December 25th, but because we're both procrastinators we consider New Year's Eve to be our deadline). The tigers, 2010 being the Year of the Tiger, are a rather untraditional colour (they are actually more orange than the crimson they appear here), since for some reason tigers are always depicted as being yellow here, which just doesn't look right to me. The message says Akemashite Omedetou Gozaimasu, the standard New Year's greeting, which literally means "Congratulations on the Opening [of the New Year]". The design has a lot of blank space because in Japan messages are supposed to go on the front- the back is just for addresses.

The New Year arrived and the next day we ate osechi ryouri, the traditional New Year's foods. This is actually the lunch version (osechi is served for breakfast, lunch and dinner for the first three days of the year, but in my family they differ somewhat with each meal). Show above, clockwise from the top: datemaki (an omlet-like roll of eggs and steamed fish paste); umani (simmered vegetables with beef); chuuka salada (shirataki noodles with shiitake, carrot and lotus root dressed in soy sauce and vinegar); kimchi (spicy pickled Chinese cabbage); tainoko (simmered sea bream roe); and an unnamed simmered chicken dish; on the side is tempura shrimp leftover from the previous night's soba and a little vessel of otoso (sweet herbed sake). Each item has a special meaning, and many of the dishes (or at least the names) are unique to this family. The Japanese are fond of pointing out the differences in each region's osechi, but in my experiences the differences between each family are just as big. See last year's post for better explanations of osechi.

Here are two little plates of my favourite osechi. Note the kuwai (arrowroot, the funny vegetable on the right that looks like a tiny potato with a giant spike growing out of it), a vegetable only available at New Years and an important part of the umani (which in other households usually has chicken instead of beef and may be called chikuzen-ni, gameni, iridori or nishime). At the top is isobeyaki mochi, toasted rice cakes dipped in soy sauce and wrapped with nori seaweed).

For dinner on New Year's Day we have yakitai (salt-roasted sea bream), which seems to be more popular in western Japan, especially in areas like Osaka near the Setonaikai (Inner Sea) where wild bream abounds. It is meaty and delicious and very much the Japanese equivalent of our roast turkey at Christmas (it is bigger than it looks here).

It is always served with crab salad, and since we've been getting those Hokkaido crabs the crab meat is always leftover from the night before.

Here we have rice topped with mentaiko (spicy cod roe) and ikura (salmon roe); cabbage dressed with shiso (perilla); potato salad with ham and chuuka salada; and ozoni (soup with mochi).

Oshogatsu is not just about savoury food though. Alcohol abounds (this is the only time of year when people are encouraged to drink from breakfast until bedtime), although since three of us were sick there wasn't much of it this time. There are also tonnes of sweets, especially at my in-laws, who receive them as oseibo (year-end gifts) and stock up on more in order to spoil their children and grandchild. And more there are more desserts when we go visiting, like this lovely strawberry-topped cake we had a friend's get-together.

There was way more good stuff, and not all of it food-related, but as I look over my pictures I realize I hardly used my camera at all. This may be my skimpiest New Year's post ever, which is probably a relief to you readers but makes me wish I'd taken a few more shots. If you're curious about oshagatsu and want to read more, see these past posts: 2009, 2008, 2007, and 2006.

A few more holiday pictures can be seen here.

Christmas

I thought Christmas 2009 was going to be different. I went out of my way to decorate the house and feel Christmasy, unlike in 2008 when the only decoration was a tiny poinsettia that a student gave me a few days before the big day. Back then I had decided that all the fuss of decorating and cooking holiday treats wasn't worth it and wanted to see what a no-effort Christmas was like. Not surprisingly Xmas '08 made me a little sad, and I realized two things: one, that you do have to put in some effort to get that special Christmas feeling. And two, that even as a fully grown-up person, without kids, and an atheist to boot, I actually still wanted that special Christmas feeling.

So this time around I put up decorations and we even fashioned a kind of tree out of some branches (two trees actually: one on our balcony made of sticks from the park, and one inside made of a fancier branch from the florist's). I played Christmas music 'till my ears hurt, got my Christmas cards done early, and made Hideaki put up Christmas lights in our bedroom window and on our balcony.

And still Christmas never really came.

The first bad sign was after I'd done my Christmas cards, I was literally on my way out the door to mail them when I did a quick email check on my phone and got an email from my mother telling my Uncle Bill had died. Bill was to turn 100 on January 13th, and although I already had a birthday card picked out I thought I'd send him a Christmas card too, writing giant letters (an empty gesture as he was too blind to read) and hoping he'd remember who I was.

Uncle Bill had an interesting life, especially during the war. He flew with the Royal Canadian Air Force and spent time in Finland, involved in a mission so top secret that he still wouldn't discuss the details six decades later. After the war he married and lived in the Parkdale area of Toronto, where he'd grown up.

He was actually my great uncle by marriage, the husband of my father's grandmother. We weren't particularly close and I'd only met him a handful of times, but he'd kind of become part of our family in recent years. We'd been out of contact with him and his wife for decades, only getting back into touch several years ago. Aunt Mabel died ages ago, they never had kids, and our family was his closest kin, so when they regained contact my dad took responsibility for him, visiting him often at his home in Toronto and eventually moving him to a home nearby in Brampton. He was a bit senile but fairly lively for his age, with a newly developed forbidden love for chocolate and sweets (he wasn't allowed to eat them for health reasons, but dad figured at his age he deserved the pleasure and would smuggle in occasional treats for him), making jokes about how he likes to keep after-dinner mints around "for the ladies" and even once goosing a female attendant. On my last visit he had done what he always does to younger visitors: held up both fists and asked me, of my dad, "Is he giving you any trouble?". Apparently when my brother or other males visited the fists would be twirled around in an old-fashioned boxer's move, a treat I never got to see.

So although we weren't close I was really sad to hear about his passing. The timing was also sad, since he just missed his 100th birthday, but as my mom pointed out he already believed he was 102 or 103, so in his own mind he'd already passed that milestone.

The news didn't ruin Christmas though, and I was mostly just glad I'd had the chance to visit recently and that he had lived such a long life. But still Christmas didn't come. Oh sure, we tried to do some Christmasy things, starting with a visit to an event at the Tokyo International Forum (a good place to visit even when there's no event, as the building is amazing and the surrounding neighborhoods always have nice Christmas decorations). Called the "Strasbourg Christmas Market in Tokyo", it was an attempt to recreate the famed Alsatian Marche de Noel. It sounded great, with booths and artisans directly imported from the original market, Alsatian delicacies on sale, free concerts and give-aways of Alsatian wine. Alsace is one of my favourite wine regions but I haven't had a chance to try the food, so I was really looking forward to that (OK, it was the free wine that really got my attention).

I met Hideaki there after he had a job interview in the area, and we were both underwhelmed. We were too early for the concerts, no free wine was to be had, the stuff for sale in the booths was way overpriced, the tarte flambes were sold out, and the very tempting charcuterie cart above was closed without explanation (it re-opened just as we were leaving, when we were already full).

So I took a picture of the Christmas tree, imported (along with its decorations) from Alsace. As I did so passersby looked around in confusion, wondering what I could possibly be taking a picture of, as the tree was extremely tame by Japanese standards- it didn't even light up! Then we bought some overpriced grub at the one food stall that was open, eating it while we froze at the outdoor tables provided (no heaters or blankets offered).

Clockwise from top left: a nice bread with bacon and onion; some kind of potato dish with cheese, mulled apple juice, wine (variety unknown); choucroute; and quiche. The choucroute was delicious and I may have to rethink my hatred of sauerkraut (or maybe the Alsatians are just the only ones who do it right). The other stuff was good but not very hot when served and quite cold by the time we ate it.

Now that I think about it, I don't think it was the food or booths or other stuff that failed to impress me, it was the crowd: the very few people there looked miserable, which is completely normal for Tokyo but just doesn't work for a Christmas market.

December 23rd is the Emperor's birthday and thus a national holiday, so when Christmas (which of course is not a holiday here) falls on a weekday lots of folks choose the Emp's birthday to celebrate. We did so by meeting Hideaki's sister Atsuko and her family at the Tokyo Hilton for brunch. We go there every once in a while for special occasions because they put on a nice spread, but hadn't been a few years. In the time that we'd been away the place had renovated, raised both the level of their food and their prices, and been declared the best hotel buffet in Japan (a title way better than it sounds, as tonnes of hotels here do buffets and most are very good). I'd read that the buffet now included raw oysters and even had Hide call and ask, and he was told something odd: that they do have oysters but they're not actually raw, having been treated to render them safe. We'd never heard of this so were curious to see what they meant.

Sure enough, there was a mound of oysters on the halfshell over ice, and they looked like normal raw oysters. I picked a few up on my first trip to the buffet, failing to notice the sauces, and ate them plain. That's how I ate the Akkeshi oysters in Hokkaido and at that time I couldn't imagine adding any kind of flavour to an oyster. But it turns out that not all oysters are equal to Akkeshis, because these had almost zero flavour! Was it the variety of oyster or the mysterious treatment they'd undergone that did it? No idea. They had the same texture as regular raw oysters, a bit of a briny odour, but close to nothing on the palate. I later went back for some sauce, and once they were dressed up they suddenly tasted like oysters again. I think I must have had nearly twenty, which I later regretted- oysters go down so easily but are deceptively filling.

The rest of the food was good, and although the others were most impressed with the desserts, I thought the salad bar and appetizer bar was the best and also offered the biggest bang for the buck. I was already stuffed by the time I got to the hot food, above, and couldn't finish my plate.

Afterward we checked out some of Shinjuku's Christmas decorations, which Marya especially was impressed by. Believe it or not, this was the first proper light display I'd seen this Christmas- I really don't get out like I used to. We then started an Ultraman stamp rally (a stamp rally being a unique Japanese custom of bringing a special flyer around town to various locations to get a stamp from each one, usually with a reward when you've got all the stamps), Marya being an Ultraman fan, but had to cancel halfway through when I suddenly came down with a cold. Just like that- I was feeling fine one minute and the next felt like hell. So straight to home and to bed it was.

Christmas Eve I downed enough cold meds to get through the night and met my friend Emi for dinner. We usually go to Nasu to celebrate but I couldn't afford it this year, so dinner it was. We were a bit curious to see what it would be like to have a nice dinner together on this night, since Christmas Eve is considered THE date night in Japan. Women without dates on Xmas Eve are supposed to stay home in shame, and the lucky ones who do snag a date can expect an expensive present, a fancy dinner, and a few hours at a love hotel (if the guy has was smart enough to book a room months in advance, that is- Christmas Eve is the busiest night of the year for love hotels).

Like most stereotypes, this turns out to be not quite true: nobody looked as us funny and we saw lots of other women who were obviously not on dates, in groups, pairs, and even alone. The male-female couples in our restaurant, however, stayed true to the stereotype and each girl was handed a present by her man (a cashmere scarf for one and jewelry for the others, the lucky bitches).

Anyway, we ate at Cafe Table, an interior goods shop in Omotesando (selling pop-art type stuff they call "Sweet French Style") with a French restaurant decorated with their wares. It was a very cute looking place and the food was way better than my initial expectations were, although a bit gimmicky. The Christmas wreath salad had lovely bits of pate and scallop mousse, and the "cappuccino style" soup below was made with soy milk and mushrooms, with a very rich flavour and no evidence of icky soy milk.

Next was seafood (a large shrimp, squid and raw scallops) atop pesto risotto with a red pepper sauce, just lovely.

The roast beef with "Maria Maricia" sauce was less impressive, as the sauce turned out to be chocolate-based. Not like a complex and very slightly chocolaty mole sauce, but really really chocolaty. 

The dessert was a mini white yule log and ice cream with balsamico reduction. There was way too much of the sauce and the ice cream was rendered far too sour and savoury- I found myself wondering if the chef had mixed up the sauces for the meat and dessert courses.

Still, it was a very nice meal, and they gave us each a free coffee mug as we left. It's still under my Christmas tree (I mean branch), waiting for our real Christmas to come).

After dinner we checked out the Christmas lights along Omotesando. These lights were once a famous sight in Tokyo, but this is the first time they've been up in over a decade: local merchants disliked the crowds that the lights brought (at the time such displays were rare here) and worried about damage to the trees, so put an end to the displays. In the years since, the shopkeepers have looked on in envy as other neighborhoods in Tokyo started putting up lights, with displays becoming more and more elaborate and the crowds getting bigger and bigger, and I guess they realized that massive crowds are better than none at all, and the lights are back up.

The display was pretty, but it was hard to get a good view as the pedestrian bridge was closed, the street was lined with parked cars whose occupants were taking pictures, and the curbs were strewn with trash bags (must've been garbage day on Christmas).

Meanwhile, back at home, Christmas didn't develop much past the decorations. With Hideaki's job situation as it was, we weren't doing presents for each other, and of the three parcels my mother had sent only one had shown up. There were no traditional Christmas Eve presents, and the next morning we opened stockings (his was full of lame stuff from the local convenience store that I'd hastily bought on my way home the night before, mine with treats from all over that Hideaki had actually been collecting for some time- he's getting really good at Christmas!) had then one present each from my parents (the only two that made it from home). No mimosas in the morning or champagne at dinner, no turkey or even chicken- knowing that I had to recover from my cold before my upcoming ski camp job, I took it easy and let Hideaki do dinner. He did tiny but beautiful wagyu steaks, and although I could barely taste them I could definitely appreciate the melt in the mouth texture (you'd have to be near death not to appreciate that).

So, despite a lot of good eating, it was kind of a sad non-Christmas after all. It's highly embarrassing to realize that at 36 years of age I still rely on my mother to make Christmas happen, and also rather disappointing to know that I really do need all the presents, traditional cooking and other bells and whistles. How The Grinch Stole Christmas was wrong. It didn't come without packages, boxes and bags!

Wait, I'm exaggerating. I had some nice times with friends and family, the present from my mom was lovely, and we did get one very special present on Christmas: a phone call for Hide, from the company he interviewed for the previous week. He got the job!

He starts this Tuesday, and hopefully the boxes from home will arrive around the same time he gets his first paycheck, and we'll have a proper Christmas after all. A month or so late, but I'll chalk that up to the time difference.

Hope you had a merry Christmas, if Christmas is your thing! And if you're interested, a few more holiday pictures can be seen here.

Recipe: Pretzels with Mascarpone Honey Dip

Hideaki discovered a wonderful tsumami (drinking snack) recipe just in time for holiday indulging: pretzels with mascarpone honey dip. It's as simple as it is delicious, and the recipe—although it hardly needs one—can be found at the bottom of the post.

He found the recipe in a magazine I'd bought for him, a men's magazine called Pen, with a headline this month of "Otoko no Ryori Kyoshitsu" (Cooking School for Men), and I'd bought it hoping to inspire him to cook a bit more.

The same day I bought him the magazine we got a catalogue in the mail from Hiraki, a bargain-priced shoe company known especially for their 380 yen sneakers. Needless to say I'm a loyal customer so I immediately sat down to read the catalogue while Hideaki flipped through his new magazine.

Once he was done with the cooking feature, he was reminded of why he never buys men's magazines: the rest of the rag was full of ridiculous looking, overpriced clothes, accessories and gadgets. He was especially tickled by the trekking boots shown above (in the middle of the picture, next to the suitcases), which sell for 367,500 yen (just over $4200 Canadian). Now, I've heard that extremely high quality shoes can last a lifetime, and that some people are happy to pay thousands for hand made shoes, and I get that. But we find it hilarious that this magazine thinks there are people out there who consider it reasonable to pay four thousand dollars for shoes to wear while out in the wilderness, which is full of mud and dirt and jagged rocks and streams and such. Maybe there are a few, but more likely than not none of these shoes will ever trod on anything grittier than a Tokyo sidewalk.

Just for fun, we calculated that you could buy 185 pairs of similar looking shoes from Hiraki (or 2041 pairs of their cheapest 180 yen sneakers, shown above at top left). Which really sums up what I think of pricey designer goods: are they better than the cheap crap that regular people buy? Probably. 185 times better? Not a chance.

So back to the recipe. It didn't look especially promising to me, mostly because I thought I didn't like mascarpone cheese. It turns out that I simply don't like what mascarpone tends to be used for: gooey, sweet desserts. Not that this recipe isn't gooey and sweet, but it has the genius edition of salty and crunchy, thanks to the pretzels, and that really brings it to a different level. The magazine says it goes well with Belgian beer (by which I think they a mean dark and rich brew like Chimay) and it does indeed, although I prefer it with dessert wine (Sauternes would be perfect but the Peter Lehmann Botrytis Semillon that I picked up for about 2000 yen at Kaldi is nice too).

Just four ingredients are needed: mascarpone cheese, walnuts, honey, and pretzels. Mascarpone is fairly popular in Japan and can be found in most larger supermarkets and import shops like Seijo Ishii. The supermarket kind comes in a small container that is perfect for a generous serving for 2 to 4 people, the larger container found at Kaldi and Costco will make a few servings. Pretzels are a little harder to find, but Kaldi, import shops, or—if you don't mind buying a 6 pound bag—Costco should have them. Quantities aren't given in the recipe, as you can use whatever proportions suit you. I like lots of nuts and just a drizzle of honey, but you might want more or less of either.

Pretzels with Mascarpone Honey Dip

Walnuts, whole if possible
Mascarpone cheese
Honey
Pretzels

Toast walnuts: heat walnuts in a dry pan (not nonstick) on medium, stirring often, for a few minutes. When golden brown, remove from pan and let cool. Nuts can also be toasted in oven or microwave, click here for instructions. Toasting is optional so skip it if you're in a hurry, but it's worth doing.

When nuts have cooled, chop or crush them into small pieces. The funnest way to crush them is to find a heavy glass or small bowl that is comfortable to hold.

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With the walnuts in a flat-bottomed bowl, crush them with the bottom of the glass, giving the nuts a stir occasionally to ensure that they are crushed evenly. Stop when the nuts are about half a centimetre, or of whatever size you like.

Mix the mascarpone with the nuts. If I'm going to use up all the cheese at once I usually just do mix right in the mascarpone container (the Japanese supermarket type comes in the perfect size for this) but this time I'm only using half, so I'm mixing in a bowl.

When mixed, spoon it into a pretty bowl and drizzle with honey. Serve with pretzels.

Recipe: Mentaiko Spaghetti

I went to Tsukiji Shijo, better known simply as Tsukiji, recently and came home with a few treats. I've been there many times before, but this was my first visit purely as a shopper, and it turns out to be a completely different experience from visiting as a tourist. I discovered that the world's biggest fish market is much more than a giant labyrinth of wholesalers offering picturesque fresh seafood to middlemen, but a great place for the retail shopper to find good prices on everything from sashimi to prepared seafood to dried food like beans and kombu (kelp). I came away with a bargain-priced jar of nametake (enoki mushroom preserves, a product that deserves a post of its own), a bag of fresh mussels (what a thrill it was to discover that they do exist in Japan) and a package of very good and very cheap Hakata mentaiko (spicy cod roe from Hakata, Kyushu).

Mentaiko, also called karashi mentaiko, consists of whole cod (or, more likely these days, polluck) roe sacs preserved with salt, sake, kombu, and red chili peppers (a similar product called tarako is the roe preserved without the peppers). Other ingredients are often added, and cheaper mentaiko will contain plenty of MSG and food colouring. It is almost always used in one of two ways: as a topping for white rice, and an ingredient in mentaiko spaghetti.

Mentaiko spaghetti is probably my favourite yoshoku , and is definitely one of the cleverest (yoshoku means "western food" and is a category that includes any European style food that is tweaked for the Japanese palate; it is not meant to be authentically European). The combination of pasta, fish roe and butter is as unexpected as it is delicious, and mentaiko spaghetti is enormously popular both at restaurants and at home, loved by every age group (although non-spicy tarako spaghetti is favoured by kids).

It's also amazingly easy to make, but you wouldn't know that by the amount of ready-made mentaiko sauce sold at the supermarket, or by the huge variety of recipes out there. But the truth is it takes just minutes to make and there are only three essential ingredients: pasta, butter and mentaiko. I'm amazed by all the recipes, in both English and Japanese, that call for unnecessary additions: some of them, like cream and mayonnaise, are merely unnecessary, while others (garlic, onions, wine) are distracting or even clash with the mentaiko (wasabi, pepper). And I can't believe how many recipes call for additional salty ingredients like soy sauce or powdered soup stock, since it's already a salt-bomb of a dish.

I've never been a fan of Harumi Kurihara (billed in the English-language press, not very accurately, as "Japan's Martha Stewart"), but seeing her English recipe for mentaiko pasta makes me like her even less: she calls for both soy sauce and kombucha powder, along with regular salted butter. Kombucha, by the way, is an extremely salty kelp-based drink that in its commercial form is chock-full of MSG. Um, no thanks!

All you want to taste is butter, mentaiko and pasta, and this holy trio has enough salt, spice, creaminess and umami that you don't really need anything else. In fact, for a basic mentaiko spaghetti those three ingredients are all you need. The pasta is always spaghetti in Japan but you can use anything; I prefer spaghettini. Unsalted butter is preferred but salted butter won't make too much of a difference (if you're worried about salt just don't salt your pasta water). For the mentaiko, use the best mentaiko you can find: a good rule of thumb: the less lurid the colour, the higher the quality. Proportions are highly flexible, use more or less of anything and it will still turn out fine.

Here is the recipe, for two people:

Ultra Simple Mentaiko Spaghetti

2 to 3 Tbsp butter
200 to 250 grams spaghetti or other long pasta
2 sacs of mentaiko

Remove butter from fridge, bring to room temperature in a large bowl or soften in the microwave. Cook the pasta. Open the mentaiko sacs with a knife and scrape the roe from the membrane with a spoon. Discard the membrane and add the roe to the bowl with the butter, mix well. When pasta is finished, drain very briefly and add it to the bowl. Toss to mix and serve.

That's it! Of course there are ways to dress it up a bit, and it's especially nice to add toppings. Below are ingredients for the slightly fancier mentaiko spaghetti I made with the mentaiko I bought at Tsukiji. From left: salt for the pasta water; olive oil to stretch out the butter if you're worried about cost or cholesterol; mentaiko (this was sold in chunks rather than whole sacs, I used about half of the amount shown); spaghettini; shiso (perilla, also known as beefsteak leaf), and butter.

Shiso is a classic, but there are a number of toppings you can use. From left: negi (long onion, you can also use green onions or chives); yakinori (the seaweed used to wrap onigiri and sushi rolls), which will need to be snipped into thin slices; ishinori, another kind of nori in a crumbly form; and shiso. You can use just one of the above, or a combination of shiso and nori or negi and nori (don't use shiso and negi together though, it's a bit of a clash).

So here's my fancier but still very simple recipe, for two:

Ultimate Mentaiko Spaghetti

2 to 3 Tbsp unsalted butter (substitute regular butter)
200 grams (7 ounces) spaghetti or other long pasta
1 Tbsp salt, optional
1 package (about 10 leaves) shiso or a 10 cm piece of negi
2 sacs (about 120 grams/ 4 ounces) of mentaiko
1 onigiri-sized sheet (or half a sushi-sized sheet) yakinori, or a pinch of ishinori
Olive oil to taste, optional
1/2 cup reserved pasta water, optional

Melt butter gently in a large pan, turn off heat and let cool. Put pasta water on to boil. When it's ready add the salt and pasta, cook until al dente.

Wash shiso and shake to dry, cut off stems.

Keeping the leaves in a neat stack, roll them up tightly, cut the roll in half, and slice into thin strips. Set aside. If using negi, slice thinly and set aside.

Score the top of the roe sacs, without cutting all the way through.

Use a small spoon to scrape the roe from the sac membrane.

Remove as much roe as possible. Discard the membrane (it's edible but too tough to add to the sauce).

When butter is cool enough to touch, add the roe.

Mix the mentaiko into the butter, making sure there are no lumps. If you're using a lot of mentaiko and it's not mixing well, add olive oil or more butter (make sure it's not hot: hot butter will cook the mentaiko, which will toughen it and prevent it from sticking to the pasta).

Meanwhile, scoop out about half a cup of pasta water and let sit to cool.

If using yakinori, prepare it now (preparing it too early will cause it to wilt). With scissors, cut it in half widthwise and then lengthwise, stack the four long strips together and snip them widthwise into thin matchsticks. Set aside.

Drain pasta very briefly, then add it, still dripping, to pan. Toss to mix well. If the sauce seems too dry and isn't mixing well, add a little of the reserved pasta water or a splash of olive oil (or if you're a complete hedonist, more butter).

Divide the pasta between two plates, top with the shiso chiffonade or sliced negi and the nori. Serve hot.

Kamakura

In mid-November my friend Emi and I went to Kamakura for a day of hiking and temple-hopping. We chose the Daibutsu Course, the same trail we always use- a bit boring to always do the same one but it's the perfect length for a day trip.

The hike begins near Kita Kamakura station, so it's a good chance to visit one of the many temples in the area. We found Engakuji Temple, above, to be overrun with school kids, and even though it was a weekday this was more crowded than I've seen in years. Most trees were still green, but the few that were turning colour attracted a lot of attention.

There were also berries all over the place- the purple murasakishikibu above, plus a dozen shades of white, yellow, orange and red. It's too bad the crowds had chased away all the birds, as all the berries must provide a nice smorgasbord for them.

The trail itself begins at Jochiji Temple, so we stopped for some good luck Buddha belly rubbing and were rewarded with the sight of a stinkbug with a cute design.

One little park along the way was bright with koyo (autumn leaves), so we took a break to eat mikan (mandarins) and take some pictures).

There was also an obligatory stop at Zeni-arai Benten, the shrine where you wash your money to increase your fortune. I don't know if anyone actually believes it will work- I've done it enough to know that if anything it decreases your fortune- but everyone does it just the same.

With only 22 yen in my wallet it was an easy task. It's possible to wash bills too, but I'm never sure how I'm supposed to dry them afterward. The sign below definitely doesn't help: the enigmatic English "Dries Naturally" would seem to suggest that you're supposed to let your money, well, dry naturally, while the Japanese instructions advise you to wash your riches with a handkerchief.

After a bit more hiking (I never seem to take pictures on the actual trail) we were at Daibutsu, or Great Buddha, the giant statue for which the trail is named. We skipped it (seen one big Buddha, seen em all) and had lunch instead, at a place called Kamatama Udonya. We chose it because of the picture of the daibutsu kake-udon (Great Buddha udon noodles) in the window, because how could you pass that buy and not want to try it? Upon entering I was pleasantly surprised to see that the owner could speak English and English menus were available, not that we needed them- we knew we wanted the Buddha noodles.

The noodles came in a hot broth with thinly sliced negi (long onion) for the hair, shoyu mame (fava beans cooked in soy sauce, a specialty of Shikoku) for the third eye, sliced kaeshi tamago (boiled egg flavoured with dashi) for eyes, chikuwa ten (deep-fried fish paste) for the nose, and benishoga (pickled ginger) for the mouth. It was surprisingly good, with a very light broth of home-made dashi and chewy, springy noodles. The place is run by a couple and it turns out that the wife is from Shikoku, famed for its udon. Touristy or not, this was a good bowl of noodles and I'll be back.

For dessert, or what we thought would be dessert, we bought murasaki imo crokke (purple sweet potato croquette) and ate it as we walked to Hasedera Temple. Even though crokke are usually savoury, we figured it would be sweet because sweet potatoes- especially the purple variety, are usually prepared as a dessert in Japan.

But this was savoury, flavoured with ground meat and not tasting terribly different from the regular potato variety of crokke. Very good, but not at all what we were expecting.

We had no choice but to turn around and walk to Kamakura Gelato for some real dessert. I had gelato con cafe, plain milk gelato topped with espresso, and then we headed to Hasedera Temple, our last stop of the day.

It's a large temple with a number of attractions, including a cave that I've never noticed before. We went in and saw that its walls were carved with various gods, with a stand in front for prayer candles. you buy a candle, write your name on it, light it and place it in front of the god you'd like to petition or give thanks to. Some of them, like the god of clothing, were candle-free and probably made more sense a thousand years ago. Others, like the god of money or the god of study, below, were quite popular. The god of sake (in this case "sake" would refer to alcohol in general, not just rice wine) had just two candles until an old man, who looked exactly like the kind of guy who would pray to the sake god, lit a candle and gave a very long prayer. Emi and I offered candles of our own, but to which gods I won't say (will let you know if either of our prayers comes true though).

Another thing I'd never noticed: building that houses a giant prayer has part of its floor covered in pebbles. I must have never bothered to look down though, because this visit was the first time I saw that each pebble was adorned with a single character, like the one below with 無 (mu, or nothingness).

More pictures from the hike can be seen here.

For detailed info and maps on the Daibutsu Course, check out Yamaonnas' excellent guide.

Engakuji
300 yen admission
Open daily 8:00am to 4:00pm (until 5:00 in winter)

Jochiji
200 yen admission
Open daily 9:00am to 4:30pm (until 5:00 in winter)

Hasedera
300 yen admission
Open daily 8:00 to 5:30 (until 5:00 in winter)

Kamatama Udonya
3-7-21 Hase, Kamakura-shi, Kanagawa
0467-22-2264
Open daily from 11:00am to 5:00pm, or until supplies last
English spoken, English menu available

Kamakura Gelato
3-8-13 Hase, Kamakura-shi, Kanagawa
0467-22-8801
Winter hours: weekdays 10:30am to 5:00pm, weekends 10:30am to 5:30pm, closed Mondays and first Tuesday of the month.

Eating through autumn

It's my favourite food season and I've hardly had time to cook, but here's a handful of dinners from the past few months:

Corn on the cob; horenso to abura-age no nibitasi (spinach simmered with deep-fried tofu); mugi gohan (white rice with barley); kenchinjiru (miso soup with tofu, shiitake, konyaku and root vegetables); sanma no himono (air-dried Pacific saury) with grated daikon. An September meal combining the last of summer's fresh corn with sanma, the ultimate autumn fish (sanma is written 秋刀魚 in kanji, which reads as "autumn sword fish", referring both its season and its shape and colour).

The sanma was dried at home using a drying net given to us by my brother-in-law this spring. I haven't had a lot of time to try it out so I'm still in the experimental stage- you can see that the fish has curled up and become misshapen. The process involves buying fresh whole fish, cleaning and butterflying them, soaking them in brine, then drying them outside for a period ranging from a few hours to a day, either in the full sun or in the shade with a breeze. There are so many variables you'd think something could easily go wrong, but every attempt has been delicious, if a little funny looking. So making perfect himono is difficult, but making good himono seems practically fool-proof. It's probably somewhat of a lost art, at least for the home cook, and although it's easy to imagine that every housewife once knew how to make hoshimono, I very rarely see drying nets hanging from balconies or windows (and when I do it's usually a restaurant rather than a private home).

So why bother with himono? The fish isn't completely dried like salt cod or other dried fish in the west, so the goal isn't long-term storage. Rather, allowing the sun or air to remove some of the moisture of the fish intensifies its flavour and substantially increases its umami (savoury flavour component, aka "nature's MSG"). It firms the flesh and softens the bones, so that when the fish is properly grilled small bones can be eaten rather than picked out and discarded. And it does give a longer shelf life to the fish, allowing oily fish like horse mackerel and saury to be stored in the fridge for up to a week, rather than a day or two when fresh.

Mugi gohan; yakinasu (grilled eggplant) and hiyakko (cold tofu) topped with thinly sliced negi (long onion), grated ginger and katsuobushi (bonito flakes); kyuri no asazuke (quick salt-pickled cucumbers); tonjiru (pork soup with root vegetables). The autumn element here is the eggplant, and although tonjiru doesn't really have a season it is hot and hearty so it shows up more often in the cold months.

White rice; butter lettuce and mizuna greens salad with myoga (ginger bud) and tomatoes; shishito no okakak itame (shishito peppers sauteed with bonito flakes); daikon no happa no itame-ni (sauteed daikon and daikon leaves); miso soup with wakame seaweed, tofu and myoga; hambagu no kinoko sosu kake (hamburger patty with shiitake and button mushroom sauce). Myoga, shishito and mushrooms of all types are available year-round but are considered to be foods of late summer (shishito), autumn (mushrooms) or both (myoga, which has a summer version- natsu-myoga- and an fall version- aki myoga). 

Kinoko to bacon no bata-shoyu itame (shiitake, shimeji and eringi mushrooms and bacon sauteed in butter and flavoured with soy sauce); sanma no himono; mixed baby greens with tomato and tofu; yakinasu; ikuradon (rice topped with salmon roe and shiso). Another home-made himono, this time a little over-dried; the ikura is a souvenir from our trip to Hokkaido. In addition to the mushrooms, sanma and eggplant, the ikura is classic autumn food, and while prepared ikura is available year-round this is when it's at its cheapest and most plentiful.

 

Kinoko no takigohan (rice cooked with mushrooms); tamagoyaki (thick omelet); spinach topped with katsuobushi; goma suiton no miso shiru (miso soup with sesame dumplings). Suiton are flour dumplings normally added to soups, usually plain but sometimes mixed with tofu and black or plain sesame seeds. I didn't grow up eating dumplings so I don't know how Japanese suiton compare to other ones, but they remind me of the "spinners" found in Jamaican soups.

Tomatoes with feta cheese dressed with basil and olive oil; bow-tie pasta with cabbage, bacon and mushrooms. I'd never heard of pasta with cabbage until I came to Japan, where it's a very popular combination (especially when paired with bacon). Now I can't get enough of it. The tomato dish is one my Mom made a few times on my last visit that I fell in love with. If feta was cheaper and easier to find I'd be eating this all the time.

Linguine with spinach, pine nuts and bacon. Spinach and pine nuts is another favourite combination, especially with- what else- bacon. I'd eat this all year but as a helpful commenter pointed out last year, pine nuts are an autumn food.

Spinach dressed sesame seeds; sanma no himono; miso soup with shiitake and shikaku mame (winged bean); kibi gohan (rice with millet); and umeboshi (pickled plums) and ginnan (ginkgo nuts) to share. Yup, sanma again. It isn't the only fish that can be dried as himono, it's just that it's very cheap at the moment. The shikaku mame are new to me, discovered on a recent trip to Ogasawara, the group of islands far south of Tokyo. It has a nice crunchy texture and a mild bitter asparagus flavour, and miso soup is probably not the best way to use it.

The ginkgo nuts were gathered my me in the park, a smelly (they STINK!) job that is immensely satisfying, as it results in free food. They get washed, dried and then roasted, or in this case cooked in the microwave inside a paper bag, much like popping corn. They are served with Ogasawara sea salt, another souvenir.

Autumn Mini Camp

On a November long weekend I helped out with English Adventure's Autumn Mini Camp, held at Aikawa Fure-ai no Mura, a very pretty campsite in Atsugi, Kanagawa. This is a campsite in the Japanese sense, sleeping in comfy bunk beds inside cute lodges and eating at the cafeteria, and that's just fine by me. I've spent too many nights in a tent this year, and besides, what sane person wants to sleep outdoors in November?

The gorgeous ginkgo trees had dropped most of their leaves so we missed out on the normally spectacular display they provide (this is my third autumn working at the camp), but the Japanese maples were just getting started.

Our activities included tree identification, collecting, roasting and eating ginkgo nuts, warming up with hot chocolate, singing around a campfire, warming up again with mulled wine (adults only of course! this was a family camp so the moms, dads and staff stayed up to chat), and an nature art contest.

We watched a short video about Andy Goldsworthy, an amazing environmental artist, and then the kids were put into groups and set free to create their works. There were ample materials to work with and they had a great time collecting arranging leaves, twigs, pebbles and the like, and the adults had as great a time watching them. A few of their works, like the one above (which if I'd gotten closer and my camera had focused properly you'd see actually had an intricate design) were abstract, but most were representative, such as the one below. Can you guess what it's supposed to be?

An underwater scene! The rocks are the seabed and there's pine twig seaweed made, chestnut husk sea urchins, and colourful fish made of leaves. Below is a flower made of giant magnolia leaves coloured with tulip tree leaves.

A few more pictures can be seen near the end of my English Adventure Camps album.