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Samurai And Dolls

Dolls are creepy. That is fact. It took the genius of the Pixar crew – and millions of dollars – to create a movie featuring a doll that didn’t leave me with daymares.

It’s because they look real, but not. Like Joan Rivers. It’s a phenomenon known as 不気味の谷現象 (bukimi no tani gensho), or uncanny valley (Wikipedia is a much bigger time-suck than Facebook ever can be).

So this weekend, we did the only sensible thing and visited a temple for Doll Thanksgiving Day, an event billed as “Saying Farewell to Dolls with Gratitude.” Yep.

Parents bring their unwanted dolls to Meiji Shrine once a year, where Shinto priests will give them a proper farewell, and then incinerate them.

Here’s the general idea. The doll you own, through the years, is infused with a soul. You can’t just throw it away. You need to treat it with respect because, you know, it’s possessed.

Parents – emptying out their closets – gingerly handed over the dolls of their grown children. The priests were somber and respectful, cradling the dolls until they placed them along with the others, piled high at the foot of shrine, waiting to “return to the state of mere physical entities.” There was a haunting beauty to the whole thing.

Intense, right?

Except then you see something like this.

Gah! It’s clear now why they are incinerating these things. It’s not to give them a proper farewell. It’s so you can be assured that porcelain baby Satan won’t be clawing at your window on a howling windy night. Burn in hell, Raggedy Ann!

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I’d Pie for You.

Oh man, do I love pie.

I’ve got nothing against cake and will hardly ever turn down a piece of fluffy goodness if offered.  But pie!  Mmm.  The buttery flakey goodness of pie crust, combined with the slightly-sweet-but-mostly-tart fruit filling.  Mmm-mmm.  Don’t get me started on custard-filled pies.

I wasn’t always a pie person. I have to admit that in my early years I was a gooey chocolate brownie sundae kind of gal.  But then I met Dan, who one year requested a pie for his birthday instead of a cake (gasp!), and it was a done deal from there on out.  Once you get to know a pie, and learn to appreciate its simple rules and total free form willy-nilly insides, there is no turning back.  Someday, perhaps I’ll have my own pie shop.  I’ll call it the Pie Hole.

Pie is good any time of year, but fall is a pie-maker’s season.  Apple pie is a humble standard, but Thanksgiving brings out the bourbon-infused, pecan pumpkin crazy lady in me.  The late summer blueberry season gets me excited, and then fall hits and BAM! It’s really pie season.

And so, fall approaches in the fair metropolis of Tokyo, and I find myself without an oven, without a pick-your-own orchard, and without pie.  Can someone please make this and just tell me how good it is?  Or, maybe not tell me.  I don’t want to know.

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Sometimes Rainy Days are the Best

It’s raining in Tokyo today, and I couldn’t help but get a little reminiscey about the rainy day we had just about a year ago…

The Farm almost looked more amazing in the rain.  The dahlias were like little color bombs.

Look at my wonderful family sitting there in the rain — now that is true love.  They were determined to give me my outdoor wedding.

Thanks again to all my family and friends who made the trek to Hershey last Fall!  I’m thinking of you on this cold, rainy afternoon (remember that mud pit that was the bar?! And the water slick of a dance floor?!  And the Starlingtons!!).  Love to you all.

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Feeling Stabby – An Update

A few weeks ago I gushed about my new favorite form of needlework, sashiko.  Since then, my stabby little fingers have been busy: I finished up one project, started two more, and attended my first sashiko class.  Whew, what a busy Stab-tember!

Thanks for all the great suggestions on what to do with my finished shippo tsunagi 七宝つなぎ.  I think it’s destined to become part of a bigger whole, but I don’t have the heart to hide it in a closet until then.  And so, a quick stitch into a pillow case seemed like a good interim solution.

Careful there, clothes can make things difficult for a hen.

With one finished piece under my belt, I felt pretty good about going into my first sashiko class.  And it was great!  Conducted entirely in Japanese, it was just a few women sitting around a table, with the sensei directing us individually whenever we needed help.  I spent most of my class time listening to the other women in the room chatter, and surprisingly picked up more of their conversations than I thought I could.  I guess my limited vocabulary of mostly craft terms helped me, for once.

I came home with a new project in hand, a small table covering decorated with teacups.  The biggest difference about my new project is that it is not printed directly onto the fabric, but is instead traced on using white carbon paper.  The indigo fabric and thread were also much better quality, and when I got home I discovered my fingers were a wonderful shade of blue from the dyes.

The needle is also much smaller than the one I picked up at the craft store during my first week here, though much sharper and I think perhaps I prefer it.  I signed up for the October class, so  I’ll be sure to keep you up-to-stab!

A Tokyo local and interested in the sashiko class?  They’re held monthly at Blue & White, 2-9-2 Azabu juban, Minato-ku, tel. 03 3451 0537

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The Day Korea Broke Me

It’s pretty obvious that we love food.  We’ve been in Tokyo almost 4 months now, and I’m still not sick of Japanese food.  In fact, I crave it.  I will try (almost) anything once, and even if I don’t care for a particular dish or cuisine, I can usually still appreciate its existence.  And so, while on a recent trip to Korea I was excited to see what it had to offer my gullet.  When I asked a friend who recently visited Korea what she thought of the food, she replied, “A whole lot of spicy and raw.”  No problem, I thought.  I like both those things, so I was excited for a Korea Food Adventure.

Our first night in Jeju, we went after an island specialty — grilled black boar.  We were told that the pork came from the restaurant’s neighbor, which I believed, since we ate in a big tent over grills made from barrels.  Never mind that the old guy running the place was flirting with me, he’d never make a story like that up, right?

You see all the fat?  That’s right, we ate it.  They poured beer into that little cup and we used it as a dipping sauce.  And my friend was right, there was also a lot of spicy and raw, in the form of banchan (side dishes, including kimchi).

Our second night we tried another island specialty, hairtail fish stew (after a false start, which included a search for pheasant, a deserted hunting club, and a very scenic cab ride).  The giant clay pot of fish and potatoes was delicious (I think Dan licked that pot clean), though the rest of the spread looked suspiciously similar… spicy and raw.

Night #3 sent us to another outdoor restaurant (that’s island life, I guess) with more grilled meats and more, that’s right, spicy and raw.

Dan is only slightly bothered by the fact that I keep cutting off his head in these photos, in favor of the food:

Then it was off to Seoul, and on our first night I made the ultimate mistake — I picked a restaurant out of my guidebook and we took a taxi across town looking for it, only to discover it was no longer there.  Thankfully a very friendly salaryman took pity on us and led us to one of his favorite places instead.  I was looking forward to trying something different — not all Korean food is cooked at the table, right?  True, boribap was prepared in a location different from my table and was very tasty, though it was still very meaty, and very spi… well, you know.

On my last day in Seoul the weather was looking a little iffy (thanks, Typhoon Kompasu) and I’d had three straight days of museums and markets, so I decided to take a break from all that darn culture and went to N Seoul Tower, a bonafide tourist attraction that promises great views of the city. Well, it wasn’t exactly a clear day:

And that’s when I broke down and ordered the 4 course set lunch at an Italian restaurant in the tower.

It was either that or more spicy and raw, and I just couldn’t do it again.  So I did what I try never to do when on vacation — eat at tourist spots, eat cuisine that isn’t local, and eat gigantic expensive set meals by myself.

Damn you, spicy and raw.

…

So OK, we did have one awesome night of non-spicy and non-raw foods, a meal eaten entirely at street carts.  I feel like I wouldn’t do Seoul food (heh) justice if I didn’t show you these:

Clockwise, that’s a pronto pup with french fries fried directly into the batter, a doughnut cart, my doughnut of choice filled with black sesame and brown sugar, bindaetteok (mung bean pancake), and the night market where said pancake was consumed.

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Typhoons and Waterfalls

We’re back!  Dan and I had a great week in South Korea, despite Typhoon Kompasu and all the rain (we’re talking rain every day — I guess it’s goodbye rainy season and hello typhoon season).  Though I hardly thought about crafts while we were away, and am now overwhelmed by the hundreds of kanji flashcards waiting for review, I thought I’d share a few photos.

Our first stop was Jeju Island for a mini beach vacation.

The daily rain showers produced some pretty sweet waterfalls.  Eongtto only shows its face about 50 days a year — lucky us!

Jeongbang falls directly into the sea, and makes the whole area cool and misty.

While walking along Jungmun Beach near our hotel, we discovered yet another.  Just a small trickling stream the day before, I think this was my favorite.  No one else was around, and we could get really close.

Jeju Island was full of other wonderful things — delicious wild boar grilled table-side, fresh tangerine juice, beautiful ocean views, a Harry Potter movie on TV… and though it’s always a little sad to leave a vacation behind, I was pretty happy to discover that our return to Tokyo felt like home.

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I’m a Tokyo Housewife

A few people have commented that our new lives seem totally hunky dory, filled with nothing but fantastic foods and twinkling LEDs.  Well, those are just the parts that are fun to share.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining about my new state of non-employment.  But moving to a new place is hard, especially when you suddenly find yourself in the grocery store and completely illiterate.

While making my to-do list this morning, it occurred to me that perhaps some of you would be interested to hear how I spend my time.  So, with a bit of commentary, here is my list for today:

  • Laundry – check!

This entails a bike ride, with laundry bag strapped to my back, to a nearby laundromat.  I have no idea what cycle, water temperature, speed the machine is using, I just plop in my coins and push the big orange button.  Most of the clothes then hang dry in our bathroom, where there is a special wet t-shirt button on the exhaust fan.

  • Buy weird spray deodorant – check!

I snapped a photo so you can see what I’m working with.  It is really hard to find deodorant, I’ve been to 5 places already (I found Dan some imported Speed Stick and it cost me $8).  Finally, I discover these spray cans.  I have no idea what they mean, so I pick blue hoping it is the least fruity/flowery.  Hopefully it’s not blueberry.

Update – consider this a victory!  Though my armpits are tingling, is that bad?

  • Clean apartment – check!

I do this often, perhaps because our apartment is teeeeny and stuff accumulates.  Luckily the process takes me approximately 3 minutes.  This includes sweeping up the small animal hair I shed everyday.  Yeah, gross, but it’s hot and I’m a mammal, dammit.

  • Pick up groceries for dinner – check!

In an effort to save some yen, I make dinner at home most nights and we save eating-out for the weekends.  I have become an expert at wandering the aisles of the 6 groceries stores and 2 produce stands within biking distance of our neighborhood.  I usually avoid the “international” grocery store, though it does have a basket of dented produce in the back for cheap.  Yep, I’m that girl buying the ugly peppers.  The time of day I go out affects my grocery store choice, since some have better lunch bentos than others.  I also now avoid the one where the cranky cashier yelled at me for not understanding the word “chopsticks.” Her loss, because now I don’t know what she is going do with those ugly tomatoes.

  • Study Japanese – hmm, working on it…

On a normal day I spend my entire morning going back and forth between Rosetta Stone and my list of 2,000 kanji to memorize.  I can now read the sign for “fire extinguisher” and tell you that no, I do not speak Japanese.  I’m on kanji #250 and feel that the road ahead is very long.

I’ve been moving a bit slow this week due to a doozy of a summer cold. As I’ve mentioned to anyone that will listen to me whine (in English), snot and sweat should never mingle. I’ve had a few Japanese folks tell me that my cold is certainly due to the heat. I’m sort of curious to see if that has any scientific backing, but don’t have the energy to move from the couch to the desk to look it up.  And, because I desperately want them to be my friends, I will nod and smile at just about anything they say.

Today my to-do list also includes packing, since Dan and I are heading to South Korea tomorrow morning.  A work trip for him, I’m riding out the free stay at a hotel in downtown Seoul, and in a very uncharacteristic move am rather unprepared for the week in a new place (though, it was on the plane to Tokyo that I first realized I didn’t know any words in Japanese).  So forgive me if the blogosphere is a little quiet next week – I’ll be sure to file my report when I get back.

Happy weekend, everyone!

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Quarter Pounder With Noodles

What’s your million dollar idea? You know the one. The thing that occupies your mind when you’re scraping mangled receipts and Post-it note reminders out of a washing machine lint trap. (By the way, the inventors of Post-it notes worked at 3M until retirement…I find something awfully depressing about that).

Anyway, what I was getting at was this:

I can barely wrap my head around this. I can definitely wrap my stomach around it, but my head, not so much. That beauty is a Ramen Burger, and I call dibs. I’m bringing this back to the States, and I’m going to make a sensible, not-outlandish living as a Carnie, hopping from town to town, county fair to farm show, introducing America to something they didn’t know they loved.  I’ll make enough money to throw slices of fresh bread to the ducks, not that week-old stuff. That stuff is for the birds.

This past weekend our neighborhood was overtaken by food vendors, a lot of them, for the Azabu-Juban Noryo Festival. The streets filled up with Tokyo folk (Tokyoites? Tokyojin? Tolkeins?), creating a thick wall of people on every street, and picking up groceries meant redefining my personal comfort zone. But on the positive side, picking up groceries also meant stopping for grill pit fish, giant scallops swimming in a shell full of butter (or mayo, it’s hard to say, my eyeballs were salivating), potato chips on a stick (dibs again), and draft beer. Lovely stuff.

The Ramen burger can’t be that hard to make. It’s cooked ramen noodles, griddled into the shape of a bun. Then you throw in some roast pork, spring onion, bamboo shoots, cabbage, and a broth-inspired sauce (soy, miso, or tonkotsu – heavenly pork bone). Brilliant.

Oh, and that thing on the right is just some delicious potato topped with butter, mayo, salt, kimchi and corn. Whatever.

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Food Porn

In preparation for the Azabu Juban Noryo festival happening in our neighborhood this weekend, where I plan to eat my way from street-to-street for 3 straight days, I thought I’d clear some space on my camera and share a few food pics I’ve had in the vault.  I’m not sure our hurry-and-take-the-photo-so-I-can-shove-this-in-my-mouth photography really deserves the label “food porn,” but in any case, I thought these few photos were worth sharing.  Itadakimasu! *

A few weeks back, I was wandering the streets of Kappabashi (the kitchenware district, this site does a great job of describing it) and it was sooo hot and I was sooo hungry.  I stepped into the only restaurant I could find, where, alas, there was no English to be had, so I ordered the daily special, which was a gigantic plate of tempura.  Luck be a fried shrimp! (Two actually, along with mushrooms, okra, eggplant, and shiso.  This meal was also served with rice, soup, pickles and tea.  Oofdah.)

Dan and I discovered this place while wandering the streets of Shimokitazawa, a hip neighborhood of Tokyo that has been compared to Williamsburg in NYC.  May I present a ball of rice wrapped in bacon (!), sort of like a meat version of onigiri.  I may have put mayonnaise on mine.

Last weekend we found the ramen shop Gogyo, where the ramen is served black!  I had the kogashi shoyu, Dan went for the kogashi miso.  Both were “burnt” ramen, and I’m not sure how they got it that way, but the open kitchen had big flames and the ramen had that delicious almost-burnt, grilled-meat flavor.  We’re definitely going back for the black (alliteration is irresistible!).

Tokyo summers — the bad part is that it’s hot, the good part is that there is kakigori, a shaved-ice mound of sweet deliciousness much like the slushie I wrote about a few weeks ago. Kakigori is seasonal, so I plan to eat as much as I can in the next month.

I went for red bean and green tea, and Dan had fresh strawberry with a sweetened condensed milk glaze. These poor guys really didn’t stand a chance.

There you have it.  Don’t get me wrong, we eat a lot of weird and perhaps not-so-good things too (including the random mystery vegetables I try to cook at home), but those aren’t as fun to share.  Or are they?

* Your language lesson for the day: Itadakimasu いただきます roughly means “I humbly receive,” and is a traditional greeting before a meal.