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JAPAN, one bite at a time
written and photographed by MARLENE J LUCAS
Something that tastes like steamed shrimp dumpling is actually made of shiitake mushrooms.
Past narrow streets and bantam cars, grandmothers on bicycles careened dangerously within the white lines of the nonexistent sidewalks. Garbage and utility trucks belted out tinkly tunes as they made their rounds. Where was I? In a fashionable suburb of Sendai, the City of Trees, the capital of the Miyagi Prefecture in the Tohoku (northeastern) region of Japan, where my aunt has lived for almost half a century.
At Tokyo’s Narita International Airport, I hopped on the limousine bus to go downtown and then grabbed a cab to my hotel in the flamboyant Ginza area to meet my aunt. Inside, she presented me with a popular chain’s ebi (shrimp) burger, fearful I would be hungry after the measly airline food. I had hoped to dig into an o-bento (a box meal with side dishes) but I figured I still had many opportunities to try them. We were to leave by Shinkansen (bullet train) to Sendai the next morning so we retired early.
irasshaimase
Begin with breakfast
Early meant rising at 6.30am; the train left at 10.30am. My still-wobbly steps led me to the hotel’s breakfast room, where we were greeted by a glum French waiter spouting the Japanese welcome: Irasshaimase. There was the usual buffet continental breakfast, but I opted for a delicious Japanese chooshoku of miso shiru (miso soup with tofu and mushrooms), gohan (steamed rice) sprinkled with furikake (flaky flavourings with sesame seeds and seaweed), natto (fermented soybeans), renkon (crunchy lotus root slices), hijiki (black seaweed), and grilled sake (salted salmon slivers) on the side. I capped the meal with fresh pineapple slices and grapes.
I convinced my aunt to walk the 15 minutes to the station to get a feel of morning rush-hour Tokyo. The wide avenues bustled with people off to work, many of them fashionably attired. There were convenience stores, inexpensive restaurants and bars (izakaya), and vending machines at almost every street corner. Looking wistfully at the eye-catching window displays of every imaginable designer name, I vowed to return another time to see more of the sights, one of which is the Tsukiji fish market, the largest wholesale fish and seafood market in the world, with restaurants offering the
freshest seafood.
eki-ben
Boxes and trains
At the train station I was spoilt for choice when it came to selecting the eki-ben (throw-away box lunch). Every shop showcased plastic replicas of the boxed dishes, each one life-like and aesthetically arranged. I saw many Japanese travellers buying the boxed delights so I also had to have one. Our express Shinkansen trip lasted an hour and a half, hurtling through the Tokyo city outskirts and scenic countryside beyond. It was a drizzly, cloudy autumn day, and I gushed over the harvested fields with haystacks that looked like small yellow shaggy dogs arranged in precise rows, leafless kaki trees burdened with ripening fruit, and shiny black marble tombstones marking a crowded cemetery.
Reaching Sendai station, we disembarked and headed for the waiting taxis, their dignified drivers dapper in black suits. But before the exit, our eyes were again bombarded by the sight of food shops stocked with innumerable nibbles (okashi) and wagashi (traditional sweets). There were tai-yaki, a bream-shaped pancake filled with cream or azuki (red-bean) paste; daifuku, soft round green mochi (rice cakes) flavoured with yomogi (mugwort); and dango, rice dumplings with sweet or savoury toppings skewered on a bamboo stick. Sembee (salty rice crackers) came in all shapes and flavours.
I passed a stall where an over-friendly salesclerk proffered pale titbits on toothpicks to taste. Curious, I took one and chewed the slightly salty, rubbery morsel. It was sasakamaboko, or steamed fish paste cake shaped like bamboo leaves, used in oden style (casserole) cooking. My aunt bought a few of the prettily packaged products for that night’s dinner.
sendai
The tourist circle
During my too short, 12-day stay, I made sure I got my tourist points. A one-day ticket on the Loople Sendai bus took us to the must-see haunts. This bus travels in a circular route and allows visitors to get on and off to visit the sights located in central Sendai. We viewed the remains of Sendai castle founded in 1606 by Date Masamune, king of Oshu. His imposing statue astride a horse, complete with military uniform and impressive, wide-horned helmet, lorded it over a panoramic view of metropolitan Sendai. Inside the castle grounds, we spied a Buddhist monk with a broad woven hat begging for alms.
Further on was the Miyagiken Gokoku shrine, with an official stand selling kitschy souvenirs and good-luck charms. At a food stall, we sampled zundamochi – chewy rice balls topped with a sweet, bright green soybean (eda-mame) paste. While finishing off the last sticky morsel, we waved to a little kimonoed girl of three, who was being taken by her parents to the shrine for shichi-go-san, a celebration for children aged three, five and seven.
The next Loople bus took us to the Miyagi Museum of Art with its exquisite collection of Japanese paintings, sculpture and handicrafts dating from the Meiji period (1868–1912) to the present, as well as works by European masters. We promenaded down the lively Aoba-dori Avenue or Ichibancho with its Zelkova trees and jumping shopping malls, boutiques and offices. The exclusive Mitsukoshi department store has a giant basement food court from which imported food products and every imaginable Japanese treat can be bought. Here, in one small shop, I tried another Sendai delicacy – grilled, paper-thin slices of beef tongue (gyutan) served atop steamed rice, accompanied by a bowl of beef broth with shredded scallions and pickled Chinese cabbage (hokusai).
take away
Sashimi for everyone
All my senses were kept busy by the endless variety of foods. At a trip to a supermarket, I was overwhelmed by the cornucopiaof fresh fruit, vegetables and seafood available. Aside from the healthy stuff we all know (carrots and the like), there were green, leafy vegetables I couldn’t even identify. Fresh green soybeans still in their pods sat near clusters of strange-looking brown mushrooms (shimeji and shiitake) sprouting inside clear cellophane wrappers. Local fruits like green figs, apples and nashi (pear) almost as large as bowling balls were side by side with imported grapes, bananas, pineapple and grapefruit. I ate my fill of the local sweet, crunchy type of orange persimmons (kaki) that were just coming on the market.
Although the Japanese are not known as voracious carnivores, very few consider themselves vegetarians. There were endless displays of chicken parts and giblets, high-quality, well-marbled pork and beef cuts. Move over to the seafood section and you find the whole gamut of the sea’s bounty: glistening mackerel, sleek sardines, herring and flounder packed on ice; squid, cuttlefish, octopus and sea urchins ready to cook; crustaceans and shellfish; emerald-green seaweed both au naturel and dried; different kinds of caviar.
Mouth-watering takeaway meals of sushi and sashimi beckoned, decorated with a tiny yellow chrysanthemums and green shiso leaves on a bed of finely shredded white radish. There were unagi no kabayaki (grilled eel) on bamboo skewers, yakitori (grilled
chicken on sticks), agedashi tofu (deep-fried bean curd cubes in a light sauce), and yakisoba (fried Chinese-style noodles). And the list could still go on and on.
tatami
A shrine to food
My Japanese uncle wanted to introduce me to Shojinryori – a Buddhist-style vegetarian meal originally for monks. The dishes are cooked without meat, fish, garlic or onion. Accordingly we rode by train to Matsushima, a picturesque town 25km from Sendai that is famous for its oysters (kaki) and over 260 pine-topped islands ringing a pretty bay. From the station, it was a pleasant ten-minute walk to the no-flash, no-frills kappo (traditional restaurant), which, to the uninformed, looked more like a shrine.
We stepped inside a neat little foyer where we took off our shoes. Dressed in a kimono, a well-groomed matron in her 60s greeted us and led us to a tatami room with a low table. We sat with our legs folded under us. As the honoured guest, I had my back against a wall decorated with a scroll of calligraphy denoting a kind of poem. I gazed out through the glass doors into a pretty garden, whereas my hosts pondered on the meaning of the poem on the scroll.
The first course was laid on a squat table and looked like a stunning work of art. Our geisha explained that Shojinryori food was meant to evoke scenes from nature – in this case, scenes from late summer and early autumn. A red lacquered nest of boxes (jubako) held a halved persimmon, sitting atop a leaf of red, yellow and brown hues. The bottom half was scooped out and filled with a tiny mound of blanched spinach capped with a dollop of white sauce and a spot of red. The top half leant artistically against it.
“Itadakimasu,” a polite phrase meaning ‘I receive this delicious food’, was said as we commenced the meal. I nibbled on the spinach and noted its fine texture and subtle taste. The persimmon was half ripe, its flesh slightly sweet and not tart. There were other porcelain saucers filled with a variety of side dishes (okazu) – minuscule portions of more blanched vegetables, kombu (seaweed) and pickles (tsukemono).
With much bowing and smiling, the geisha cleared the table after each course. Next came bowls of a single tofu dumpling and snow peas in a delicate sauce, a sticky rice ball with a salty bean filling, an eye-catching platter of lightly fried lotus root slivers, thin shavings of Japanese mountain yam (yamaimo), unbelievably crunchy (but bland) pine needles, a golden stalk of puffed rice decorated with a twist of lime, and a woven basket of salt to sprinkle on the morsels. Piping hot miso soup and shimeji mushrooms, boiled new fluffy white rice with chestnut and mixed pickles capped the meal, with a steaming cup of bancha tea to wash everything down. Dessert was not served, as it is not a traditional ending to a Japanese meal.
A Shojinryori meal is simple, but a lot of time and deliberation goes into creating that simplicity. Each dish shows remarkable textural variety and ingenuity, because something that tastes like steamed shrimp dumpling is actually made of shiitake mushrooms, while a ‘chicken with sesame seeds’ lookalike might be made from tofu. The mild sauces help bring out each ingredient’s subtle flavours. The portions are tiny but leave you feeling full and satisfied. “Gochi-sama” (giving thanks after the meal), I said to my aunt and uncle.
eight courses
Dining Chinese style
By contrast, the Chinese eight-course dinner we had back in a Sendai hotel restaurant was heavier and more opulent. When the Japanese eat out to celebrate, they go Chinese. I avoided weighing myself the next day.
To take my mind off food, I made jaunts to a hyaku en shoppu (100 yen shop) selling kokeshi wooden dolls and quaint cell phone trinkets. I bought a Japanese teapot (kyuusu), some yukata (informal summer kimonos), loads of rice cakes, and sweet yokan – the brick-shaped firm jelly, made of azuki beans, with whole chestnuts embedded within.I left Sendai with lovely memories of forever-smiling, bowing people, clean sidewalks and stations, the confusing maze of subway trains and rushing hordes, a matron graceful in her kimono and geta (wooden clogs), and, not least, the wonderful cuisine. It was a truly gastronomical experience.
SIGHTSEEING AND SHOPPING
Visitors to Japan should take advantage of the shopping, the monuments and museums as well as the delectable cooking |
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