Valentines Day Weekend

I’ve given you a few snapshots of Valentines Day weekend, but I thought I’d talk a bit more about the weekend on a whole. You may be thinking to yourself about now, “what, they don’t do anything during the week anymore? Here it’s a week later and she’s still talking about last sunday? this sucks! I want my money back!”

Yes, dear reader, you’re right. I’m lazy. Some days I don’t even leave the house. But I cook dinner almost every night! You want recipes? That’s about all I can give you. Recipes and pity parties.

To close up the weekend before I start the next one, here’s a quick recap:

Ramen Adventures! Jangara Ramen, recommended by two of the ramen blogs that we follow. Located right off the main drag in Akihabara (the electronics district)

The line is always this long!

Inside (they say not to take photos, so i had to sneak a few covert-like with my iPhone. I’m sure they didnt notice because I blend in really well. … and my iPhone is lime-green)

Then we went to the Edo history museum, where I sat in things:

…and jon stood in front of things (look, sumo!)

. next morning . up before dawn to take in the sights at the tsukiji fish market. Boy, I wish I had some coffee.

We were careful not to get in the way or get hit by one of the speeding fish cars. The market before it wakes up…

…as the vendors are still preparing for their days.

Large semi trucks unload fish to be sold starting at 3am. Most of them come in Styrofoam boxes that are turned into the makings of a mountain.

I love the view here of the city in the background. It looks so… dismal. If you think about it, a lot of fishies gave their lives for this picture. It is dismal.

We ended our day with a sushi breakfast (at 7am!). I was feeling kind of sick, but decided that stomachache or not, I was eating raw tuna that morning!! (it was worth it!)

Ode to a Large Tuna

4:30 and the alarm goes off. I swear I just fell asleep, and what is it again that I’m waking up so early for?

Ah yes. The tuna action at the Tsukiji Market in Tokyo, where one fish can sell for as much as $20,000, and travelers brave their way through the maze of highspeed fish mobiles to stand in a warehouse and watch.

For a while, the tuna auction was closed to tourists – a response to some of our more obnoxious brethren prodding and poking where they didn’t belong. These days, they rope off a place for us to stand…

…and quietly insist that we mind our manners.

From 5 to 5:30am, the bluefin tunas are tagged and sorted for auction.

The tips of their tails are cut off, so that the buyers can inspect what they’re getting and make appropriate auction bids

Now’s a good time for some Pablo Neruda, don’t you think? Jon was happy that, despite my best intentions, I didn’t remember to bring the poem with us to read on the auction floor.

Among the market greens,
a bullet
from the ocean
depths,
a swimming
projectile,
I saw you,
dead.

The poem goes on, but I’ll spare you. It’s a fantastic poem though. Let a love-poet write about a dead fish and this is what you get.

As I was saying. By this point, the warehouse is filled with both tuna and tourists. The tuna is being inspected by flashlight and poked with ice picks. This article explains how fat freezes much slower than meat, so if the fish gives a little when you poke it, it is worth much more than one that’s frozen solid. It’s hard to believe that these lumps were living, breathing things just a few hours ago.

While the wholesalers are at work, the tourists are madly taking pictures and wishing they had brushed their hair before leaving the house. Try not to judge – it’s only 5:15am at this point!

A bell rings and the auctioneer stands up on his perch. “How much for this one?”

If you’re like me, you didn’t get to see the auction while it was happening because you’re short and you happened to be standing behind a concrete pole. Luckily, your husband is taller than everyone in the country, so you could watch it on video later.

More bells ring. The tunas unceremoniously await their next fate on the backs of the speedy fish mobiles.

From the Sea

This post is entirely dedicated to photos of the wacky things that live under the sea. A more thoughtful analysis of our trip to Tsukiji Market to come after some sleep.

Fair Warning: this post is probably not for the squeamish.

Valentines in Ginza (Ukai-tei)

< fair warning: this is a food-lovin’ post, chock-full of pictures. EOM >

Last year, jon and I bought the Michelin Guide to Tokyo and vowed to visit our first Michelin starred restaurant while we were out here.  For whatever reason, it never ended up happening in ‘09, but we did manage a last-minute reservation last night at Ukai-tei in Ginza.

Valentines teppanyaki. Oh, oh. We decided on one of the seasonal set menus, which started us with an amuse bouche: an airy cream-based soup set over custard and topped with uni. A few nights before, jon and I had pledged our allegiance with uni (in brief: a type of sushi), and so this was a welcome (and buttery) treat. Not something that I would have ordered with relish last week.

The appetizer course: king crab w/ sauteed leeks for me…

…marinated filefish sashimi for jon. Filefish are funny-lookin buggards, with their odd shape and clumsy patterning. It’s not very common as sushi in America, and they’re most often found dried, turned into jerky, and snacked upon in Korea. Those crazy Koreans.

After the appetizer course we found ourselves with parsnip soup – so intensely parsnippy, and so incredibly tasty, it made wonder why I always overlook parsnips at the supermarket. They’re just so… good. A great uncommon-yet-familiar flavour. I promise to roast more of them in the future.

The dinner we ordered was the abalone menu. We hadn’t ever had abalone before (that I can remember), so I wasn’t positive what to expect in either preparation or flavour. It was so neat! They bring out two abalone-on-the-half-shell, that are then put on a hot flat top grill and covered gently with two banana leaves. (Really, the chef nestled these leaves around them.) Then they MOUND on the rock salt (it looks like a miniature ski hill at this point), and pour white wine all over it before covering to steam.

In a separate pan, they bundle up some crinkly savoy cabbage and put it in a pan with a-little-bit of-this and a-little-bit-of-that, until what emerges is exactly like a classically prepared béarnaise sauce. Lovely! The abalone were creamy, and hearty enough to stand up to the rich sauce, and my acidic white French wine was a perfect compliment.

After fish comes the meat course, and they brought out the sirloin to present to us before asking how we like it cooked. It’s so lovely there, sitting in front of us. Naked and full of potential.

When you say “medium rare”, you get it a perfect medium rare. And the marbling melts in your mouth. And you wonder why, on earth, you have ever eaten anything else. And just then, as to break my reverie, the woman across from me comments on how this is just the best meal she’s ever eaten.

It’s very traditional in Japan to eat your rice after the meat / fish course. Our Japanese friends always look at us oddly when we ask the waitress for a bowl of rice during dinner. For our parts, Jon and I had one of each, noodles and rice.

I started with the Japanese Noodles, which reminded me of that quiet dinner in Kyoto – cool, intensely flavoured broth holding gently suspending thin, delicate noodles. Served with a side of grated daikon (radish), just in case you needed to clean your palate. Jon opted for the garlic rice, which was equally tasty.

Clearly, by this point in the night I had lost my ability to take photos that were in focus.

The table was decorated sparsely with flowers, but it was perfect because you didn’t really want anything more complicated than a single orchid. Because the single orchid was, in itself, a metaphor for the Japanese cuisine: Striking in its simplicity, but perfectly formed and prepared with a great deal of deliberateness.

…and just as jon and I were beginning to dream of a chocolate ending to our affair, the waiter came to tell us that our “dessert table was ready”. I sat in reverie and jon remarked about how “money can’t buy love”. We both knowingly laughed – I love him so much for his shared interest in this kind of stuff, not because he can / we can afford to take us out to schmancy meals.

Dessert started us with an orange geleé gratineé – this culture loves its geletain products. Really, they make everything in to jello-like cubes.

Jon had a fudge-like torte that I wasn’t speedy enough to get a photo of, and I ended with espresso and a caramel pudding that in another world would have been called either flan or créme caramel.

We found it hard to not linger on the service, quality of food, and overall fantastic-ness of the evening, but knew it was time to go. We have early morning plans with a tuna-man.

Dinner in Shibuya

The plan for the evening: Head over to Shibuya to meet up with some of Emi’s friends for dinner.

The restaurant that Emi picked was on the 15th floor of a building in central Shibuya. The exterior walls of the elevator were clear, so we had a fantastic view on the way! On the walk over, as we passed through the busiest intersection in the world, I thought aloud: We live here. Life is fantastic.

While it looked normal enough from the outside, once you poked in through the curtains you enter into a *giant* restaurant. I don’t think I’ve ever been in a restaurant so big in Japan. The window seats were reserved for large groups, with tables set into various sized cubby holes. The interior of the restaurant had about 20 tables – and they were jam-packed when we arrived. The vibe seemed to be both young and international.

Emi’s friends thought we should alternate and mix up a bit, so we weren’t just talking to the people that we came with. I think our side of the table was a little hesitant at first, but I’m glad we ended up doing it. Emi’s friends are so nice! I remember saying the same thing about Sayo’s friends last year – I wonder if we just run into the best that a country has to offer, or if all Japanese people really are this fantastic.

We left ordering dinner up to the people who knew the food best, so we were plesantly surprised every time the waitress brought a few thigns out. Overall, the food was really light – lots of things set on different types of lettuces. Some one ordered orange chicken (the kind you get at chinese restaurants), and I was utterly dismayed to find out the Japanese word for it is “orangey chickenu”. Seriously?

But mostly, we drank. A lot. For two hours, the waiters plied us with monster-sized pitchers of Kirin:

We stopped for a picture on the way out. Too bad you can’t see the backdrop of the city that we were standing in front of.

At the end of the night, we say goodbye to our friends and hurry to grab one of the last trains home. The train is standing room only, and I’m happy to have a finagled a corner spot where I can lean against the walls.