Blue Lotus

Catching Up

Despite my lack of regular posts recently (does the past half year count as "recently"?) I've been keeping myself busy, so I thought I'd round up some pictures to show what I've been up to. So here are some things I've been doing since Spring, some of them already blogged, some not.

In May I took two trips to Mount Takao a mountain in western Tokyo. Once was as a special outing with my Nature Club students, when I was too busy guiding the kids and their parents to take pictures, and once was a few days before that to scout out my route. Late spring is a fantastic time to visit Takao, as the greenery is still fresh and bright, there are a wide variety of flowers, and the temperature is just right for hiking.

More pictures from the hike can be seen here.

During Golden Week Hideaki and I went to Hokkaido to visit his brother. In Tokyo it had seemed like summer had already arrived, but up on Japan's northernmost prefecture winter had barely ended. It was nice to experience spring twice, and even nicer to fill up on Hokkaido's famed seafood.

More pictures are here, and blog posts are here.

Then came my trip back home to Canada, which was extra special because Hideaki could come, as well as my sister, niece and nephew.

More pictures are here, and blog posts are here, here and here.

Back from Canada, we met up with Hideaki's sister's family for a day at the beach.

None of the beaches near Tokyo will ever win any prizes for beauty (or cleanliness), but we're lucky to have any beaches at all within day trip distance. We went to Koshigoe, a beach near Enoshima (that's the island pictured above) that is one of the better spots along the Shonan coast of Kanagawa, an area notorious for dirty, overcrowded beaches. This was an overcast day early in the season (there is actually an official beach and pool season here), but by the end of the day the it was pretty crowded, but we were able to relax and have a little space to ourselves while getting in some good people watching. We especially enjoyed the constant parade of suntanned surfer dudes trying to pick up two bikini-clad Brazilian ladies lying nearby

One thing that I do love about Shonan's beaches are the umi no ie, literally "ocean houses" that offer change rooms, showers, food and drink, and a place to sit. It doesn't come cheap (you usually need to pay to use the facilities, and the food is priced for tourists) but each umi no ie has its own atmosphere, with a unique look, soundtrack and menu. Some of them are really cool looking and make you think that you're on a beach in Hawaii or Thailand, and the hipper places crank up the music and become beach bars at night. But we were there for the day only and chose a minimally decorated place serving Southeast Asian food.

We shared Thai style bbq ribs, fried, some sort of noodle soup, and fried rice, as well as a good deal of ice-cold beer, and forgot for a while that we were on a dirty, crowded Shonan beach.

Dessert was nice too!

Next up were five weeks of summer camps, in Chichibu, just northwest of Tokyo, and Izu Oshima, and island south of Tokyo.

These pictures are from the Oshima camp, which was my favourite. We slept in tents, cooked all of our own meals, went on hikes, explored tide pools, learned how to snorkel, and met ancient tortoises at the local zoo.

In between camps I went to Mikurajima to swim with the wild dolphins and hike in the mountains.

I blogged about Mikurajima here, and the pictures are here.

With all that was going on in the summer I missed Hideaki's birthday, so we celebrated a bit late with an ice cream cake. Yup, he's 40!

A few days later was another milestone: our 10th anniversary. With some of the money I made at all those camps in the summer we spent a weekend in Shimoda, a town near the tip of the Izu Peninsula, southwest of Tokyo.

I chose it because it is supposed to have nice beaches that remain free of jellyfish and warm enough for swimming in September (most of the waters surrounding Japan are full of stinging jellyfish after mid-August), and also has plenty of historical sights that would give us something to do if the weather turned bad.

Shimoda is where Commodore Matthew Perry arrived and forced Japan out of seclusion in 1854, but that's about all I know because the weather was great and we had no need to set foot in a museum. I can confirm that the beaches are indeed pretty, but sadly the waves were high and we couldn't really swim, so we bodysurfed and built sandcastles (the ruins shown above were truly magnificent before the tide came in).

We took a side trip to Kawazu Nanadaru (the Seven Waterfalls of Kawazu) for an easy hike. I think we saw all of the falls, but it was hard to tell as some of them were so tiny they barely qualified as waterfalls, though some of them were lovely, and it was a very pleasant place to walk around. Most people seemed to be there because the area was featured in The Izu Dancer, a famous book that apparently everyone except us has read. There were Izu Dancer statues and monuments all over the place,

This girl kept following us and copying my poses, which kind of annoyed me at first, but then really pissed me off when I realized she looked a million times cuter doing the exact same poses. I think I'm going to have to start practicing my posing techniques and wearing fancy dresses when I go sightseeing.

Some of the waterfalls could be seen by a paved path, but for the rest you have to take a trail which is not exactly challenging, but steep, narrow and uneven in parts. It was on the trail that I saw the lady in hot pink high heels, which cheered me up. No hike in Japan is complete without seeing at least one woman in completely inappropriate footwear.

What was even more impressive than the falls themselves were the rock formations that caused them and the colour of the water, which I couldn't quite capture in the pictures but ranged from a lovely topaz to a pale turquoise. 

Once we'd had our fill of falls we stopped by a restaurant specializing in noodles local inoshishi (wild boar) for lunch. We'd never tried boar before and weren't sure if noodle toppings were the best way to eat it, so we only ordered one inoshishi dish, inoshishi soba (buckwheat noodles in miso broth with vegetables and wild boar). It was good but milder tasting than we expected, tasting like a cross between regular pork and duck.

We also had sansai udon (wheat noodles with mountain vegetables), which came with a small plate of toppings: daikon pickles, fuki-miso (butterbur shoots dressed with miso) and locally grown wasabi. I'm not a huge wasabi fan but this was very fresh and fragrant, so different than the impostor usually served.

Dessert was kakigori (shaved ice) flavoured with matcha sauce and anko (sweet red beans).

Overlooking the biggest of the falls is Amagisou, an old ryokan (Japanese inn) with a large a collection of rotemburo (outdoor hot spring baths), one shown below. There were traditional indoor onsen (hot springs) as well, but the rotemburo were coed and required swimsuits, so we suited up and went bath hopping. The place is well past its peak and several baths were empty and abandoned, but there were enough left to make it a memorable visit. We liked large outdoor bath with the view of the falls the best, and also had a good time in the onsen pool where Hideaki showed off his swimming abilities and tried to teach me the backstroke. It's much harder than it looks, and despite my best efforts I soon reverted to doggypaddling. One of these days I'll learn to swim for real, but not during a vacation.

I had better luck teaching Hideaki to snorkel the next day, on the rocky shoreline shown below. It doesn't look like much but there were some surprisingly beautiful little fish under the water, and it turns out that Hide loves to snorkel. We don't have many hobbies in common, so it's cool that we both like snorkeling and can't wait to try it again. Maybe he'll come along on my next trip to Mikurajima.

When the water got too cold it was time for lunch, so we went to Kiyu, a Japanese seafood restaurant. I ordered the kinmedai kamameshi lunch set (steamed rice topped with alphonsino, a delicious local fish). Hideaki had kakiage-don, a bowl of rice topped with a mix of vegetables, shrimp and local sazae (turban snail) fried tempura-style. Both meals were excellent and give us one more reason to go back to Shimoda.

In September Hideaki and I went for a hike in Saitama, west of Tokyo. Our first stop was Noninji, a large temple near Hanno station with very pretty grounds. We could have spent longer looking at the many buildings and gardens, but we'd started late so kept our visit short.

I really liked the little rest area, with a tea house-like gazebo that had special details like this funky light.

The lilly-pad shaped tables tables and chairs were cute too, and even the ashtray was disguised as a tree stump.

We climbed the hill behind the temple to continue our hike, but soon after we got to the top we took a wrong turn and got lost. The rest of the 'hike' consisted mostly of wandering around the village seen above.

We eventually found the tail end of the trail but were too dejected to take any pictures until we came upon a higanbana (red spider lilly) lined river. The sight of higanbana in bloom is a sure signal that, no matter how hot and sunny the weather may be, summer is over. But as sad as I am to see them I have to admit they are pretty.

Getting lost is hungry work, so we were happy to find Kunugi-an, a soba restaurant.

Hideaki ordered zarusoba (cold soba noodles with a soy based dipping sauce) and I had tororo soba (the same with grated yam and a raw quail egg to add to the dipping sauce). It was very good, if a little pricey, and if we ever try the hike again (with a compass and map, hopefully) we'll come here again.

A few more pictures of the hike here.

7 Things to do During Golden Week

(This is article also appears at Sunnypages. Hope it comes in handy to those of you in Tokyo, and for those of you who are wondering what on earth "Golden Week" is, Nihon Sun has a good explanation.)

Golden Week is almost upon us, and if you're in Tokyo for the holidays and haven't made plans yet the time to do so is now. Stuck for ideas? We've got a bunch, so read on and start planning!

Take a Walk

Join the osampo boom! If you've been to a bookstore in Japan lately you've probably noticed that osampo guides are enjoying a surge in popularity. Osampo means “to take a walk”, and although there have always been osampo guidebooks on the shelves, they used to be only for standard tourist destinations and were mostly written for the senior set.

The current crop of guidebooks are aimed at a younger crowd and explore lesser-known areas of Tokyo as well the usual touristy places. They come with fully planned routes, including suggestions for refreshments along the way, maps, and everything else you need to explore a new area. Many of them have specialized themes, like exploring gourmet neighborhoods or shitamachi (“low town” areas like Asakusa and Kanda) neighborhoods with an old-fashioned atmosphere. Other books focus on topics like nature, dog-friendly areas, history, temples and shrines.

If you can read Japanese or have a Japanese-literate walking partner then you're set. If not, head to your favorite foreign language bookstore and pick up a classic English-language book like Day Walks Near Tokyo, Little Adventures in Tokyo or Hiking in Japan, or the newer A Flower Lover's Guide to Tokyo. For online information, it's hard to beat Tokyo Tourism Info's 53 Ways to Explore Tokyo on Foot.

Go Where the Wild Things Are

If you've dismissed zoos in Japan after a depressing visit to Ueno Zoo, it's time to try again: there are actually quite a few good zoos in Japan, including a few right here in Kanto.

Tama Zoo Park in western Tokyo is a huge place featuring all the usual animals in relatively large enclosures that let you get up close; the popular Lion Bus lets you get even closer, as does the beautiful butterfly conservatory. Tobu Zoo Park is popular for its two white tigers and its penguin exhibit, which lets visitors see the birds on land and underwater. Zoorasia is considered one of the best zoos in Japan, with well-treated animals given plenty of space and natural looking habitats. Zoorasia is celebrating its 10th anniversary with free entrance on April 24th and a commemorative pin given to visitors between April 24th and 30th. Fuji Kachoen is a paradise for bird and flower lovers, with a fantastic array colorful blooms and a good number of owls and other wild birds, some of whom are put to work doing shows or playing with visitors.

Tokyo and its suburbs are also blessed with a number of very good aquariums, with Enoshima Aquarium, Tokyo Sea Life Park and Shinagawa Aquarium three of the best. If you prefer the more sedentary kind of wildlife, try one of Tokyo's botanical gardens. Yumenoshima is a large greenhouse with a unique heating system: it's built over a landfill and its tropical plants are kept warm with heat from the garbage incinerator next door. Jindai Shokubutsu Botanical Park also features a greenhouse, but the main attractions are outdoors. During Golden Week the large grounds will be home to azaleas and peonies in full bloom as well as a number of wildflowers.

Hunt and Gather

If zoos, aquariums and parks just aren't exciting enough for you (or if you find that the exhibits just make you hungry), it's time for a wildlife encounter of a different kind. The edible kind.

If you have a sweet tooth you'll be pleased to know that the Kanto area strawberry season lasts until May; some places to try are Nikura Noen in Tama, Tokyo (pick and take-home berries are 300 yen per 100 grams, the all-you-can-eat option ended in mid-April), Kawana Noen in Miura, Kanagawa (1500 yen all-you-can-eat in 30 minutes), Okiune Farm in Chichibu, Saitama (1500 yen all-you-can-eat in 30 minutes, take-home also available), and the ever-popular Mother Farm in Futtsu, Chiba (take-home 200 yen per 100 grams plus 200 yen admission).

Clam digging, called shio-higari in Japanese, is a popular spring activity in Japan, and believe it or not the shores of Tokyo Bay produce plenty of asari (short-neck clams). All you need to dig them up is a small rake to dig through the sand with, a bucket to hold your catch, some rubber boots if you don't want to go barefoot (the sand can be cold and muddy) and a good recipe for linguine con vongole. Shio-higari spots in Tokyo include Odaiba Kaihin Koen, Kasai Kaihin Koen, and Toritsu Jonanjima Kaihin Koen. Note that young clams (smaller than a 10 yen coin) must be released; some beaches may charge an entry fee or require clam diggers to pay for their catch.

For (slightly) more lively prey, fishermen don't have to go far, as Tokyo has a few catch-and-release koi (carp) fishing spots: Ichigaya Fish Center, which you've probably seen from Ichigaya Station on the Chuo line, costs 690 per hour for men and 590 for women and junior high school students (poles and bait included), and kids can try the goldfish tank for 400 yen per half hour. Suzukien is similar pond in Asagaya, costing 550 yen per hour including equipment. Seibuen Yuenchi's nijimasu (rainbow trout) pond is open until the end of Golden Week; 1500 yen entry plus 500 yen for pole rental and bait allows you to catch up to three trout (lure fishing also available for a higher fee) and they'll clean your fish for free.

Go to Market

For a kinder, gentler sort of hunting, search out bargains at one of Tokyo's many flea markets and antique fairs. There are too many to mention here, but we've narrowed down some highlights.

On April 29th Prism Hall in Tokyo Dome City hosts two large events: a regular flea market with 300 vendors and a special market run by and aimed at children. On May 2nd Shinjuku Chuo Koen hosts 200 vendors and on May 3rd a smaller market will be held in the same park; also on May 3rd is a flea market in Meiji Koen. May 3rd, 4th and 5th will see large flea markets near Akihabara station and at Shinagawa Intercity. Most flea markets start at 9:00 or 10:00am and run until mid-afternoon.

For antiques, The Japantique Show runs from April 30th to May 4th at the Tokyo Prince Hotel and the Heiwajima Antique Fair is from May 3rd to May 5th in Heiwajima. For kotto-ichi (antique fairs) try the Kawagoe Antique Market at Narita-san Temple in Kawagoe, Saitama on April 28th; the Kasai Jinja Antique Market on May 2nd at Kasai Shrine near Kanamachi Station; and on May 3rd the Arai Yakushi Antique Fair at Arai Yakushi Temple near Arai Yakushi-mae Station and the Yasukuni Jinja Antique Market at Yasukuni Shrine. For the best finds you'll need to wake up early: Kotto-ichi usually start at sun-up and run until early afternoon.

Get out of Town

It's tempting to take a trip outside the city during the holidays, but keep in mind nearly everyone in Tokyo feels the same, causing massive crowds. Don't even think about driving: Golden Week's notorious traffic jams will be even worse this year, thanks to those discounted highway tolls. If you must leave town take the train and make sure you have reserved seats: even normally comfortable trains like the Shinkansen and Odakyu Romance Car lose their charm when you have to stand for the whole trip, squished up against your fellow holiday-makers like a Tokyo subway at rush hour.

Good day trips from Tokyo include Kamakura, Mount Takao, Chichibu and the Okutama area; for places like Nikko, Hakone, and Izu it's better to spend a night or two. Golden Week is also an ideal time to catch a ferry to the Izu Shoto, Tokyo's string of islands. They enjoy a warmer climate than the mainland so you can enjoy summer-like weather without the crowds that descend in July and August. Oshima is the nearest and most developed, featuring onsens, a zoo and a volcano that can be hiked in a few hours; Niijima has beautiful beaches (still a bit cold for swimming or surfing without a wetsuit), hot springs and free camping. Getting further afield, the wild dolphin watching season off Mikurajima is already underway, and if you know how to snorkel you can swim alongside them. Hachijojima offers surfing, scuba diving, hiking and ruins left by Edo era exiles and WWII soldiers.

Catch a flick

The term "Golden Week" was invented by Japanese movie theaters in an attempt to attract moviegoers on the national holidays that fall at the end of April and beginning of May. The name stuck, so well that today few people remember the origin of the holiday's name. But it's still as good a time as any to see a movie.

Once small, dingy and uncomfortable, most of Tokyo's movie theaters have improved in the past decade. Many feature large screens, much-improved sound quality, comfortable seating, and conveniences like pre-reserved seats. Certain theatres like Warner MyCal Cinemas and Toho Cinemas let you buy tickets and reserve seats online (credit card required) at no extra cost, and even those who buy tickets at the theatre get to choose their seats. If the 1800 yen cost of a movie ticket is keeping you away, remember that almost all theatres offer discount days, and some, including Movie Day on the first of each month and Ladies Day on Wednesdays, both with 1000 yen tickets, will fall during Golden Week.

If you'd rather stay home, consider joining Discas, Tsutaya's Netflix-like service that delivers rental DVDs to your home. A number of plans are available but the basic plan gets you 8 DVDs each month for 1974 yen. They come two at a time with all delivery and returns covered, and if 8 movies per month are not enough you can rent extra DVDs at prices comparable to your neighborhood rental shop. Discas is currently offering a one month free trial, so now is a great time to try it out. The catch? It's all in Japanese, so if you can't read you'll need some help.

Amuse Yourself

Although summer is considered amusement park season in Japan, Golden Week is a great time to visit one of Tokyo's many theme parks and amusement parks. All the same rides and attractions are open (with the exception of water parks) but you'll enjoy crowds much lighter than at peak summer season.

Toshimaen has a new roller coaster called Mini Cyclone, a kiddie version of their popular Cyclone coaster; kids will also enjoy the special Golden Week stage shows by favorite characters like Ultraman and Doraemon. Seibuen Yuenchi features mini golf, trout fishing (as mentioned above) and performances for the kids featuring popular characters like Hello Kitty, Anpanman and Yattaman. Fuji-Q Highland celebrates Golden Week with Asian Fuji-Q, a collection of yatai (food stalls) serving food from around Asia; Thomas the Tank Engine fans can meet Sir Topham Hat, who will pay a visit to the park's Thomas Land during the holidays. Sanrio PuroLand will host Sugar Bunnies Experience World, where kids can try their hands at cooking classes, accessory-making workshops, a dress-up photo studio and more. Or explore the darker side of Hello Kitty with Hello Kitty Black Wonder, an interactive role-playing attraction in which visitors must rescue a captive Hello Kitty and her friend Dear Daniel. Black Wonder opens April 25th for the first time in Japan after enjoying immense popularity in Hong Kong, and with the success of the associated fashion lines you can expect Sanrio Puroland's gift shops to be full of gothic-inspired Hello Kitty goods.

Yomiuri Land goes international with Sekai no Yatai Mura, a collection of food stalls offering 30 dishes from 20 different countries. Even better, each of the six weekend and holiday days that fall during Golden Week will feature one country or area, with people from the featured region getting free entry for themselves and up to four friends, (a passport, alien card or other type of proof is necessary). April 29th is England Day, May 2nd is Okinawa Day, May 3rd is America Day, May 4th is Mekong Delta Countries Day (Cambodia, Thailand, Vietnam, Burma/Myanmar and Laos), May 5th is Brazil Day, and May 6th is Turkey Day. Those who aren't lucky enough to be from one of the featured countries still get to enjoy special entertainment and attractions from the regions, such as a bagpipe performance on England Day and belly dancing on Turkey Day.

Whatever you end up doing, we hope you have a wonderful Golden Week!

Easter

I've been madly decorating eggs for the past few weeks to use for a couple of children's classes and an egg hunt with my niece. The psanky style eggs I tried didn't turn out very nicely, unfortunately, but here are a few of our regular eggs. All of the really nice ones were done by Hideaki, who turns out to be quite talented in the Easter egg decorating department.

On the weekend we visited my sister-in-law and her family for the egg hunt and more egg decorating. Mayra was so into the egg hunt that we kept re-hiding the eggs just so we could watch her find more of them. She would do this little running dance thing every time she found one, and it was extra cute when she needed to be picked up to reach an egg up high, with her little legs frantically running in the air.

Lunch was sushi, which was an Easter first for me. Delivery sushi is not always great, but this stuff was really good and we felt so lucky to have had so much good sushi recently.

Dessert was also a treat: my mother-in-law had sent our favourite cake from Osaka, from a patisserie called Madame Shinko. The place's specialty is baum brulee, a variation of baumkuchen (a layered German cake very popular in Japan) featuring a crisp layer of caramelized sugar on top. The top stayed remarkably crunchy considering the journey from Osaka, and I couldn't stop at the small piece shown below. There were also Easter cookies and plenty of chocolate Easter eggs too.

My niece Marya was a little less into the egg decorating than egg hunting, and ended up having more fun peeling the boiled eggs. But that's OK. The grown ups had plenty of fun decorating their own eggs (there were some great ones, I wish I took pictures). And maybe it was all the sugar from dessert, but she was extra sweet that day. She usually refuses to smile for the camera, preferring to make faces, but this time she let me snap away as she admired her loot. So here's a little sweetness for you to enjoy, too:

Breakfast, and Breakfast for Dinner

This weekend I noticed that half a carton of cream leftover from Valentine's Day was about to expire so, remembering how I made butter during last year's butter shortage, I sat down for a good bout of shaking. And ten minutes later (it works way faster when the carton is only half full) I had a small amount of very tasty butter. There was also a bit of buttermilk, which I supplemented with some of the water used to wash the butter (enough juice leached out of the butter and into the water that it looked and tasted pretty much the same as the actual buttermilk, so what the hell--if it looks like buttermilk and it tastes like buttermilk, it's buttermilk).

I used the butter for breakfast, which made a regular plate of fruit and toast extra special. The buttermilk stayed in the fridge until tonight, when it was used to help celebrate Pancake Day.

You may know this holiday as Shrove Tuesday or Fat Tuesday, but where I'm from it's Pancake Day or Pancake Tuesday. Or maybe it's just my family that calls it that--I'm not really up on my religious terminology. In any case, as an atheist I don't do lent and Shrove Tuesday is, unsurprisingly, not celebrated in Japan, so with nothing to remind me I've managed to miss almost every single Pancake Tuesday since I first got here. But this year I remembered and heathen or not, I wanted pancakes.

Thanks to the buttermilk, these were some of the yummiest pancakes I've had. This was my first time to cook with real buttermilk and it really does seem to make a difference, because the pancakes were so fluffy and flavourful. I also loved how the two holidays ended up linked together: the cream used for Valentines day was turned into the butter and buttermilk used for Shrove Tuesday. True, the two holidays have nothing to do with eachother and are completely meaningless to me, but I think it's neat anyway.

This being strawberry season in Japan, I made a no-cook strawberry maple sauce to go with the pancakes, and because all the fresh fruit seemed just a little too healthy I added some bacon and scrambled eggs for balance.

The meal brought me back to my childhood, not only to Pancake Tuesdays but the occasional Breakfast for Dinner that I always thought was such a huge treat. Maybe I haven't really grown up, because I still think that there's nothing better than pancakes for dinner.

Happy Pancake Day!

Valentine's dinner

Valentine's Day dinners, like all romantic meals, pose a bit of conundrum: the point of the meal is both to delight the senses and to seduce, but filling up on rich food is hardly conducive to romance. The traditional dinner date is, in my opinion, timed all wrong: you get dressed up, go to a nice restaurant, get a little tipsy, and eat something fancy. And by the time you get into bed the buzz has worn off and you feel all full and bloated and lethargic. Shouldn't it be the other way around? Why can't the romance happen first, when you're still energetic and flat-bellied?

Actually, this reverse date is exactly what we've been doing in recent years, and it works out just fine. But there is still room for improvement, and I've discovered something important: there is no more romantic a setting than your own home. No pesky waiters, no crowds of people, you get to choose the music, and with some candles, good wine and a little work in the kitchen you can easily produce a meal and atmosphere that is as good as, if not better than, a restaurant's. You can even dress up, although dressing down is more fun (I favour a modest lingerie/apron combo). Best of all, you can interrupt the meal any time, and the bedroom is only steps away.

With that in mind, my Valentine's dinner was designed with an intermission between the appetizer and main course, which is about as perfectly timed as can be.

We started with Prosecco (no budget for champagne, alas) and arugula, baby spinach and red cabbage dressed with walnuts in a balsamic and mustard dressing, along with pan fried oysters. I was worried Hideaki wouldn't like them, because he's new to oysters and so far only likes them deep-fried. On a secret test run last week they tasted a bit too oystery so this time I marinated them in ponzu and garlic first, and then cooked them as usual by dredging them in flour and frying them in butter. It worked: the marinade cut a lot of the brininess without completely killing the oyster flavour, and he declared them the best oysters he's ever had (a bit less impressive than it seems, as he's only been eating them for a few years). I imagine oyster purists would think garlic and butter are abominations, but I liked them just fine.

The main course was steak in cream sauce with shiitake, enoki and maitake mushrooms, with new potatoes and brussels sprouts roasted with carrots. The steak was wagyu (Japanese beef) and looks huge, but is cut very thinly as is the norm here. It would have been lovely all by itself but the sauce was nice too, even if I did over-thicken it a bit.

Dessert was an apple strawberry crisp, a combination that I've never seen before. It's probably due to the fact that in most places the two fruits have completely different seasons, but they actually go quite nicely together. And the seasons aren't so far off, since strawberries are almost exclusively grown in greenhouses here and have somehow become a winter and spring fruit.

At this point we were stuffed, but having already concluded the main business of the evening we were free to loll about on the sofa watching Lost on DVD. Now that's romance.

Breakfast with my Valentine

Valentine's Day is s holiday I feel slightly embarrassed about celebrating, as if I should be eschewing the corporate mandated chocolate frenzy in favour of a lifestyle in which I express my love for my husband all year round, in ways that don't involve buying things. The thing is though, I do show my love daily, and just because we've got an every-day-is-Valentine's-Day thing going on doesn't mean I have to boycott Valentine's Day. I just have a thing for holidays, especially holidays involving food, and if one day a year I celebrate my love in an official manner with chocolate, candle-lit dinners and other cliched ways, well, what's wrong with that? So I've come up with a compromise, a way to balance my dislike of made-up commercialized holidays with my love of special occasions: I go ahead and give my sweetheart chocolates, a fancy dinner and plenty of romance, but skip the store-bought stuff.

(If it seems a bit strange that it's me doing all the celebrating, you need to know that Valentine's Day is done a bit differently here in Japan. There are two differences, the first being that there are no cards, lingerie, jewelry or flowers: it's all about chocolate. The second is that it's the women who give and the men receive.)

I usually make some kind of chocolates or cookies, and this time I made an old favourite: mini mochaccinos. These are two layer chocolates with a coffee kick, very easy to make but rather impressive looking. I got the recipe ages ago, from somewhere in my mom's cookbook and magazine collection--I've long forgotten both the source and the original name (and if any of you can think of a more catchy name that "mini mochaccinos, please let me know). I think the recipe is pretty much unchanged, except for a bit more coffee flavour and the optional addition of the heart-shaped tart crust.

Unfortunately I'm not much of a baker so these crusts were store-bought (yup, I broke my own rules), but they really make these chocolates extra special. As a bonus it also makes them a bit easier to eat, as the bottom dark chocolate layer is rather soft and tends to melt faster than the firmer white chocolate, causing sticky fingers.

As you can see, the dark chocolate on the bottom, white chocolate on top and sprinkle of cinnamon makes them look a bit like cappuccinos or mochaccinos, hence the name. The addition of the tart shell adds another texture, and the combination of the three--the crisp tart, soft creamy chocolate and firm white chocolate--is so nice that I think I should learn how to make a basic tart crust, so I don't have to rely on the pre-made kind.

We're in the middle of a warm spell--it's supposed to get up to 20 today-- so I served the mini mochaccinos with coffee on our balcony, followed by breakfast. Yes, the egg is heart-shaped (done by frying the egg inside of a cookie cutter placed on a frying pan), but I did resist the urge to carve the tomatoes and strawberries into hearts. I'm not that bad. It was such a treat to eat in the sun, and I know it will get cold again but it feels like spring has arrived. Perfect weather for falling in love again.

Mini Mochaccinos

• 175 g bittersweet chocolate, chopped
• 75 ml whipping cream
• 2 tsp instant espresso powder
• 2 tsp vanilla extract
• 125 g white chocolate, chopped
• approximately 20 small paper candy cups or 15 small tart crusts
  
• approximately 20 coffee beans
• cinnamon for dusting

In a double boiler or a bowl over a saucepan of hot water, melt the bittersweet chocolate with the cream, stirring often. In a separate bowl, dissolve the espresso powder in the vanilla, then stir into the chocolate. Pour the melted chocolate into the candy cups or tart crusts, filling halfway, refrigerate 20 minutes or until firm.

While the chocolates are cooling, clean and thoroughly dry the pot or bowl that was used to melt the chocolate. Use it to melt the white chocolate, making sure not to splash any water in the bowl: even a drop of water or other liquid will cause the chocolate to seize. When the white chocolate is melted, poor over the firmed chocolate in a slightly thinner layer.

While the white chocolate is still soft, sprinkle each mini mochaccino with cinnamon (for an extra-fine dusting put the cinnamon in a fine tea strainer, shaking gently to sprinkle), and top with a single coffee bean in the middle. Refrigerate until firm.

Oshogatsu

This is New Year's Eve dinner at my in-laws' house in Osaka: me, my sister-in-law, her daughter and husband, and my parents-in-law (and of course that's Hideaki behind the camera). We go there every year to celebrate oshogatsu (the new year), and those celebrations mostly consist of eating. 

It all starts off with crab, a new tradition thanks to my brother-in-law. He lives in Hokkaido and is so busy that nobody has seen him in ages, but for the past few years he has been proving his existence by sending us fresh crab, which Hokkaido is known for. It seems to get better every year, and this time was the best yet with three types of crab: kegani (hairy crab), tarabagani (similar to king crab) and hanasakigani (literally "blooming flower crab", as its shape and colour is supposed to resemble a flower). They arrived already whole and already boiled (as is common in Japan, where most people don't have pots big enough to boil the larger ones) and sadly I didn't get a chance to take any pictures before they were cut up, but here is a picture of last year's kegani, and here are some pictures of hanasakigani (maybe you'll have better luck than me seeing the flower resemblance).

The kegani is the smallest and has the sweetest and most delicate flesh.

The hanasakigani's legs and claws were huge and extremely hard to eat, thanks to the giant spikes and very thick shell. The flesh richly flavourful with a firm, almost meat-like texture, and was the most similar to the crab I remember from Canada.

The tarabagani, claw shown on top, was kind of half-way between the two in terms of both taste and texture. I think I liked it best overall, but they were all fantastic.

It's not just the legs that are eaten in Japan: the body is served as well, in order to scoop out the kanimiso. Kanimiso is often incorrectly translated as "crab brains", perhaps because that's what most Japanese think it is (miso is a common euphemism for brains). Well, I've always wondered why there is so much miso in each crab considering their level of intelligence (they walked right into the traps, after all), and it turns out that the miso is actually the liver and other internal organs, and their actual brains are as tiny as you'd expect.

Not that guts are any less gross than brains to the squeamish among you, but the seafood lovers and offal fans out there will surely believe me when I say that it kanimiso one of the finest delicacies in the world. It's extremely rich and sweet and has a creamy texture, like the foie gras of the sea. And each type of crab has a different flavour: this time we found the kegani was the lightest and creamiest, with the hanasakigani being rather strongly flavoured, and the tarabagani being rich and flavourful. This is not something you can eat a lot of, so after a few spoonfuls we were done.

But the fun wasn't over, as my niece Marya discovered that crab claws fit nicely on fingertips. She found it hilarious to hold out her claw-hands menacingly and chase us around, and if only she could have held still for a second or two I could have gotten some very cute pictures.

There was also sasazushi: a traditional type of sushi wrapped in sasa bamboo leaves, which have antibacterial properties said to help keep the sushi fresh. There was ebi (shrimp), tai (bream) and sake (salmon), and I normally would have been a bit more excited about it all, but this stuff just couldn't compete with the crab. I only tried the salmon, which was good, but it wasn't, you know, crab. 

Later on, when we'd had a bit of time to digest, the final meal of the year was served: toshikoshi soba. Literally "year crossing noodles", eating these buckwheat noodles will ensure a life as long as the noodles themselves. There is no particularly traditional type of soba or way of serving toshikoshi soba (although some people buy special extra-long soba noodles, to increase their luck), and at this house we usually get nishin soba, is a bowll of soba in hot broth, topped with migakinishin (dried herring). Nishin soba is popular in Kyoto, which is landlocked and traditionally could only get sea fish in dried form; nishin came from Hokkaido, which Kyoto enjoyed a thriving trade with, via the Sea of Japan. Interestingly Hokkaido also produces a lot of kombu (kelp, used for making stock), and this helps explain why the cuisine of Kyoto and surrounding areas is lighter than that of eastern Japan: kombu was more readily available there than the richly flavoured katsuobushi (dried bonito) used for stock in Tokyo and the rest of Japan. Anyway, as Osaka is next to Kyoto a lot of the food is similar, and the herring on the soba, as well as the light flavour and colour of the broth, show Kyoto's influence very well. 

Shortly before midnight the TV comes on, as NHK (the national broadcaster) features beautiful live footage of temples and shrines all over Japan. Just as the New Year begins, the temples begin joya no kane (ringing of the temple bells), with the giant bells being struck 108 times, so as to cleanse away the 108 earthly desires built up over the previous year. We also open a bottle of sparkling wine, which is not traditional  but brings a bit of fun to an otherwise rather somber occasion.

The next morning is when the celebrations really get underway, with a breakfast of osechiryouri (traditional New Year's food, also called osechi). Usually consisting of dozens of little morsels beautifully arranged in a fancy three-layered box, the osechi at my in-laws is a little bit unorthodox: just a select few osechi favourites, served rather casually in the lazy suzan shown above. I think this makes sense: rather than fussing over a whole bunch of food nobody really likes (and osechi is almost universally detested in Japan), it's a simple display consisting of just the osechi the family actually likes.

So why is osechi hated so much? It was originally prepared over the last days of the year, the idea being that having food already cooked will give the women of the house a break during the first few days of the New Year. But in order to last several days without refrigeration (as there were no fridges way back when this tradition started) the food needs to be well-cooked and heavily seasoned. Which meant that for three days people ate a lot of very sweet and very salty food, with little to no fresh produce. Also, the food served must be auspicious, with its appearance or name symbolizing a number of wishes for the New Year; thus the food is chosen not for how good it tastes, but how much luck it will bring to thediner. Finally, diners are encouraged to eat a bite of every food, in order to bring good luck, and no exception is made for picky eaters. 

Why this tradition continues virtually unchanged despite the invention of the refrigerator is beyond me, but I'm glad I didn't marry into a traditional family. Most of the osechi I can tolerate, and some I really like and would eat all year around if I could.

Here is the osechi we ate:

Kamaboko, a steamed fish paste eaten for its colour. The combination of red and white (yes, pink is considered red) is auspicious, going back to the ancient Shinto practice of offering red and white rice to the gods. Alternate layers of red and white are especially lucky (think of the old rising sun flag of Japan) so the kamaboko is always arranged as above. Kamaboko is nearly always store-bought, as it is difficult to make at home.

Gomame, also called tazukuri, is abig family favourite, made baby sardines cooked in sugar and soy sauce until crisp. Traditionally baby sardines were used as both food and fertilizer, eating it at New Year's was thought to bring a good harvest. This was home-made, and seems to be one of the easiest osechi dishes to make.

Kobumaki, or kelp rolls, involves a play on words: kobu (a variation of kombu) means both "kelp" and "joy". The filling is most often sake (salmon), nishin (herring) and anago (sea eel), and the rolls are tied with kampyo (dried gourd). We eat all three types, starting with salmon, shown above, on the first morning. These are store-bought.

Kazunoko (herring roe) can be served by itself or mixed with thin strips of carrot, dried squid and kombu to make matsumaezuke, shown above. The hundreds of tiny eggs in kazunoko represent fertility and prosperity, and it is one of the most popular osechi in Japan--I doubt there's a household in the country that doesn't serve kazunoko or matsumaezuke. This dish was home-made, and in fact my husband remembers eating matsumaezuke year-round when he was little, and it remains a big favourite of his. Unfortunately kazunoko is one of the few foods I hate, so I just eat around it and gave the yucky chunks of roe to Hideaki, who is happy to help.

The origin of datemaki (a thick omelet-like roll made of eggs and fish paste) is unclear, but one common idea is that the shape resembles rolled scrolls and thus symbolizes wisdom and knowledge. This is storebought.

Kurikinton, one of the family's beloved osechi, is made of finely mashed satsuma-imo (sweet potato) and kuri (chestnuts). The colour is thought to resemble gold, so kurikinton represents wealth. This is another one I don't like, which is odd because I actually love sweet potatoes and chestnuts. But I can't stand the mushy, textureless consistency of the sweet potato and so much sugar is added that my teeth hurt just looking at it. I usually just grab a very small chunk of chestnut and try to scrape as much sweet potato off as I can. This one is home-made, usually with the help of whichever man is around, as mashing the sweet potato through a fine strainer takes quite a bit of muscle.

Kuromame are black beans simmered in soy sauce, eaten for a double play on words: mame means "bean" as well as "health" and "diligence". These are homemade. 

Shiromame (white beans), eaten for the same reasons as kuromame. These are very sweet, so I'm not a big fan.

And now for my favourite: tainoko (sea bream roe). This is a regional osechi: eaten in the parts of western Japan that border the Inner Sea, where sea bream is bountiful, and unheard of in the rest of the country. The roe is simmered in sake and soy sauce and has a rich flavour and wonderful soft yet slightly crunchy texture, similar to tarako (cod roe). This is homemade. 

I may skimp on the osechi I don't like, but I more than make up for it with tainoko. I wish it was available in Tokyo because I could easily eat it every day.

Here is my first serving of sechi. The chopsticks are brand-new and come in a special New Year's wrapper, which is traditional (people also often wear brand-new clothes on this day). The ochoko (tiny sake cup) contains otoso, a spiced and sweetened sake that is said to ensure good health in the New Year. Indeed it tastes rather medicinal, and is often cough syrup sweet, but this year both the sugar and spice were toned down and I rather enjoyed it. I find it similar (in concept more than flavour) to the mulled wine drunk by Europeans at Christmas.

My next serving is above (the servings after that consisted entirely of tainoko).

When the osechi is done it's time for ozoni, a soup containing mochi (pounded rice cake) and other ingredients. The recipe for ozoni varies tremendously from region to region and family to family, but my mother-in-law's is a clear chicken broth with hakusai (Chinese cabbage), mitsuba (trefoil), chicken, naruto (fish paste) and a square piece of mochi. It's actually an Eastern Japan style of ozoni, albeit with a lighter broth.

Mochi is a major part of New Year eating, showing up not only in ozoni but in snacks throughout the day. This mochi was made by my sister-in-law's husband's family in Chiba, and like all home-made mochi it's far superior to the plastic-like variety sold in supermarkets and thus is hard not to overeat. In fact, most Japanese people do gain weight over the holidays and the blame lies on squarely on mochi, which is surprisingly high in calories (another problem with mochi is its extremely dense and sticky texture, and choking deaths that result are reported in the news in a grim sort of holiday tradition). Other than ozoni, mochi can be served in a number of ways, both sweet and savoury; my favourite is isobe-yaki (grilled, dipped in soy sauce and wrapped with nori seaweed). Above is a special version, dipped in shichimi-joyu (soy sauce with seven-spice mix).

To take a break from eating there are a number of traditional games to play, and in this family the game of choice is hanafuda. There are dozens of variations of the game, all with rules too long and complicated for me to explain here, so I'll just show you the pretty cards.

Hanafuda is most often a gambling game, but instead of cash we use sweets. This year's prize lot consisted of chocolates (a gift from my family to the in-laws--thanks Mom!) and cookies (received by the in-laws as an oseibo year-end gift: thanks strangers!). I'm not a great hanafuda player but I'm not bad, either, and I ate enough of these treats that I won't be able to blame this year's weight gain on mochi.

This is our first dinner of the year (yup, I'm still on January 1st). The food served is still osechi, but it's mostly the more substantial, savoury dishes.

The main event is yakitai (salt-grilled sea bream), which is bought already cooked (all other dinner food is homemade). The sea bream, caught wild in the Inner Sea, is better than anything we can get in Tokyo, although this year we found that it was overly salty. Tai is eaten because of a play on words: it sounds like the last part of medetai (which means a happy event or celebration).

This is one of my favourite osechi (actually, all the dishes served for the first dinner are my favourites), called chuuka sarada. It means "Chinese style salad", although it doesn't strike me as either Chinese or salad-like: it is a stir-fry of shiitake, carrot, renkon (lotus root), gobo (burdock root) and shirataki (yam jelly noodles), very lightly flavoured with soy sauce, rice vinegar and sesame oil. 

I have no idea what the proper name of this dish is, we always just call it tori (chicken). It's not terribly attractive to start with, and this picture certainly doesn't do it any justice, but it tastes amazing. It's chicken thighs (and possibly other dark meat) slowly braised in a rich broth of... I have no idea. There's probably soy sauce, black pepper, star anise, negi (long onions), ginger, sake and vinegar, but from there I'm really not sure. The bones are removed before serving but the abundant jelly is kept, and the flesh is so soft and delicious it's hard to stop eating. I'm going to have to watch my mother-in-law make this one of these years, because I really want to know how to make this myself.

This is nishime, a simmered vegetable dish. Pretty much every family serves this (or a similar simmered dish called chikuzen-ni), and although the ingredients may vary there is usually kuwai (arrowroot, a relative of water chestnuts), which is that potato-like thing on the right with the long sprout. In Japanese, the sprout is called me, which brings two puns: medetai (celebration) and me ga deru (bring good luck). The other vegetables are carrot, shiitake, renkon (lotus root), takenoko (bamboo shoots), daikon, konnyaku (yam jelly), and thin strips of beef. I usually eat bowls and bowls of this, but this year my niece gave me a bit of competition, going through several bowls herself in a very systematic way: picking out and eating all the daikon, then the carrot, and then, somewhat reluctantly, the rest of the ingredients.

And finally, kani sarada (crab salad). This is normally made with canned crab, but this time leftover meat from last night's crab was used. We alsways jump on this, as we're thrilled to see fresh vegetables.

The next morning brought more osechi, this time with a different brand of datemaki (it was firmer and less sweet than the previous day's, and I liked it better) and new kind of kobumaki (stuffed with herring).

This is namasu, a refreshing and crunchy dish of carrot and daikon dressed with vinegar. It's a very welcome addition to the New Year's table, which seriously lacks vegetables--especially the fresh, crisp kind. This is another osechi that gets its good luck from its red and white colour (yup, orange was considered a shade of red).

The broth for the second day's ozoni is always made from the previous night's yakitai, and this year there was enough broth leftover to make zosui for lunch. Zosui is rice soup, most often made from simmering pre-cooked rice with some kind of leftover broth. Here it is flavoured with hakusai (Chinese cabbage), mitsuba (trefoil) and nori seaweed.

This year both Hideaki and I were suffering from colds and required a lot of rest. When he fell asleep on the living room sofa (usually because he was too full to make the trip upstairs to the guestroom) I'd tuck him into a blanket to keep him warm, which caught the attention of Marya, who would insist on either helping me tuck (she'd even say "tuck, tuck, tuck" while she did it) or being tucked in herself. She's not actually asleep in the picture above, just pretending in hopes that she'll get tucked in.

New Year's is a time to meet old friends though, so he couldn't stay on the sofa for the whole visit (as much as he would have liked to). On the second night of the year we went to a shinnenkai (New Year party) at the home of a high school friend of his. The good eating continued, with kaninabe (crab hot pot) featuring yet another type of crab (zuwaigani, or queen crab) and this lovely cake for dessert.

On the third day the osechi continued, although lunch was completely non-osechi: a bowl of ochazuke (rice with hot green tea). This is a somewhat fancy version, with genmaicha (green tea with puffed brown rice) and four types of tsukudani (seafood simmered in soy sauce): kombu (kelp), chirimen-jako (tiny dried fish), mekabu seaweed, and hotate (scallops).

Dinner that night was at Meishan Kajousai, a Chinese restaurant in nearby Senri Chuo. Ownded by Ume no Hana, a chain of tofu restuarants, we've really enjoyed it on past visits but were disappointed this time. Still, a few dishes stood out, like the extra-crisp harumaki (spring rolls) and daikonmochi (radish cakes) above. Apologies for the small pictures, I forgot my camera and had to use my phone.

The mabodofu (tofu with spicy meat sauce) was served with two styles in the same pot: the regular spicy version on the right, and a creamy white version, made with soy milk, on the left. 

The fried fish with sweet and sour sauce was also very good.

As usual, Marya entertained us between courses.

Our last treat in Osaka was dessert from a local cake shop. Above is a rolled cake with a cute cowhide pattern in honour of the Year of the Cow. Apparently this was very good, although I didn't try it.

I'm not much of a cake eater and am rather picky about other desserts, so my in-laws, who buy cake at every opportunity, always go to great lengths to find something they think I'll like. It's totally unnecessary, since I'd be perfectly happy with one of the dozens of sweet treats already in the house: piles of clementines, ice cream (there are always a minimum of three flavours of Hageen Dazs in the freezer, along with a few other kinds), and boxes of cookies and other sweets sent as oseibo gifts or brought as souvenirs by visitors. So the fuss is really uncalled for and I usually feel bad that my pickiness causes so much trouble. But this time I was glad for it, because this is what was chosen for me: 

The fanciest chocolate tart I've ever seen. There are so many things happening here that I wasn't sure where to start, but I finally did (the macaron went first) and holy cow was it ever good (except for the whipped cream between the tart and fruit and on top, which I gave to Hideaki). The tart itself was excellent and would have been enough, but the fruit and macaron on top were wonderful finishing touches, a very fitting way to end the holiday excess (for anyone in northern Osaka, both the cake and tart came from Ichirin Coffee in Minoh).

JapanSoc it!

Nasu

This is the sad, sad, breakfast I ate two weeks ago: hash browns, Egg Mcmuffin, and an orange juice. "What's sad about this breakfast?" you might be asking. "Doesn't McDonalds offer one of the finest breakfasts in the world?" You'd be right of course, and nearly any other day of the year I'd be thrilled to have such a fine feast for my morning meal. But not on Christmas morning. 

Christmas is a normal workday in Japan, and although I'm lucky enough to have it off my husband doesn't, so rather than spend the day alone I did the same thing as I did last year: take off with my friend Emi to Nasu, a hot spring resort in Tochigi prefecture, north of Tokyo. The above breakfast was eaten across the street from the bus terminal in Shinjuku, and it did a good job in that it kept me full on the long bus ride up to Nasu. But it's nowhere near as good as the proper Christmas breakfasts I had growing up. 

Wait, that's a lie: I don't remember any any childhood Christmas breakfasts. I have no idea what we ate. Did we eat? I do know that breakfast fell between the opening of the Christmas stocking presents (the warm up) and the opening of the presents under the tree (the main event), and perhaps in my gift-induced frenzy I just didn't pay much attention to the food (other than the chocolate coins and clementine in my stocking). I do remember a deadly breakfast dish that my sister made when we were older, a baked affair involving cubed bread, eggs, bacon and mounds of cheese that contained the rough equivalent to a week's worth of calories, but this being Christmas morning was really just practice for the immense quantities of carbs and grease to come. Mimosas were on hand to wash it down. "Um, you're digressing" you might say. You'd be right. But now that we're on the subject, this breakfast does kind of resemble that casserole, in deconstructionist sort of way.

We arrived in Nasu just before noon and headed to our lodgings, Hotel Epinard (at which my friend gets some kind of fabulous discount for reasons I don't fully understand, but who am I to look a gift horse in the mouth). Once we were settled in we set about taking pictures of ourselves in front of the tree and in the giant gingerbread house, which smelled so good inside that it was hard to stop myself from just gnawing on the wall, the way my pet guinea pig Spike used to gnaw on the wooden corners of her cage. But I don't think I'd look as cute doing it as she did, and besides there were children waiting to play in the cookie house and I didn't want to make them cry. 

We rented a car and drove to Udon Shounin Okamoto, an udon noodle restaurant, for lunch. I ordered yasai tempura udon: udon in hot broth and vegetable tempura. The udon was perfect with a slippery, chewy texture and the broth was light and subtle, more like something you'd find in Kyoto than Tochigi. The tempura was tasty and properly crisp, if a bit on the greasy side. 

And then on to dessert at Shozo Cafe, an excellent place loved as much for its interior as its scones. The cafe is full of vintage, mismatched and otherwise quirky pieces that make it feel both fashionable and homey at the same time. But it's the scones you want to see.

I'm not sure how these stack up against authentic English scones, but they sure beat the pants off of anything I've tried back home (yes, I'm referring to those giant dried out triangular monstrosities that dare to go by the name "scone" in Canada) and nearly everything I've had in Japan, and they come still warm along with very generous amounts of raspberry jam and clotted cream. And, because it's Christmas, some cute Christmas berries and holly. It's all so pretty, isn't ? I bet you're wondering how one of these scones would look smeared with the jam and cream.

Sexy, that's how. See how the jam and clotted cream are all mixed up, and the warm, soft interior of the scone is causing the cream to melt? You like that? Yeah, you like that, don't you. 

You're probably wondering "What's up with the the gratuitous, and not even very good, pictures of yourself?" I have no excuse for the previous pictures but there's a good reason for the one above: it's a Before picture. The background, I mean. (The foreground doesn't really get any better, unfortunately.) Stay tuned for the After picture.

For dinner we went to restaurant called A Cow Herd, an odd name for a restaurant but also a pretty accurate one. They specialize in kuroge wagyu (the top class of beef in Japan, a class that includes famous brands like Kobe-gyu and Matsuzaka-gyu), in particular tochigi-gyu, the local variety. I chose a steak course that started with the appetizer above: endive with crab, squid sashimi dressed with yuzu, and thin strips of seared beef wrapped around mizuna greens. It was followed by a forgettable soup, and rice, and then the main event: 

A sizzling steak. A dainty 150 grams (all I could afford) or so of sirloin from locally raised tochigi. 

The dim lighting made it hard to get a good picture, but this was one beautiful piece of meat. Cooked perfectly rare, tender enough that I barely needed my knife, and so rich and juicy that I hardly used the accompanying dips (okinawan sea salt, horseradish and soy sauce, wasabi and soy sauce, and a rich garlicky soy sauce). It was so good it made me wonder why people bother with turkey. I think I'll make wagyu steak my official Christmas dinner from now on. 

This was my dessert: ice cream wrapped in a crepe in a puddle of custard sauce. You want to see what's inside, don't you?

Vanilla ice cream and blackberries, that's what. All a bit gooey for my tastes, but it was good.

Back at the hotel we went for the onsen (hot spring), which had several different baths, including a wooden tub containing a yuzu-yu (a yuzu bath: the water bobbing with dozens of delicately scented yuzu citruses) and two rotemburo (outdoor baths, with a view of a rocky waterfall and small Japanese garden). I only stayed for a short time, since I was tired and had a big day coming up that I needed to rest for, but Emi stayed soaking until well past midnight. She had really been hoping for a White Christmas and thought that Nasu, where it snows more often than Tokyo, was a good place to find it, and because we'd had no snow all day she stubbornly sat all night in the rotemburo hoping for a snowfall.

And just before midnight snow started to fall. She got her White Christmas! I slept through it, completely unaware until the next morning when I stepped out onto the balcony for some fresh air. The feeling of snow on my bare toes is not a feeling I'm fond of though, so I didn't stay out for long. 

Later on, after Emi woke up, we went back out in more appropriate attire. And these are the After pictures. Same balcony, same view, but how different! I only wish the mountains were visible, because they would have been beautiful. 

And then I had to leave my big fancy hotel room and head to a different place in Nasu: Nasu Village, which would shortly be taken over by an English ski camp. I was there early to help set things up, and when the campers arrived on their bus from Tokyo I got to watch their delighted faces as they jumped off the bus and into the snow.

The camp lasted four days and it snowed non-stop until the next morning. The campsite itself was beautiful, but we weren't there much.

We were at Hunter Mountain, which would also have been beautiful if it weren't for all those skiers. I'm told that this wasn't particularly crowded for a Japanese ski resort, but I'm glad I wasn't skiing this time (I was worried about my back, which is mostly better but I want it to stay that way). Because if I was skiing I would would have knocked down all those people like they were bowling pins.

On the last day, when the snow had finally stopped, we had a snowman contest. My favorite was the one above, which had sunglasses and a bald head (as opposed to the full head of hair found on regular snowmen?) in tribute to a bald-headed, sunglass wearing camp counselor. 

This is the snowman my team made, with no help from me. It comes with a bonus Rudolph on the side, but they were careful to point out that the snowman was not Santa. That would have been copying, as another team had already done a Santa and Rudoph pair.

And when camp was over I returned to Tokyo, where it was warm and sunny and snowless and the next day I was in Osaka celebrating the New Year. Christmas hardly even happened, and the year was over too soon.

Christmas

I think it's about time to recap last year's Christmas festivities, although it's a couple weeks late and things weren't particularly festive. My apartment has been suffering from the same lack of attention as this blog is receiving, and by the time Christmas came around I hadn't bothered to put up a single decoration, with the only bit of seasonal cheer coming from the little poinsettia a student gave me and a pile of presents dumped beside the sofa. This is in stark contrast to the usual Christmas craziness that goes on around here, with blinking lights galore, Christmas doo-dads on every surface, and a tree that takes up half the apartment. Not to mention the Christmas music playing (yup, I actually play it at home), Christmas cookies baking, and Christmas presents sprawling out from under the tree. I go all out for Christmas. But not this time.

The main cause of my lack of seasonal gaiety was busyness, which I soon supplemented with some brilliant sour-grapes reasoning: as far removed (in both time and distance) as I am from the wonderful Christmases of my childhood, and with no children of my own to pass cherished traditions on to, do I really need to keep doing Christmas? Here in Japan, Christmas (actually Christmas Eve) is an occasion for parents to  buy presents for their children, new couples to exchange expensive jewelry for sex, and everyone else to spend an hour chowing down on KFC and strawberry shortcake before continuing with their lives. Being a member of the "everyone else" demographic, shouldn't I just accept my lot and celebrate the Japanese way? What's wrong with fried chicken? I like fried chicken!

But shortly before the big day the Christmas pangs set in, and I had to escape my cheerless abode and go see some Christmas lights. The Japanese do Christmas in a strange way, a way that usually feels just wrong, but one thing they do excellently is Christmas lights. Few regular houses are lit up, but pretty much every retail store, shopping street and business district strings up light displays that put the ones back home to shame. It's hard to pass such a display and not feel Christmasy, so off I went to Shinjuku, the nearest of the big light shows in Tokyo.

The rain that night didn't do much to help create that special Christmasy feeling, but the reflections it caused were pretty and I was almost cheering up when, just as the shops were closing, a homeless man came and started setting up his digs for the night. The busy shoppers and happy couples passed him by without a second glance, creating a sad scene that I wasn't entirely comfortable documenting (taking pictures of a person being hardly any kinder than ignoring him). I wished that the homeless in Japan panhandled so at least I could toss him some yen and make myself feel better, but no. So I went home feeling sad and vaguely guilty and not Christmasy at all.

On another night I met my husband at the Imperial Hotel Tower, where he works. The tower and neighboring hotel were beautifully decorated, as were most of the shops in the neighborhood, and we made our way to the Marunouchi area. Lights were up everywhere, with one square full of these candles (their holders decorated by local schoolchildren) and a skating rink using some magical plastic substance instead of ice (I badly wanted to try it but it would have cost us something like $20 each--no thanks). Nearby, the trees along one brick-lined backstreet were brilliantly lit up for as far as the eye can see (actually just a kilometre, but it seemed to go on forever). My phone's camera really didn't capture how beautiful it was, and its slow recovery time prevented me from getting a good shot of the drunken trio below. They were loud and wobbly and apparently still having a great time, and as they got closer it became apparent that the man in the middle was unconscious, or possibly deceased, and was being supported by the two men on either side, who were doing little better. Shortly after they passed they hailed a cab and, I don't know how they did it, but they all plonked into the same door at the same time, landing in a pile with all of their feet sticking out. Perhaps not an especially memorable scene in some cities, but public drunkenness to this extent, at least in this posh neighborhood, is rather rare outside of this season. This being the season not for Christmas parties (not really done) but for raucous bonenkai (forget-the-year parties). 

Christmas itself was a regular workday, so we celebrated on the 23rd, which was a holiday (the Emperor's birthday). We usually get together with my husband's sister and her family and eat a home-cooked Christmas dinner, but since nobody had time for cooking this time we went to Roti, which had a nice Christmas buffet lunch. I was pleased to see there was yorkshire pudding, which I haven't eaten in decades (I think the fire alarm used to go off whenever my mom tried to make them, so she stopped trying when I was a kid). 

It was a dessert-intensive day, as after we had eaten our fill of Roti's fine offerings we headed back to my sister-in-law's place for chocolate cake. Marya, my niece, assumed the entire cake was for her, and as soon as it was on the table she dove into it with her spoon. Cute. Luckily she eventually agreed to share, but not before putting up a good fight. 

We exchanged presents, and then we came home to open our own presents. We had quite a few, mostly thanks to my Mom, who still sends Christmas parcels every year. There was some really good stuff, although Santa forgot to include a slinky, nail file and clementine in my stocking, and in my family no Christmas is complete without those three items. Maybe I'm being unrealistic though (do they still even sell slinkys?). In any case, I was finally feeling Christmasy. I guess Christmas really is all about the presents.

There was a mystery present from my husband, a long box that really had me stumped. It was with shock and awe when I opened it and found a knife inside. It wasn't really on my Christmas list, and although I've wanted a good knife for a while I didn't really consider myself ready (I'm clumsy and have poor knife skills, not a great combination). In fact, my New Year's Resolution for last year was to improve my knife skills to the point that I could peel an apple in one long strip, Japanese style. I still can't do that, but apparently Hideaki thinks I'm ready anyway, and got me this beautiful Japanese knife. 

It's an Echizen Uchihamono (a traditional style of knife-making, from the Echizen district in Fukui prefecture) santoku, hand-forged using traditional techniques. The materials and style are modern, with an easy-to-grip redwood handle, an edge sharpened on both sides, and a blade made from VG-10 steel, a super-strong high carbon steel that keeps its edge very well without becoming brittle or rusty. I know little about knives but this is definitely a good one, and unbelievably sharp (a bit scary, even). It's also beautiful: check out the damascus pattern below.

The blade is carved with Echizen Marukatsu Saku (made by Echizen Marukatsu), I think Echizen Marukatsu is the professional name of Asai Marukatsu, the fifth generation Echizen knife maker. The red envelope included with the knife contained an omamori (protective amulet) featuring a cow, the zodiac animal of 2009. And the zodiac animal of my birth year as well, which will hopefully make it extra lucky. Perhaps not quite lucky enough, as I've already cut myself (no need to go into gory details, but there was blood, pain and screaming and I have a new appreciation for fingernails, without which it would have been much worse). It's going to take a while to learn how to handle this thing properly, and I think this year's New Year's Resolution will have to be to survive the year with all digits intact. Wish me luck. 

More Christmas pictures here.

Happy New Year!

This is our nengajo (New Year's postcard) for 2009, the Year of the Ox. Or Cow, as it is more commonly rendered in Japan. Not that I know the difference between a cow and an ox. Is there a difference? Anyway, I wish you a very happy New Year!

Happy Halloween!

Hideaki and I spent the weekend with his sister's family, and we spent some quality time carving jack-o-lanterns. These two were mini pumpkins we used for practice, the one on the left is mine and my sister-in-law's is on the right.

Full-size pumpkins are easier to find in Tokyo than ever (these ones were 1500 yen each at Nissin), so we did two of those. That's mine up above.

This one is by my brother-in-law. He claimed it was his first time carving a pumpkin, but I'm not sure if I believe him.

And here I am dressed up for a Halloween party with some kids I teach. I think the bottle of rum adds a special touch (I left it at home, I promise), especially as it's made by Suntory, well known to be a favourite of pirates everywhere (motto: Shiver me timbers, this be fine grog!).

I'll be doing some more pumpkins tomorrow and then putting on a different, saucier pirate costume for what promises to be a frightful (and long deserved) night out. Hoping you have just as much fun!

More pysanky

A few weeks back I blogged about my first pysanky (Ukrainian Easter egg) attempt in years. It had turned out to be harder than I remembered and the first two eggs didn't come out as I'd wanted, but I assumed after the first few practice eggs I'd get the hang of it. Well, it seems that all my eggs this year were practice eggs, and I think it'll be a few more years until I'm happy with my pysanky.

One of the problems was the new-style kistka (stylus) I ordered had too fine a tip. It was too late to order a coarser one so I set about trying to make a traditional kistka myself, figuring thicker lines would be easier than very thin ones.

This is what I came up with (and this, first picture from top, is what an old-fashioned of kistka is supposed to look like). I whittled a hole in a dowel, inserted a small steel funnel, and fastened it with copper wire. I was going to buy a small piece of copper sheeting and roll it into a funnel shape but at Yuzawaya, a large craft supply store, I found a small leather punch that looked like it would do the job. It did, kind of: the opening at the bottom make a nice thick line, but it let so much wax through that it was a little hard to control. Still, not bad for a complete improvisation.

The coarse kistka allowed me to try a very simple traditional pysanky design, using just yellow, red and black dye. Pysanky uses a resist wax dying process similar to batik: drawing on a white egg with melted wax and soaking the egg in a dye bath will keep the covered sections of the egg white, and the process is repeated through several different colours of dye, with each new colour being covered up with more wax. When the design is complete, the wax is gently melted and wiped off the egg to reveal the colours that were trapped under the wax.

Realizing traditional pysanky might be a bit too difficult I tried some non-traditional designs, like the pink ume (Japanese apricot) above.

This very simple design of red ume on a black background was my favourite.

I also like this fish egg, and it was the most fun to do. On the front is a big scaly fish, and on the back:

The big fish is chasing (or is being chased by?) a school of tiny fish.

A close-up of the scales.

Almost all of the eggs, which had been boiled before I started, cracked in the oven while I was trying to melt off the wax, so they will be thrown away soon (before they start to stink). I'll be kind of sad to part with the ume and fish eggs, but it's a good thing the others were duds or I'd be pretty bummed.

Oh well, I have a whole year to practice. Hopefully by next Easter I will have gotten the hang of it!

Easter

This morning I grabbed my trusty glue gun and put together a quick present for my niece Marya: a basket of chicks.

I had originally planned to give her some pysanky (Ukrainian Easter eggs) but it's been so long since I've done them that all the eggs I made ended up being practice eggs, either cracked or not good enough to give away. Maybe I'll have better luck next year.

Hideaki and I met his sister and her family for brunch at Roti, a restaurant in Roppongi. I ordered eggs benedict, because someone had to-- it wouldn't be a proper brunch without them. The other grown-ups ordered steak and eggs, a burger and fries, and a spinach and feta omelet.

Marya had the fluffiest pancakes ever, of which she took two bites before moving on to her dad's fries and four bananas from the breakfast bar. We were all happy to help finish off her pancakes, not that our own food wasn't excellent: it turns out Roti does a very nice brunch, and since Tokyo is sadly lacking in brunch places we'll definitely be back.

They also do desserts well too, and this blackberry crumble was good enough to keep us away from the nearby Stone Cold Creamery which we'd originally planned to visit for dessert.

Then it was back to Marya's place where we spent a few hours decorating eggs. We were all concentrating on our eggs so hard that there are no pictures of us at work, just the finished eggs.

Then it was time to play. Which of course means watch Marya play, but unlike last time she deigned to let us help put together the train tracks, and Hideaki was even allowed to touch the train a few times. Progress is definitely being made, and in a few years we may actually get to push the train around for a lap or two. It's such a cool train track set that we joked about buying a separate one for the adults so we could play too, but I'm guessing Marya wouldn't stand for that.

Then we all went out for a dinner of soba, a nice way to soothe our tummies after such rich food for brunch. I had tsuke-toro soba, which were cold buckwheat noodles with a dip made of soy-based sauce, grated yam, raw egg and and nori seaweed.

We were then given a bag of Easter goodies and sent on our way, and when we got home we had some of them for dessert:

Hot crossed buns! I didn't think it was possible to find them, but apparently the bakery Andersen carried them for a few weeks before Easter, or at least they did at the Aoyama branch. Thank you sister-in-law!

Pysanky

It's been a long time since I've made pysanky-- nearly two decades, I think. I've been wanting to get back into for a few years but haven't been able to as the supplies aren't available in Japan and I never remember to pick some up on my visits home.

Pysanky are Ukrainian Easter eggs, and I learned how to do them at a class at the local museum/art gallery/archives where my mother worked. My mom had the coolest job in the world, at least in the eyes of a teenage girl with a fetish for old fashions and artifacts (corsets, crinolines and parasols would have figured prominently in my wardrobe if only I'd been able to find them). Through various exhibitions, events and classes I got to see and learn some very neat stuff, with my favourite probably being these wonderful eggs. I don't really remember the classes themselves, except for the time a Ukrainian Orthodox priest, in his long black robes, subtly tried to recruit me to his faith (he started off by pointing out our similar tastes in fashion).

But I do remember the eggs. The teacher's eggs were beautiful and perfect, and my first tries were so awful, but somehow I kept at it and was eventually able (at least according to my own memory, admittedly not the most reliable authority) to create some pretty good designs. I continued it for a few years but eventually my crafty tendencies turned elsewhere for gratification, and I pretty much forgot about pysanky.

Until last week, when I gave in and paid an outrageous shipping fee to have the materials sent over. I bought a couple of kystka (styluses), some beeswax and dyes, and with a candle, a hastily made egg stand a couple of practice eggs I was in business.

It's much harder than I remember. I don't seem to be able to make a straight line and have forgotten all the designs I used to do. That is to be expected, but making it harder is the fact that the materials are a bit different: I'm am having trouble getting used to the fancy new-style kistka, with its super-fine tip that tends to clog up, producing an uneven wax flow. The stylus I used to use was a tiny cone made of copper sheeting wrapped to a wooden dowel with wire, almost primitive in its simplicity, but it worked and it seems I'm used to it.

And aesthetically the coloured sheets of beeswax, actually meant for making those rolled beeswax candles, is not nearly as nice as the big chunk of pure golden beeswax I used to use (come to think of it the black colouring in this wax might be what's causing the uneven flow in the kistka). I also have no design book or even examples to look at, so these are not authentic psanky designs.

Still, despite the years of absence and these unfamiliar, new-fangled tools, I don't think these test eggs came out all that badly. And I've just now noticed that there is a wealth of information online, so if I can find some good designs for beginners I think I can back into this.

Do any of you do pysanky? I would love to hear any tips, especially from those of you in Japan or other places where materials are hard to come by. Anybody ever made their own kistka?

ひな祭り

I teach a Thursday evening lesson that always ends with "tea time", where my students and I move to the living room (this class is in a private home) and chat over tea and snacks. Although our host provides the refreshments, at least one student a week will bring something, usually a souvenir from a trip or something seasonal. Last time all the snacks were Hina matsuri related:

Clockwise from bottom: kome okoshi (puffed rice bars); kompeito candy; kaminari okoshi (puffed rice bars from Asakusa, Tokyo); hina sembei (sugar-coated rice cracker); candy-coated puffed rice.

Hina matsuri, known as the Doll Festival, is on March 3rd. It is celebrated by girls and their families by displaying special Hina ningyo (hina dolls) and eating special food. Since I don't have kids it's not something I celebrate at home, but luckily I know lots of people with daughters and get to see how they celebrate it.

Above and below are the displays in the home of the lady who hosts my Thursday evening class. She used to have a full set of dolls that she'd arrange on a huge tiered display, but now that her daughter is grown up she doesn't do the full shebang.

Today we went to my husband's sister's house to celebrate Hina matsuri with her family. This picture, painted by my mother-in-law, was on display:

We were treated to a lovely lunch:

Date-maki (rolled omelet); kamaboko (steamed fish paste) with a Hina matsuri design; shrimp sauteed with shishito peppers; tandoori chicken and steamed broccoli; amazake (a sweet fermented rice drink); ushio-jiru (clear soup) with clams, shrimp balls and mitsuba (trefoil).

There was also chirashi-zushi (scattered sushi) topped with shiitake, renkon (lotus root), carrot, ikura (salmon roe), smoked salmon, thin omelet, and mitsuba. All of the food (with the exception of the chicken) are special Hina matsuri dishes, and it was all delicious. The chirashi-zushi and ushio jiru were especially tasty and I would have eaten more if Marya, my niece, hadn't finished lunch early and demanded we play with her. And by "play" she meant "sit quiet and watch me play and don't you dare touch any of my toys". In a cute way, of course-- she's 3.

Dessert was mitarashi dango (rice cake balls with a sweet sauce); sakura-an dango (rice cake balls and white bean paste flavoured with cherry leaves); and sakura mochi (red bean paste-stuffed sticky rice wrapped in a preserved cherry leaf), all homemade. There was also a cake sent by my parents-in-law that I didn't get a picture of because I was busy "playing" with Marya. It was all lovely though and we were sent home with a nice sugar buzz and enough leftovers to have the same thing again for dinner.

I didn't cook at all and yet I got to eat all kinds of great stuff-- that's my kind of Sunday.

Jerks, nuts

In my previous post I mentioned spending yesterday morning shoveling the sidewalk in front of our apartment building. Well, yesterday's snow lasted all day and caused all sorts of chaos in the city, with injuries and delayed trains and canceled flights. Snow is relatively rare in this part of Japan, and Tokyoites don't seem to know how to deal with it.

As a small example, very few people bothered to shovel their walks, except for the odd shop and restaurant. Most people seemed to stay home, and the passersby that did venture out on the path in front of our apartment building pretty much ignored me as I was shoveling. I found that odd as back in Canada the snow brings out a certain camaraderie in people, and even people who normally don't greet strangers become a bit friendlier. But here people walked right on by without comment, some even looking annoyed by my presence.

Among the ignorers was an upstairs neighbor who didn't bother returning my "ohayo gozaimasu" as she scampered out of the building wearing this season's uniform: over sized sunglasses worn round the clock, a fitted parka with a fur-trimmed hood, ultra-short dress shorts, bare thighs, thigh-high stockings, knee high spike heel boots. It's a look that I despise, as logic dictates that if it's warm enough for shorts you don't need boots, and I prayed that she'd slip in the snow, but alas I'd already carved a path for her and she did just fine.

She was a sweetheart compared to the next guy who came by though. He was on a bike and passed by Hideaki first, who was busy shoveling. As the guy rode along the cleared section of the sidewalk he had to slow down to wait for my husband. And as he passed he gave my husband a look so dirty I thought I was seeing things-- surely nobody is that rude. But then as he passed me, perhaps to make sure I got the point, he gave me a dirty look too. And continued down the sidewalk, carefully sticking to the shoveled section.

I thought we'd reached our daily asshole limit, but I was wrong. We went out to do some errands and found someone's cell phone in the snow. It was still working but we thought it would be a bit of a hassle to track down the owner ourselves, and as luck would have it we were just across the street from Au shop. And it was an Au phone, so we brought it in, because of course they'd be happy to help out one of their customers. Nope. The girl at the counter refused to take the phone and said it was up to us to return it.  No biggie, we just took it to the nearest koban (mini police station) and they were happy to take care of it. It was just a shock, as an Au user myself, to learn how dismal Au's customer service.

From then on we only met nice people. We took a break at our favourite kissaten (coffee shop) and were treated to a free little cup of amazake (a hot sweet drink made of fermented rice). I think it was because it was snowing, as sometimes businesses offer little freebies during bad weather. And our coffees came with little hand-made paper cones filled with roasted soybeans, in celebration of Setsubun.

Under the old calender, Setsubun was considered the day before Spring, and was also part of the New Year celebrations. It is mainly celebrated by throwing soybeans, and sometimes other small objects, to bring good luck and purge evil. The beans are also eaten, one for each year of your age, to ensure a good year. This little cone of beans weren't quite enough to cover all my years, but it was a nice little treat that cheered us up after all the jerks we'd met.

Back at home we were ready for a little bean throwing ourselves. Mame maki, literally bean scattering, is traditionally done with roasted soy beans and that's what we've always used, but I've heard peanuts are acceptable too so this time we tried throwing peanuts in their shell. I figured the clean up would be much easier, and I was right-- and they can still be used.

Another first was eating miso peanuts (peanuts coated in miso) instead of the usual soy beans. They were tasty and it was much easier to eat 34 peanuts coated in crunchy, slightly sweet miso than 34 dry and tasteless soy beans. I think a family tradition has just been born.

For more on Setsubun, see this slightly more informative post from a few years ago.

Snowy Setsubun

Another snowy day! This is certainly turning out to be one of the wintery winters I've experienced in a while, and I'm actually enjoying it. I was so excited about the snow this morning that I asked the landlords (who live right in the apartment next door) if I could borrow their shovel. And then shoveled the sidewalk in front of the building, feeling all nostalgic about Canadian winters. Hideaki soon brought out a nice hot mug of coffee and took over, and when we'd cleared away all the snow we got to work on the snowman above. Doesn't look like much in the picture, but it was big and so heavy it took the both of us, using all our strength, to roll it into place. Like all Japanese snowmen, it only has two parts, which was a big relief-- we were too tired out to keep going.

So it wasn't even 11 am yet and we'd completely tired ourselves out. An early lunch was in order, so I set out to the conbini (felt great to walk on the sidewalk I'd just cleared) and bought two ehomaki. Because today is Setsubun, and eating these great big sushi rolls is one way to celebrate.

Ehomaki contain seven ingredients (representing sichifukujin, the seven lucky gods) and must be eaten uncut, with your hands. You also have to face the year's lucky direction (South Southeast), which we accomplished thanks to the handy compass on my cell phone-- Hideaki was rather disappointed that South Southeast faced away from the TV. And just to make things even harder, you must eat the ehomaki in complete silence.

The Setsubun celebrations aren't over yet, but we're putting them on hold and heading back out. The snow is still falling, and we've some playing to do!

Kagami biraki

One of the many preparations for New Years in Japan is the displaying of kagami mochi, which was traditionally two round slabs of mochi (rice cake) placed on an altar. As homes grew warmer in Japan, the mochi tended to get moldy instead of drying out, and at the same time fewer and fewer people bother to make their own mochi. So now lots of people buy pre-formed kagami mochi conveniently encased in plastic. Kagami mochi is meant to sit on a wooden altar, be topped with a daidai (a small, sour member of the citrus family) and be strewn with a variety of auspicious decorations. These days most people make do with a regular old mikan (mandarin) and the plastic kagami mochi usually includes as few decorations and a cardboard altar. Our kagami mochi, shown above, is fairly typical (except that it's mixed up with Christmas decorations, which are normally taken down as soon as Christmas is over-- often on Christmas Day itself).

The kagami mochi is displayed until January 11th, which is the day for kagami biraki: the cutting of the mochi.  It is then eaten, often in oshiruko (a sweet soup made with adzuki beans). My boss, Mrs. K, makes excellent oshiruko and this year gave me  a little to take home, so after cutting up our mochi we had the oshiruko along with the isobe yaki (grilled mochi wrapped in a sheet of nori seaweed) I'd been planning.

Nothing is easier to make than isobe yaki. Just grill the mochi in the toaster oven (watch it carefully though, as it's liable to suddenly puff up and it will burn if you don't smoosh it back down) until soft all the way through, dip it in soy sauce, and lay it on a piece of nori. Mochi happens to go very nicely with cheese, so as a special treat add a slice of cheese to the mochi when it's almost finished cooking; as soon as it melts you can proceed.

After New Year's

It was inevitable: my husband doesn't consider a visit home complete without at least one wagyu (Japanese beef) feast, so we took a bread from all the seafood and pigged out on teppanyaki (food cooked on a table-top griddle).

The star of the meal was a big pile of very well marbled and thinly sliced beef, but there was also tofu, nama-fu (wheat gluten cakes), cabbage, shiitake, shimeji mushrooms, eringi mushrooms, and hampen (fish paste cakes).

Once cooked it was dipped into a mixture of daikon oroshi (grated daikon) and ponzu (citrus soy sauce) and you better believe it tasted fantastic. The beef will almost certainly be the best we'll have all year, so it's kind of a bummer to know that it's all downhill from January 3rd. We definitely weren't complaining at the time though.

On the fourth day of the year I'd recovered enough to go out for a bit, so we all drove out to Kiyoshikoujin Seichouji, a temple near the Takarazuka theatre in Hyogo Prefecture, for hatsumoude (the first visit of the year to a shrine or temple). After offering our prayers for the new year we bought omikuji (fortunes), and I got stuck with kyou (bad luck). Good thing I don't believe in silly stuff like that, or I might be in for a bad year.

Or maybe it was true after all: shortly afterwards we stopped by a soba shop for lunch. My in-laws had been there before and said it was good, but after waiting over half an hour out in the cold we were treated to a mediocre meal. It seems the shop follows the despicable practice of subsituting inferior ingredients on busy days: although usually the shop only sells teuchi (handmade in-house) soba noodles, on this day the the regular menu items all came with noodles purchased elsewhere. Only the more expensive lunch special came with teuchi noodles, but there were no signs or notices on the wall warning customers of this. We only found out because one of us happened to order the special and it was completely different from everyone else's, which prompted us to ask the waitress. Who cheerfully explained the sneaky substitution.

That night's dinner more than made up for the crappy lunch, and was of a kind I really love: many little dishes of various treats served with endless bowls of rice. Delicious, sweet, fluffy rice, the kind I never seem capable of making at home. This was an especially fancy version of the many little dishes type of meal, with ikura (salmon roe) and mentaiko (spicy cod roe) included in the already impressive spread.

And the next day we flew back to Tokyo, and on the bus home from the airport enjoyed some pretty nice views-- it was already dark and Tokyo looks so much nicer at night. Sadly all my attempts at pictures came out fuzzy, but I kind of like the way the lights on the building above look all spiky.

Osechi

The first meal of the new year is osechi, traditional food that is eaten to ensure a good year. They are heavily seasoned in order to keep well, and are supposed to be eaten at every meal for the first three days in order to give the women of the house a break. My in-laws just eat it for breakfast and lunch, and don't bother with the elaborate layered boxes tightly packed with a myriad of colourful little morsels (these pictures will give you an idea of what typical osechi looks like). Osechi is widely hated in Japan, as the flavours are too sweet and heavy and eating it non stop for three days is tiresome. So my mother-in-law only serves the dishes that everyone likes, served in a lovely set of dishes atop a lazy suzan. And as she keeps most of the osechi in the refrigerator she uses a lighter hand with the seasonings.

This is kazunoko (herring roe), which symbolizes fertility and prosperity.

Kobumaki (kelp rolls) is eaten to bring happiness in the new year.

Datemaki (rolled omelet) resemble rolled scrolls so symbolize wisdom and academic success.

This is tainoko (sea bream roe) which I've never seen anywhere except my mother-in-law's table. It is eaten for the same reasons as kazunoko and is my favourite osechi.

Ozoni is a soup made with mochi (rice cake) and each region, or even each family has its own way to make it. My in-laws use a clear broth with vegetables and chicken, with the mochi cut in squares (most families in the Kansai area use round mochi).

We also eat kamaboko (steamed fish paste), gomame (tiny dried fish "caramelized" in sweet soy sauce), kuromame (simmered black beans), kuri kinton (chestnuts in sweet potato mash) and a few more kinds of sweet beans. I am not crazy about the sweeter forms of osechi and this year I was a very naughty girl and skipped them entirely (you are supposed to try a little of everything). But I'm pretty sure I ate enough overall to make up for it-- more than enough. Overindulgence in mochi, alcohol and other high-calorie treats causes almost everyone in Japan to begin the new year with a few kilograms of extra flesh, and I am no exception.

I think you can guess what my new year's resolution is.

Dinners on the first three nights involve a different kind of osechi: savoury foods with less sweetness and bolder flavours, all the better to match alcohol.

The first dinner is always yaki tai: grilled sea bream. It is bought already prepared (like most Japanese, my in-laws don't have an oven big enough to do the job) and is of a quality hard to find here in Tokyo, caught wild in the Seto Inland Sea. It is delicious and suitably festive, as it needs to be "carved" at the table by my father-in-law, just like roast turkeys and hams do in other parts of the world. Along with it are dishes of other wonderful treats like the uma-ni from the night before, tori no hakkakuni (chicken braised with star anise), and homemade kimchi. As I was sick and usually pretty tired by the evening I didn't take pictures this year, but here is a picture of last year's tai.

The next morning's ozoni is made not of chicken broth, but of broth made from the bones and leftover meat from the tai. The delicate, subtle flavour of the tai is balanced with a deep flavour from the charred skin and the resulting ozoni is a dish that I look forward to all year.

This time, perhaps because my appetite was a little less voracious than usual, there was plenty of broth leftover, and lots of tai meat from the night before. So it was used up at lunch as tai chazuke, a variation of ochazuke. Ochazuke is hot tea poured over rice, usually with with wasabi, umeboshi (pickled plum), flaked salmon or other flavourings. Tai chazuke replaces the tea with tai broth, creating a richer, more filling dish. To top it off, flakes of leftover tai meat and chopped mitsuba (trefoil) were added.

If I thought tai ozoni was the best New Year's dish, it was only because I'd never tried tai chazuke: I have a new favourite now. And I'm not going to wait all year to try it again, either. Despite Tokyo's inferior seafood, it shouldn't be too hard to create something similar at home. Can't wait.